which kind of gets me high. The ethical implications of accepting all of these gifts is an ongoing concern. But on the other hand, who am I to tell a billionaire how to spend his money? Maybe I am being seduced by the lifestyle. Mostly, however, it’s just Beck.
Being uncertain as to what people wear to charity luncheons, I went with a Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress and the black knee-high boots. Doubt that I’ll ever make Instagram Fashionista status, but I feel good. Especially after using eye masks and half a tube of concealer. My shitty night’s sleep has two causes: The first being performance anxiety over today. The second being nightmares from Henry’s ridiculously gory horror film. “It’s by the guy who did The Lord of the Rings,” he’d said, getting my hopes up but pointedly not mentioning that the name of the film was literally Bad Taste. Last time Henry ever gets to pick. Ever.
The event is held at a restaurant in a reclaimed big old brick building. A factory, perhaps. It’s all fancy inside with cool modern light fixtures and linen tablecloths. About eighty or so people fill the private room overlooking the river. My presence confuses the ma?tre d’ and the woman he discreetly calls over.
“Miss Lawrence is here in place of Mrs. Elliot,” he says to the lady. She looks to be in her fifties, stylish with red lipstick and curly gray hair.
“Oh,” is all she says.
Awkward. “Perhaps her assistant forgot to inform you,” I say. “Catherine asked me to come in her place. Well, she asked her grandson to ask me. She wasn’t feeling well, apparently. Is that a problem?”
The woman just blinks at me.
“Not that she wasn’t feeling well, but that she sent me in her place, I mean.” Specificity is good, babbling less so. This is not a fortuitous start to my first solo event.
“Of course not,” says another woman. She’s a decade or so older than me with cool orange glasses. “I’m Yumi Manning, head of partnerships. And this is Debra Stein, philanthropy manager.”
“Alice Lawrence.”
We all shake hands and the ma?tre d’ heads back to the front of the restaurant. Call me paranoid, but I’m getting a bad feeling about this. Grandma Catherine doesn’t strike me as the type to hire people who forget to do things. Especially when she went to the effort of requesting my presence here in the first place. What the fuck is going on?
Debra disappears into the crowd the first chance she gets.
A few people stop and stare at me. Perhaps they’ve seen my picture in the social pages with Beck. Whatever the cause, it makes me even more fidgety and self-conscious.
“Let’s get you a drink.” Yumi stops a passing waiter.
“That would be great. White wine,” I say, because alcohol. “Thank you.”
“Hello, Alice.” Penny the lawyer who sat next to me at the gala is smiling. Someone is actually happy to see me. Also, she looks awesome in a green pantsuit. “This is a surprise.”
“I’ll let you two catch up,” says Yumi as she too takes the chance to bolt.
I smile, relieved to know someone. “Hi. Catherine sent me.”
“Did she now?” asks Penny, tone wary.
“Yes. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I also work with the Elliot Family Foundation.”
“Well, it’s good to see you again.”
Penny licks her lips, looking out over the crowd. “This was one of Jack’s causes. Catherine is more inclined toward giving to the polo club and the children’s boarding schools and colleges. Their fraternities and sororities and so on.”
“Ah.”
“Rumors are rife that she’s planning on cutting the donation to the libraries by at least half.”
“Are the rumors true?” I ask.
“Yes, they are.”
Fuck. “That’s why she didn’t want to come.”
“Got it in one. Yumi and Debra were hoping to wine and dine her into a more giving frame of mind,” says Penny. “Feeling like the sacrificial lamb yet?”
I down a mouthful of wine before replying. “B-a-a-a.”
She laughs.
Oh yeah. This is awesome. I’ll just be over here being awkward if anyone wants me.
Lunch is artisanal cheeses followed by red wine wagyu pot roast with sweet potato mash and a fruit tart for dessert. The food is excellent, however, the conversation sucks. Yumi and Debra are seated on either side of me but they spend the bulk of their time talking to the other people at the table. And I get it. With approximately four hundred and twenty-eight dollars in my account, I’m little help to their funding situation. Yet again I am the person