backstage passes at a BTS concert. If she hadn’t just been tortured by Auden for seventy-five minutes straight, if she hadn’t looked like she had just peed herself in these damn useless yoga pants that she was about to throw in the garbage, she would not have been so nervous. There was no reason in the world to be nervous. George was just some kid she had met one summer a long time ago. They had known each other for only a week, and they were both victims of Capri, yes, victims swept up by all that beauty and history and achingly romantic, Instagrammable moments of Issie’s wedding. Yeah, that entire hedonistic occasion was designed to seduce. She was so much older and wiser now. She was a Brown graduate, she had made Artcom’s “Thirty Under Thirty” list of the art world’s leading young professionals, and, for Chrissakes, she was engaged to Cecil Pike. Who was George Zao compared with him? Who cares if even after sweaty puppy yoga he still looked like the ultimate thirst trap while she looked like a wet hamster? George Zao was nothing to her.
Lucie pulled up their gravel driveway, parked behind her mom’s twenty-year-old Oldsmobile Bravada, and ran up the steps to the front door, wondering where she and her mom would go for lunch today. She was suddenly craving the egg-white omelet at Babette’s. She opened the front door and a distinct odor hit her like a gale-force wind. Chinese fermented fish sauce. She had known this smell only to exist at her Tang grandmother’s house in Seattle.
“Mom, are you there?” she called out as she crept down the hallway. Entering the kitchen, she was met by a sight she had not witnessed in years: her mother at the stove stirring furiously at something in a saucepan. Mary, their cook, was standing next to her, peering over Marian’s shoulder with a mixture of curiosity and alarm, ready to intervene on a second’s notice.
“See, you have to keep stirring so the egg whites turn into flowers,” Marian was saying.
“What’s happening, Mom?” Lucie asked, almost alarmed.
“Lucie!” a voice called out.
Lucie spun around and saw Rosemary Zao coming toward her, arms outstretched. She felt herself smothered in a charmeuse hug as Rosemary continued tittering away. “Look at you! Even prettier than I remember! You’ve put on weight, haven’t you? Good, good, I thought you were much too skinny before.”
“Mrs. Zao!” Lucie sputtered. What was this woman doing in their kitchen?
Marian turned to her. “Lucie! Isn’t this fun? I ran into Mrs. Zao at High Tits this morning after my run and decided to introduce myself. We started chatting about how you couldn’t find any decent Chinese food in the Hamptons, and before you know it, I decided to make lunch. Believe it or not, Mama’s gonna cook! I got out Po Po’sfn1 recipe book and I’m making corn egg drop soup and crispy flounder fillets in garlic sauce, and Mrs. Zao is going to make fried stinky tofu and noodles with beef and egg gravy, Cantonese style! Remember how you and Freddie used to love that dish when we went to Hong Kong?”
“We’re using fresh linguini, since we couldn’t find rice noodles at Stop & Shop,” Rosemary interjected. “And, Marian, please stop calling me Mrs. Zao or you’ll make me feel like I’m a thousand years old. It’s Rosemary!”
“I need to take a shower,” Lucie said, backing out of the kitchen slowly. Two Zaos in one day was too much for her to process.
Her mother called after her, “I’m almost done cooking, and Chinese food has to be eaten scalding hot! So don’t be a slowpoke!”
“Yes, don’t be a slowpoke! I just texted George, and he’s going to join us for lunch. I can’t wait for his reaction when he sees you again,” Rosemary added.
Too late, Lucie thought.
CHAPTER SIX
Outlook Avenue
East Hampton, NY
Lucie emerged from her shower refreshed and with a plan in place. Anticipating that George would be downstairs by now, she would pull her wet hair up into a high ballerina bun, and then she would put on her sleeveless white jumpsuit from The Row, the one she wore to big power meetings that always made heads swivel. It would look like she hadn’t put much effort into it, and the outfit was conservative yet alluring. It would erase the hot mess image of this morning from George’s memory forever.
She got dressed quickly, put on her favorite sandals from Capri, and ran down the stairs,