Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
D arcy was in the back seat of a fancy Italian-made car. It was air-conditioned to perfection and smelled of Chanel No. 5. Beside her was the iconic Carlotta Gionnocaro. She wore Gucci sunglasses and a slim-cut black dress, and her skin glowed as though she were an exotic fish in an aquarium. She was on the phone with someone, speaking rapid Italian. Darcy shivered beside her. What is happening? Why am I here? But she knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She had to ride the wave.
“Sorry about that,” Carlotta said as she got off the phone. “There’s a problem with the apartment in Roma. It’s going through a complete refurbishment. It’s been a long time coming, let me tell you. But the drapes are a disaster. Wrong material. Wrong color. You name it, something’s wrong with it. I’m disgusted with the designer. It’s difficult to do everything from abroad.”
Darcy’s throat was tight. A driver who hadn’t said a word took them out of Oak Bluffs and headed west. She squeezed her knees and said, “Do you usually live in Rome when you’re not here?” Immediately, she cursed herself for not calling it Roma like Carlotta did.
“I like to go wherever I please,” Carlotta offered. “Sometimes that’s Martha’s Vineyard. Oftentimes, it’s Geneva. But this year, it’s Roma. My American boyfriend wants to spend the last half of the year in a warm pasta embrace. I can’t blame him.” She rolled her eyes back and smiled.
It’s incredible. You can’t see her botched job at all anymore. You wrung it out completely.
Darcy thought Carlotta might be the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen up close. Or maybe she was intoxicated by her beauty and her wealth and her compliments. It was overwhelming. Darcy hadn’t even asked where they were going. Maybe Carlotta was kidnapping her.
The car pulled up outside a private harbor where a massive yacht floated majestically, its nose pointed toward the wide-open ocean. Carlotta’s heels tapped down the dock in front of Darcy, and Darcy wondered how she could always avoid the holes with her very sharp heels. Darcy had seen multiple rich women get stuck in docks over the years. It had been a game for her and Rachelle— spot the rich woman who can’t handle her shoes.
But it seemed unlikely there was anything Carlotta couldn’t handle.
A man in a white uniform greeted Carlotta and Darcy at the entrance of the yacht. “Good afternoon, senora, ” he said. He took her bag and looked at Darcy. “May I take the senorita’s folder?”
Darcy realized she still gripped her folder of app ideas as though frightened someone would attempt to rip it out of her hands. She handed it over a bit too forcefully and bit her tongue to keep from telling him to take care of it.
In Italian, Carlotta instructed the man on what to do and then led Darcy onto the second-level deck, where they sat at a beautiful table with flowers. Another assistant appeared with a chilled bottle of rosé, a basket of bread, green olives, and slices of very stinky Italian cheeses. Is this how she lives all the time? Darcy thought. And then she realized that Carlotta hardly paid attention to it. It was clear this was part of her routine. She appreciated beauty, flavor, luxury, and time.
“Shall we make a toast to your exquisite pitch today?” Carlotta raised her glass.
Darcy wanted to burst with surprise laughter. How did you get here?
She raised her glass. “Thank you for this. For all of this.”
Carlotta’s eyes shimmered. “It’s only the beginning, darling. Truly. I feel it in my bones, and I’m never wrong.”
“That must be nice. I’m wrong all the time,” Darcy said.
It was a joke, and she smiled wider and tried to laugh, but Carlotta frowned.
“It’s important not to make jokes at your own expense,” Carlotta said. “You must be your own advocate. The world is apt to crush you at every turn.”
Darcy felt her smile melt off her face. There was truth to what Carlotta said.
“I can see you’re very serious about this next step of your career,” Carlotta said.
“I stayed up all week working on that pitch.”
“You’re much like your sister. You burn with your desires,” Carlotta said. “I was the same at your age. Remarkably spirited and never needed sleep. I only seemed to grow more beautiful when I went without it. But I think that’s the secret to living, don’t you? Living for something. For something that feeds your soul.”
Darcy had never been around someone who spoke like this. She didn’t know what to make of it. Had Carlotta spoken with less conviction, Darcy would have assumed she was teasing her.
