Charlotte smiled stiffly. “We’re not unhappy.”
“Oh? You’ve been complaining nonstop for the past ten minutes.”
Charlotte felt put out by the woman’s statement. “Well, I’m sorry if we’ve disturbed you …”
“You haven’t disturbed me, not really. But if it matters to you and your friend so much to see the sea, I want you to have our rooms. Actually, they are suites—deluxe suites—and they each have a nice living room, a bathroom with a huge Jacuzzi, and adjoining balconies. The view is amazing, I can assure you.”
“Then it really wouldn’t be fair,” Lucie spoke up. She noticed the boy gazing at her with an intensity that she found a little disconcerting. Unlike his dramatically outfitted mother, he was dressed in khaki denim shorts, a black tank top, and Birkenstocks. But the simple nature of his outfit did nothing to camouflage the fact that he was strikingly, almost unbearably handsome. Their eyes caught for a moment, and Lucie felt a strange, almost electrical charge. She quickly averted her eyes back to his mother, who seemed relentless in her campaign.
“Fair or not doesn’t matter to me. We have been to Capri before, and we come from Hong Kong, where our flat overlooks the harbor. And we have a house in Sydney, in Watsons Bay, where we can see whales do backflips, and another beachfront house in Hawaii, in Lanikai. We get to see the ocean till we’re sick of it, so this is nothing to us.”
Charlotte let out a little gasp. The woman turned her attention to Lucie, and she could feel her giving her the once-over. “Are you here for Isabel Chiu’s wedding?”
“We are,” Lucie answered.
“So are we! How do you know Isabel?”
“She’s a friend from childhood.”
“Oh, you are from Taipei?” The woman looked surprised.
“No, I’m from New York. I knew Isabel when she lived in New York.”
“Ah, New York, I see. I love New York! Isabel’s mother and I are cousins. I’m Rosemary Zao [Maryknoll Convent School / University of Sydney / Central Saint Martins], and this is my son George [Diocesan Boys’ School / Geelong Grammar / UC Berkeley, Class of ’15]. We should all be friends, and you really should take our rooms!”
“May I ask what the rate is for your deluxe suite?” Charlotte asked, not wanting to be stuck with an exorbitant bill at the end of their stay.
Rosemary waved her hand dismissively. “Hiyah, don’t worry about the money. It’s my treat!”
“No, no, that would be much too generous of you,” Charlotte said.
While the two older ladies continued their pantomime of protestations, Lucie noticed George beginning to fold and twist the paper napkin on his table with a Zen-like calmness. Within a few moments, he had fashioned the napkin into a long-stemmed rose. He held the origami rose up and tilted it toward Lucie, as if offering it to her, before placing the flower on the brim of his mother’s hat while she was turned around talking to Charlotte.
Weirdo, Lucie thought. Confused by his gesture, she pretended like she hadn’t seen him.
Meanwhile, Rosemary’s voice had gone up several decibels. “No, no, it’s your first time in Capri, you should have a view of the sea. You must see the sunrise, and the sunset, and oh—the seagulls! They are so cute; they come flying right up to my balcony and try to steal my toast! Come on, I know you’ll love it. You must take our rooms!” Lucie saw that everyone was staring openly at them now.
“We simply cannot impose,” Charlotte said firmly.
Rosemary gave them an exasperated look before turning to her son. “Why won’t they take our rooms? George, nei tung keoi dei gong la. Keoi dei wui teng nei ge.”fn2
Up till this point, George had sat as silently as the Sphinx, but now he looked straight at Charlotte and Lucie and spoke up in a soft drawl that was vaguely reminiscent of an Australian surfer. “There’s nothing to say. Of course you must take our rooms. We insist.”
“Well, let me insist that we won’t!” Charlotte scoffed.
George turned to his mother as if he hadn’t even heard Charlotte. “Let’s just speak to the manager and he’ll handle it.”
“Yes, yes! Ettore can get housekeeping to pack up all our bags and move everything!” Rosemary said excitedly.
This was too much for Charlotte. She stood up from the table and said, “You’re very kind, but we really cannot trouble you like this. Have a nice day. Lucie, come.”
CHAPTER THREE
Poolside at the Bertolucci
Capri, Italy
Charlotte and Lucie left the dining room and found a table under the loggia by the pool. As they sat down, Lucie looked at her cousin and started to giggle. She couldn’t help it—she always seemed to giggle whenever she felt uncomfortable.
Charlotte shook her head in annoyance. “Jesus! What a crazy lady! What was her deal? Was she trying to impress us with her parade of oceanfront properties? Does she think we are some sort of charity cases that are going to bow down in gratitude just to spend a night in her ‘deluxe suite’?”
“I think she was just doing the ‘Chinese auntie’ thing.”
“Well, she’s not your auntie, and she’s certainly not mine.”
“That’s not what I meant. She’s just being a bit of a showoff but trying to be generous at the same time. I’ve met a bunch of Mom’s relatives who are just like that. You should see these ladies fighting over the bill at lunch. It’s like watching an opera.”
“What do you mean? They don’t want to pay their fair share?”
“No, Charlotte, they’re all fighting to pick up the whole check! They screech at each other, play tug-of-war over the bill, or try to bribe the waiter not to let anyone else pay. Apparently it’s considered good manners to make a big show of it,” Lucie tried to explain.
“I’ll never understand that sort of behavior. To me, this woman crossed a line. And what do you make of that son of hers?”
“I’m not sure. He barely spoke,” Lucie said with restraint. The truth was she had an instant aversion to really attractive guys, ever since her eighth grade boyfriend, Ryan Frick—who looked like a young Jared Leto—two-timed her with Maggie Hoover, a Spence girl who was known to everyone in their generation because she could put her entire fist in her mouth.
“Well, I thought he seemed like an arrogant snot! Who is he to insist that we take their rooms? My God, this hotel is turning out to be a nightmare. First they give us the wrong rooms, and then we have to deal with these sort of people. I should have listened to Giles, my travel editor, and just shelled out the money for the Punta Tragara. This would never have happened there. Penny wise, pound foolish, as they say. Shall I call them up and see if they have any ocean-view rooms available? I don’t care what we have to pay anymore. I’ll call up Diane at the family office and sell some bonds if I have to.”
Just as Lucie was about to answer, she saw someone familiar in the distance. “Look at that man coming down those steps. Isn’t that Auden Beebe?”
Charlotte peered at the tall man in his forties with a perfectly groomed beard and shoulder-length blond hair walking through the archway of the lobby out onto the terrace. “It sure is! Auden! Auden!”