Chapter 6 #2
“How wonderful,” I replied, forcing a wistful tone. “My father has traveled some, for gemstones, of course.”
“Something he is passionate about, I imagine. Has he started a new collection recently? Anything of note that I should know about?”
I realized then she was more than a spendthrift and an admirer of beautiful things. She was competitive about her status and the things she owned, and she probably liked to outshine her friends in that way, too. I shouldn’t be surprised, given the way she flaunted her wealth.
“Yes, he’s working on the pearl and diamond necklace design that I showed you at your party,” I said.
Afraid that wasn’t impressive enough for her, I added, “One of our regular clients from Paris requested an original. It’ll be quite beautiful when finished.
” A lie but I wanted to make us appear as in demand as possible.
“How interesting. Do you work on originals?”
“I’ve worked on many of the Beaumont designs, including my own when there’s time. I’m in the process of designing my own collection.” I didn’t add that I hadn’t had the heart or the will to work on them lately.
“Will you show them to me?” she said.
“I’d be honored to,” I said, enthusiasm pouring into my voice for the first time since I’d met her. She noticed.
“Well now, it seems you should have told me that first.”
A ghost of a smile played on my lips. “You’ve been so generous with your time after being left in the lurch by Beaumont Jewelers. I’m still so embarrassed. I didn’t feel I should—”
“You’re not like your brother, are you? Where he was boisterous and congenial, you’re quiet and clever.” She turned the car onto Sycamore Lane.
I froze at the mention of Julien but forced myself to breathe normally. I had to become accustomed to this somehow, to people mentioning him in casual conversation as if he’d simply gone on holiday. I trained my eyes on the road in front of us. “Yes, we were different but complementary.”
She flicked a glance my way. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
Though she’d said the right thing, I had the distinct feeling she’d meant to bring him up, had watched my expression to see how comparing me to him would affect me.
I’d caught a whiff of emotional manipulation, perhaps, or maybe I was being overly sensitive, thinking too much of it.
Evalyn had been kind and more than accommodating by entertaining my request to consider Beaumont Jewelers again. And now this, inviting me on a drive…
She patted my knee kindly. “Are you hungry? I could eat a horse.”
Grateful for the change in subject, I agreed.
We rolled to a stop in front of a redbrick, two-story home with black shutters.
Rocking chairs and potted ferns dotted a narrow porch.
I hoped Evalyn hadn’t decided we’d dine at another of her friend’s houses.
It took most of my energy to put on airs with her, and I didn’t think I could face yet another afternoon with a handful of silly women who did nothing but gossip the day away.
To my chagrin, she put the car in park and honked her horn until the front door opened.
The woman named Carrie glided down the walk.
As I watched the uncannily beautiful woman climb into the car, the flicker of recognition came again.
Where had I seen her before? I was certain I had…
When she noticed I was staring at her, my eyes darted away, past her, and I pretended to focus on something behind her.
“Hello, ladies,” she said. “Where are we off to for lunch?”
“Oh, the usual,” Evalyn replied. “Lizzie, you remember Carrie, don’t you? She’s my closest friend.” She threw Carrie a wide smile.
Carrie returned her smile. Though her expression seemed genuine, I noticed she didn’t make the point of agreeing with Evalyn’s comment.
We drove to the Monaco, a swanky little hotel and restaurant where a valet parked the car.
Inside, we were shown to “Evalyn’s table” near the window overlooking a garden.
Bea and Sharon already waited for us there, along with a third woman, a beautiful, elegant blond.
She wore her hair in short waves around her face and a spring-green dress that dipped in a deep V in the front with mesh-style lace covering the would-be-bare areas of skin.
Ropes of pearls encircled her neck, and an enormous yellow diamond sparkled on her right hand.
Everything about her exuded confidence, wealth, and self-possession.
I wondered what that must be like, to be looked upon with constant admiration and envy.
As we took seats, everyone exchanged pleasantries.
Evalyn tucked her hand into the crook of my arm. “This is my new friend, Lizzie Beaumont. Lizzie, this is Gwen Chaney.”