Carlotta layered a slice of bread with cheese and olives and took a decadent bite. Darcy did the same and felt the eruption of flavor all the way through her body. She struggled to hide how marvelous she thought it was.
Carlotta sensed this, too. “Don’t be frightened to show how much pleasure you derive from life,” she said as she licked her fingers of oil. “It’s the only real currency we have. It makes all the work we do to fight for it worth it.” She sighed. “Just last week, I turned forty-nine years old.”
Darcy’s eyes widened.
“I know. You wouldn’t have guessed that. Most people say thirty-eight or thirty-nine,” Carlotta said. “The people who work for me declare me thirty-one or thirty-two, but I know they do that for job security. And it’s working for them!” She giggled. “You already know the lengths I go to to achieve beauty. You saw what that woman did to my face. And you’ve seen the fruits of your labor here.” Carlotta raised her chin to show off her glowing visage. “Beauty helps me with every phase of my life. It makes this bread taste more divine. It makes me appreciate wine and sunshine and men and family and travel far more. It makes me more intelligent. It makes me hold my head high. And ultimately, my beauty will help you secure funding for that app of yours. WonderBee.”
Darcy’s heart swelled at the mention of the name of her app. She’d spent nights at the kitchen table, brainstorming an idea. Now that Carlotta said it aloud, it was fully real.
“Tell me more about yourself, Darcy,” Carlotta said. “I like to know a bit more about the people I work closely with. It’s important that our visions align.”
Darcy filled her mouth with wine. Don’t be boring. Don’t you dare be boring in front of this gorgeous, worldly woman. She could turn her back on you in a second.
But what was interesting about Darcy? She was a pretty typical twenty-five-year-old woman who was still uncomfortable calling herself a “woman” rather than a girl. Her younger sister was far more successful, beautiful, and free. Darcy had a boyfriend she was falling madly in love with. She had an idea for an app. Her grandmother was one of her favorite people in the world.
None of this was worthy of Carlotta.
“I don’t know where to start,” Darcy said.
Carlotta’s laughter was breezy. “You’re so mysterious. Maybe that works to your benefit. Leave people wanting more. Leave people wondering just what you’re up to.”
Darcy’s heart thumped. She was perhaps the least mysterious woman in the world, especially when compared to Carlotta. She had to force herself from glancing down at the secondhand black dress she’d worn to the pitch, which now seemed so frumpy when surrounded by Carlotta’s glamour.
“I’m a self-made woman,” Carlotta was saying now. “It all began when I was twenty-two or twenty-three. I made my first million at twenty-six but lost it all by the time I was twenty-eight. I’m sure you can guess how.”
Darcy furrowed her brow. It was difficult to imagine Carlotta losing anything. “What happened?”
Carlotta betrayed a softer moment of fear or sorrow. “I married a man when I was twenty-seven. He swept me off my feet and changed everything for a little while. I let him, Darcy. I let him into my world, and I let him take everything. I stopped working. I stopped being hungry for the next step of my career. And when I realized he’d betrayed me, it was too late. I had nothing all over again. But I was angry. Violently so. I divorced him and set my sights on my own future and nobody else’s. I didn’t date for years after that. Now, I find myself with this American man who’s far more interested in his career than me. That suits me just fine. We see each other when we can, but we’ll never marry.”
Darcy swallowed the lump in her throat. There was such a staggering loneliness behind this story. There was proof that you could only become someone if you betrayed your urgent desire for human connection. It didn’t seem quite right.
But what did Darcy know? Rachelle had run away from everything she knew to become something. Maybe that was one of life’s greatest pleasures. Carlotta was the sort of woman who would know.
“Tell me, Darcy, do you want children?” Carlotta asked.
Darcy was taken aback by the question. Since she was a girl, she’d known she wanted a family of her own with children who looked up to her, loved and needed her. She’d known she wanted to give her mother grandchildren. It was a no-brainer.
But Darcy sensed the answer Carlotta wanted to hear was a different one.
“I don’t know.” Darcy winced. She was betraying herself. She was betraying her only strong belief.
“You have to ask yourself where your commitment lies,” Carlotta said. Her eyes glinted. “Women can really only succeed if they throw away all thoughts of babies and marriage and fully throw themselves into their futures. I take it you’re dating someone? You’re a beautiful girl.”
