Chapter 15
I stand in front of the full-length mirror, scrutinizing my reflection.
I’m wearing a long black dress, sandals, and a pair of diamond studs Topher had given me for my birthday.
I’ve already changed my outfit twice. Tonight is dinner with the Brooks.
It’s an impossible gathering to dress for.
A dinner with wealthy strangers on the thousand-acre homestead.
High heels or Birkenstocks? One could make a case for either.
“Is it too much?” I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.
Topher pops his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand.
“No. You look great. And you looked great before. You’ve got to relax—they are just people.
” He smiles, which feels a little patronizing.
I wonder if all this is easier for him because he simply has more confidence, or easier because he’s more removed.
I somehow feel as though I’m representing my mother and my grandmother, and any misstep on my part will reflect on them.
I sigh and turn away from the mirror. I hate myself for caring this much.
I certainly had plenty of wealthy peers at Brown, and at work.
But in those situations, I found confidence in the fact that I had made it there, too, had literally been accepted as good enough by those institutions.
And I had done so without leveraging connections or endowments.
In some ways I even felt superior. But now I’m unemployed.
And while I’m living on this large estate, I did not grow up here.
At five minutes to seven, we head over to the Brook estate.
As we start up the long, winding gravel drive, I keep stumbling as I try to take in everything around me.
The houses loom large above us, magnificent against the magenta sky.
I hear a lowing noise, and to my left, I see two highland cows on the hillside.
I’m surprised I’ve never noticed them before.
They are so endearing looking, with their shaggy hair falling in almost rock band fashion into their eyes.
To the right, a small stream runs down the hill, presumably meeting up with the river below.
The smell of wildflowers mixes with the earthy scent of the cattle, and the air feels simultaneously fresh and heavy.
Up ahead, I notice the outline of a figure coming down the drive. It’s a man, tall, with light blond hair. He wears jeans and a button-up shirt.
“Hello!” he calls, lifting a hand in salute.
“Hi there!”
“I’m John Brook, Madeline’s husband. She sent me down to greet you.”
“So good to meet you. I’m Elinor. This is Topher.” We reach each other and exchange handshakes.
“We are so happy to have you guys over. Let me walk you up.” John turns and gestures for us to follow him up the drive. He talks easily as we walk.
“And that’s Fergus and Angus.”
“The cows?” I try not to sound out of breath. My legs are substantially shorter than John’s, and pregnancy has made me easily winded.
John laughs. “Yes. Wanted to honor their Scottish heritage.”
“I love it,” I say, laughing, and then something clicks in my brain. “But wait, did you say your last name was Brook?” As soon as the words are out, I’m not sure I should have sounded so surprised.
But John seems unbothered. “That is correct.” He gives me a smile, showing rows of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, like he was raised by an orthodontist. “Madeline wears the pants in the family. She wasn’t changing her name so . . . I am now John Windsor Brook.”
“Ah, I caved too quick,” I say smiling at Topher.
We are two-thirds of the way up the drive, when it forks and leads up to the three separate residences.
We veer up the middle to Madeline and John’s federal estate.
The brick is a warm red, and the windows are all alight, and set against the backdrop of the sinking sun, the house seems to glow from the inside.
As we get closer, I can hear the sound of classical violin music playing and the chatter of voices.
John leads us through a large, wooden front door, framed with windows.
We enter a grand foyer. A wide spiral staircase leads up to the second floor and a chandelier hangs from the high ceiling.
I recognize it, I realize, from the Vogue article.
I think there was a shot of Madeline and John with their arms around each other’s waists, leaning against the banister.
Unable to keep from glancing around, I notice a massive grandfather clock tucked beside the front entrance and several large oil paintings in gold frames on the walls.
“Elinor, wonderful to see you!” Madeline floats into the room in a soft cream-colored sleeveless dress, red hair pulled back in a loose chignon.
“Thank you for having us. I love your dress,” I say earnestly, as she pulls me in for a hug and kisses me lightly on the cheek. She smells like expensive flowers.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you. It’s from our summer line. Most people don’t know you can wear cashmere in the summer.” She shakes her head at me, like we are sharing a joke.
I realize that when she stopped by, she had never directly mentioned her family owns a wool and cashmere company but must just assume that everyone knows who she is.
“Oh, well, it’s gorgeous.”
“Come into the kitchen to meet Stuart and Isabelle,” she says, turning gracefully on a heel.
We follow Madeline down the hall and into an enormous kitchen. Standing beside an island that should really be called a continent are the elderly couple I’d stalked online.
Stuart holds a rocks glass of whiskey and comes around to shake hands. “Wonderful to meet you both.” His hand is trembling, and it looks as though he’s going to shake the whiskey right out of the glass.
Isabelle joins her husband. The two of them are nearly the same height, both hunched with age and looking like a soft breeze could knock them over. She peers up at us, her eyes like twin crescents, beaming.
“It will be so nice to have more young folks around here.” She takes my hands, and while her skin is papery, her grip is strong. It’s hard not to think of my grandmother. I feel my eyes well a little, but there’s a warmth in my belly at being so welcomed.
“Drinks?” Madeline holds a pitcher of sangria. “We also have beer, wine, and a full bar, so we can accommodate whatever you like.”
“I’d love to but I’m actually pregnant.” I smile, making a vague gesture to my midsection.
“Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations, you two.” Madeline comes forward and hugs me, her heady perfume making me instantly on the brink of a headache. As she pulls back, I notice a look pass over her face, though I can’t pinpoint what the look means or why it should mean anything at all.
“Where on earth are Julian and Joan?” Madeline asks John, looking a little flustered.
“Julian just texted. Said they’d be here in thirty minutes.”
“Let’s do a quick tour then, shall we?” Madeline leads Topher and me out through a set of stunning French doors to the patio. My breath catches at the view.