“How do you do,” I said, offering a polite smile to the blond, more than a little surprised by Evalyn’s introduction.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Gwen said as she took in my attire. “Who designed your dress? It must be…”
A couple of the others exchanged sharp smiles, and I realized I had stumbled not only into one of the most elite circles in the country but a den of barracudas.
“Oh, Gwen, don’t be so dreadful,” Evalyn retorted. “Not everyone has your sense of style. Lizzie is my guest, and I may be hiring her.”
I didn’t miss the slight, even from Evalyn.
I refrained from looking down at my faded sage-green dress and instead reminded myself of my posture.
I wondered when—and if—Evalyn was going to hire me officially or if she would ultimately turn me away.
Perhaps enduring these women would be for nothing, and I was as close to the truth about Julien as I’d ever be. The thought left me cold.
Understanding lit Gwen’s eyes. “Oh, I see. Lizzie is the help.” She forced a smile. “Well, I’m sure Evie will make you feel right at home. She’s awful good at that.”
The help.
It didn’t take a genius to glean what she meant: The help didn’t belong among them, drinking their champagne and smiling their smiles, and my clothing only underscored it.
Bea covered her mouth to hide a smile.
And I realized something in that instant.
They enjoyed this, shooting arrows at one another, besting each other in the art of conversation and in the game of who was better in deed, appearance, and breeding.
It seemed here, among the wealthy, friendship took on a different definition from the one I’d been taught.
I squirmed inwardly as the others watched me with a hint of curiosity and the glint of challenge in their eyes.
Did I have what it took to be counted among them, they said with every gesture, every flutter of lashes, every mannerism that seemed rehearsed.
I forced myself to smile brightly, as if Gwen hadn’t insulted me. “Thank you for the welcome. I’m delighted to be counted among Evalyn’s retinue.”
“You’ll have to fill me in on your little jewelry shop,” Gwen replied. “Perhaps I could tell my nanny about it. She has quite the collection of trinkets and paste jewelry.”
My father’s heart would seize in his chest should he hear such an insult.
He despised the newly popular industrialized jewelry, the fake stones and poorly constructed pieces.
He’d spoken of the department stores who sold them as if they were his mortal enemy.
I’d grown to despise the factory-made colored glass and banal designs as well.
They threatened the very nature of what jewelers had done for centuries: created art.
It was no secret every jeweler despaired at the increasing popularity of costume jewelry.
Making luxury items readily available to everyone rendered our business of refined beauty, of aspirations and dreams, obsolete.
If costume jewelry took the place of true craftsmanship, Beaumont Jewelers’ doors would be permanently shuttered.
Where we’d go from there, I couldn’t imagine.
My father had ranted about it often enough.
Craftsmanship and artistry took a lifetime of practice and skill.
Starting over in another field wasn’t an option.
Suddenly I felt compelled to defend his honor, if not my own. “I assure you, Gwen, nothing we make is paste jewelry. The pearls I’m wearing are from the South Seas off the coast of Australia. They’re of the finest variety in the world.”
“Let us see those!” Bea said, leaning across the table to reach for my bracelet.
I slid the bracelet off and gave it to her. She oohed and aahed over the piece before passing it around the table. When it came back to me, I fastened it on my wrist with satisfaction.
“Are the earrings and brooch yours, too?” Sharon asked.
I nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Your family’s jewelry is divine,” Evalyn said before ordering a round of martinis for the table, two dozen oysters, paté, and canapés.
“Thank you,” I said, genuinely delighted and surprised by her compliment.
“My father apprenticed with the best in Paris and taught me everything he knows.” I didn’t go into how successful our company had been before Julien’s death.
My father had hummed along with new designs at quite a pace, especially since he’d had me and Julien to help with much of the labor.
We were able to expand quickly. Though our name was well established and respected, our industry required we create new pieces regularly to compete with other jewelers and with the costume jewelry market.
All in a bid to stay relevant and to keep revenue flowing.
As the food arrived, I filled my plate. I’d never tasted anything so fine—had been unable to taste anything for months—and found my reluctance receding as my hunger flared. I ate without reserve as the others picked at a bite here and there.
Evalyn watched me with delighted amusement. “Isn’t the food divine? Eat up, darling. You’re as thin as a ghost.” Next, she ordered an array of amuse-bouches, fruit and vegetable salads, and two bottles of champagne.