Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,46

Leonard. Her intended betrothed was not from a “good” family, meaning one of the several dozen highly affluent German-Jewish families on the East Coast. Vivian’s parents weren’t impressed that the Hollanders owned a successful vineyard in Napa; Samuel and Gelleh might as well have been field hands.

Vivian had considered eloping, but ultimately her parents threw them a lavish wedding with a ceremony at Temple Emanu-El on Fifth Avenue followed by a reception for four hundred at the Plaza. Vivian had worn a custom Yves Saint Laurent gown in white damask cotton and white elbow gloves, and the wedding photographer told her over and over that she was a more beautiful bride than Grace Kelly. Yes, she certainly looked the part. But inside, she was a wreck. If her parents were already unhappy about her marriage, they would have a fit when they learned of the couple’s plans for the future.

Leonard had no illusions about how challenging it would be to start the first winery on the North Fork of Long Island. He’d been prepared to work hard. And he had. They both had.

She watched the groom pull his bride into his arms, dancing her around the veranda to the song “Lady in Red.”

Vivian felt tears in her eyes and blinked them back. She couldn’t pretend any longer that it was the loss of the business, the loss of the fortune, that was what really devastated her. After all, she had married Leonard Hollander for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.

It was the creeping sense of guilt.

She rushed away from the veranda, under the shady pergola, to the house. She felt weak with the unshakable certainty that this was karma, that she herself was responsible for the vineyard’s ruin.

* * *

Leah turned the pages of Chances, settled in a lounge chair by the pool. In the distance, she heard the wedding band playing “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas. The sun moved directly overhead.

The book was sprawling, over eight hundred pages, moving back and forth in time between the present-day 1970s and the characters’ early lives in the 1920s through the 1960s. It was taking her longer to read than she’d anticipated even though the characters jumped off the page: Gino Santangelo, a gangster with a heart of gold but a happy trigger finger; an African-American prostitute-turned-socialite named Carrie; and Gino’s gorgeous and rebellious daughter, Lucky. The supporting characters were an assorted band of blackmailers, lovers, petty thieves, and social climbers. The sex scenes were graphic, the dialogue blunt and profane. Jackie Collins wrote with an energy that left Leah, as a reader, nearly breathless. But what really got to her was the relationship between Lucky and her father—the way she refused to let Gino’s limited view of her define her life: She had no intention of following the route he had planned for her. School. College. Marriage. No way. She wanted to be like him. Rich. Powerful. Respected. She wanted people to jump when she gave the orders—just the way she always had for him.

Leah put the book down with a sigh. Lucky was the ultimate heroine: beautiful, ballsy . . . and respected. When she was young and her father was teaching her the ins and outs of his empire, it came with the caveat: “Of course, you’re only a figurehead. You’ll never be called upon to get involved.” And then as soon as he was temporarily exiled from the country, running from legal problems, she seized the moment to take the helm. By the time he returned, Lucky was the boss.

She couldn’t help but think of how she’d handled her own difficult father: scuttling off like a scared little rabbit.

“Hey,” Asher said, appearing at the edge of her chair. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and powder blue pinstriped shorts. His thick head of Hollander hair, just starting to silver at the temples, was tucked under a winery baseball cap. His tan had deepened in the past few days. He was slightly stockier than their father, and moved without Leonard’s air of authority. Still, anyone looking at him would see success—a guy who didn’t have a care in the world. And, considering his attitude about the sale, maybe he didn’t.

Leah took off her reading glasses, shielded her eyes from the sun, and looked up at him. “Hey.”

The wedding band had shifted to a slower gear, now playing that eighties song “Lady in