Chapter 24
‘He never speaks much, unless among his intimate acquaintances. With them he is remarkably agreeable.’
Igot to the airport, dragging my overstuffed suitcase up to the check-in desk.
I’d packed up my old life – Marmite, English tea, family photos in silver frames – to feather the new Californian nest. The next time I would set foot on British soil would be two days before the wedding, in the village church.
After that, we’d be off around the world on a honeymoon funded by Bunny and Chase Sr as a wedding present.
‘Miss Elliot, may I congratulate you on your engagement? You’re being upgraded to first,’ said the woman at the Continental check-in desk.
The hangover from Dom’s vintage port send-off evaporated in an instant. ‘Thank you! But… how did you know I was engaged?’
‘Mr and Mrs Chase Fuller Sr are million-mile clients. They made a personal request through our president. You’re in seat 1A, Miss Elliot. Have a wonderful flight.’
I breezed through security, past duty-free, through the gate and onto the plane, where I was handed champagne and ushered to a leather seat that reclined at the touch of a button. I was back in the lap of the Fullers.
Bunny was waiting at arrivals, glossy-lipped and full of gossip. ‘God, Florence, it’s good to have you back. Everyone’s been asking where their favourite English girl’s disappeared to.’
We air-kissed across the front seats of her Mercedes as I hoisted my case into the boot. She launched straight into planning as we pulled onto the freeway.
‘Couple of errands on the way. There’s this new bridal place in San Carlos. Heavy discounts. I called ahead, they’re expecting us.’
My stomach dropped. No time for a shower. No time for decompression. She pressed her foot down like she was on the final lap at Silverstone.
Thirty minutes later, I was in a concrete strip mall, stripped to my underwear, as a woman half my height pulled a giant white meringue over my head.
‘God, that’s awful,’ Bunny said, eyeing the mirror.
‘I’ll get a new dress,’ said the woman, bustling off to the back room.
‘They’d never fit this on the plane,’ I muttered.
‘I’m thinking sleeker,’ said Bunny. ‘Oh, and I found a cerise silk that’s perfect for your bridesmaids. I hope you got their measurements?’
I sucked air through my teeth and lied. ‘Oh… I entirely forgot.’
Alice had refused outright. My cousin’s measurements remained a mystery. ‘Leave it with me,’ Alice had said. ‘You have enough to worry about.’
‘Well, call them tonight. We’re on the clock,’ said Bunny, not missing a beat.
We tried on twelve more dresses, including one that looked like a Victorian pelmet stitched to a quilt. Eventually, Bunny admitted defeat.
‘I’ll pick you up at 8:30 tomorrow morning. We’ll hit Palo Alto as they open.’
By the time she dropped me at the house, I felt like I’d flown across time zones and landed in someone else’s body. I dragged my suitcase into the hallway and heard voices out on the deck.
‘Hey, honey, you’re home!’ called Chase, stubbing out a cigarette. He stood to greet me, looking rumpled but cheerful. Beside him sat Bill, our real estate neighbour.
Chase smelled of beer and pine cologne. We hugged.
‘Hey, Florence,’ said Bill, offering a lopsided grin. ‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.’ He lumbered off towards his house, thank God.
Chase led me to the bedroom, and we stripped each other in a frenzy of want.
‘Ballgame’s about to start,’ he said afterward, levering himself off the mattress.
I took that as my cue to shower. American sport was sacred. During a game, not even I outranked the TV.
It took another full week to find the right dress – sleek ivory silk. It wasn’t me. I’d never been polished or elegant, but it ticked the boxes of a Fuller society wedding. I came home with it two hours before Candice’s wine shower.
Candice hadn’t sent the guest list to me. Bunny had taken over. My job, apparently, was to smile and sparkle.
‘Wow, is this where they live?’ I asked as Chase pulled into a driveway flanked by faux-French turrets.
‘Sure is. The De Maltas practically own San Francisco,’ he said as a valet in a green blazer opened my door.
Inside, the air shimmered with money. Gilt mirrors, marble floors, thick Aubusson rugs.
Bunny appeared in a flurry. ‘God, you’re late!’
‘Give it a rest, Mom,’ said Chase. ‘I had a call.’
‘Chase, darling!’ sang Candice, appearing in a full-length Givenchy gown. She looked like a Disney princess.
She leaned in to kiss Chase. Bunny sighed as she watched them. They were her dream couple, perfectly framed.
‘Florence, cute dress,’ said Candice. ‘I think I saw it at Macy’s the other week.’
I cringed. ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. ‘Thank you for hosting,’ I added quickly. ‘Your home is beautiful.’
Chase vanished to the bar, leaving me cornered by Bunny and Candice, who were deep in gossip about a woman called Maggie who’d had an extreme facelift.
Chase Sr rescued me. We did the rounds, greeting people with names I barely remembered, smiling, sipping champagne, bearing the ring and the accent. The wine gifts stacked up like a Bordeaux fortress.
By the time we got home it was past midnight. I was barefoot, carrying my heels across the driveway when headlights swept the trees.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
‘Probably Bill and Anita. Or someone else I invited,’ said Chase, rummaging in the boot.
‘It’s Tuesday.’
‘We’ve got to celebrate.’
‘But the wine’s for laying down, isn’t it? After the wedding?’
He didn’t answer. ‘Hi! Give me a hand!’ he shouted as Bill emerged from the shadows.
Soon, ten of Chase’s uninvited friends were lolling on the deck.
Wine flowed, glasses clinked, and the stereo was blasting out Neil Young.
I tried to feign joy, but a nagging feeling had me off-kilter.
These people, were they genuinely here to wish us well, or just to enjoy free entertainment?
Some bottles were barely tasted before being tossed aside.
The good stuff, the really good stuff, would be poured down the drain in the morning.
This was the Fuller life: high society by daylight, Grateful Dead by night.
At 2am, I quietly slipped into the bedroom, away from the noise. The furnace whispered through the vents. I began to undress, then the bathroom door burst open.
Bill walked out, followed by Cheryl, a waitress from the local bar. She held an empty glass, speech slurred. ‘Sorry, honey,’ she said. ‘You heading to bed?’
I smiled tightly. ‘Yes. It’s late.’
‘I’ll make sure no one comes in.’ She winked and closed the door. I stepped into the bathroom and locked it. The smell of cigarette smoke hit me. Then I saw it: a rolled dollar bill, a razor blade, and faint white smears across the tiles.
My stomach dropped. I sat on the toilet lid, staring. I’d seen enough films to know the ritual – chop, rake, roll, snort.
Cocaine.
I took a long, hot shower, trying to steam it away.
Chase came in later, buzzing with party energy. ‘That was a great party, huh?’
‘Is everyone doing coke?’
A pause. ‘Just a bit, to keep things lively.’
‘And you?’
He leaned in and kissed me. His breath tasted metallic.
‘Sometimes. It’s no big deal. Everyone does it. Hey, guess what Candice said?’
I braced for a joke. ‘What?’
‘She dragged me into the bathroom and said we should have an affair.’
I sat rigid.
‘She only married Hector for his money,’ he added, laughing.
‘What did you say?’
‘Told her I’ve got an English rose to tend to. Night, honey.’ He kissed me again and left.
I stayed where I was, staring at the ceiling, picturing them reflected in a mirror of infinite possibilities. Sleep didn’t come.