Darcy enjoyed Carlotta calling her beautiful. She knew Carlotta didn’t just throw that word around.
“I have a boyfriend, yes.”
“An islander?”
Darcy’s cheeks were hot. “He grew up in Nantucket. Like me.”
For the first time since Darcy had reached Reese and Joel’s office, she remembered Steven was waiting for her text message about how it had gone. After work, he planned to return to Nantucket to pick her up in his boat. He’d brought her over this morning, kissed her lovingly, and said, Go get ’em, champ. Nobody in the world believed in her more than he did.
But Darcy couldn’t tell Carlotta that Steven was one of the good ones . Carlotta didn’t believe in love. She belittled it.
“But he knows you’re destined for greater things,” Carlotta said.
“He knows about the app.” Darcy’s stomach swirled with anxiety. “But he’s great, too. He’s a brilliant musician. He’s going on tour in August.” She wanted to say that maybe his band will take off after that. Maybe he’s destined for great things more than me. But even Steven knew that becoming a famous band was a pipe dream.
Darcy didn’t know why she wanted Carlotta to think he was the next big thing. It didn’t matter to her. She just wanted Steven to be happy.
But Carlotta was saying it plain as day. Happiness isn’t enough. You have to want more.
“It’s good to have fun,” Carlotta offered. “But don’t let yourself get stuck. The world is your oyster, Darcy. Let me guide you. Let me help you become what you’re meant to become.” Carlotta refilled their glasses with wine. “Don’t you dare let yourself fall in love with him. Love is a sticky thing. And when it dies, it leaves you all alone. Remember that.”
A little more than three hours later, Carlotta’s driver took Darcy back to the harbor to wait for Steven’s boat. Darcy shivered in the back seat of the air-conditioned vehicle. Her thoughts were slippery and incoherent after two too many glasses of wine. It wasn’t like her to drink like that during the afternoon. But Carlotta was the sort of woman you couldn’t say no to.
Carlotta had assured her that in just a month, your life will change. In just a month, you and your sister will rule Roma together.
Darcy was lost in her sudden and powerful desire to become someone. To prove to her family that Rachelle wasn’t the only success story in the family. She wasn’t sure how she could sleep tonight or the one after that, or any of the nights between now and Roma in July.
The driver tipped his hat when they reached the harbor. Darcy clambered out of the car and pressed her folder of ideas to her chest as she wandered along the edge of the dock and searched for Steven’s boat on the horizon. It wasn’t long till it slurped across the water, charging toward her. She could see Steven’s figure with both of his arms extended. It was clear he couldn’t wait to hug her. Her arms tingled with excitement.
But even still, Carlotta’s voice lurked in the back of her mind, reminding her not to fall in love with him.
Was it too late? Was she already lost in a love that would ultimately destroy her career—even before her career was born?
Steven helped Darcy clamber aboard and picked her up. “How did it go!”
Darcy dropped her head onto his shoulder. I love this. I love him. No! Not love! Her thoughts were so twisty.
“It went really well,” she said, which was anticlimactic.
Steven laughed. “You smell like wine.”
“We had a drink after the pitch.”
“It sounds like it was successful.” Steven raised his eyebrows and looked bemused.
“It felt really good to pitch it,” Darcy affirmed.
Wind tore off the sound and thrashed through Darcy’s hair. Why wasn’t she telling Steven all about Carlotta? There was so much to say about the wine and the cheese and her excitement for the app and their upcoming pitch in Roma! But Darcy was suddenly frightened of what it all meant.
“What do you say? You want to get burgers to celebrate?” Steven asked.
Darcy pulled her hair into a messy bun. “That sounds really nice.”
Her heart throbbed with sorrow. What if Steven really doesn’t fit into your future plans? What if Carlotta is right?
She fixed her face into a smile. “Full speed ahead? Back to Nantucket?”
“Back home we go.” Steven filled the sails, turned the boat around, and they were off.
Steven glanced at her curiously twice during their ride. It was as though he was seeing her for the first time. He senses something is wrong. But what is it? You couldn’t say if you tried.