THE NEXT MORNING at Lark’s, Doe took the side door of the house to the driveway, the family door. The one that looked like a window. She received a blast of panic when she saw Daniel standing in the driveway by the garage—oops, vehicle barn—drinking an espresso. Waiting. He knew she’d stayed over, of course, she had followed Lark up the stairs last night.
“Thank God,” Lark had said when they were alone in the bedroom. “It’s always easier when he knows things.”
“So it’s okay that I’m here?” Doe had hovered by the door, almost ready to go back down the stairs, even though wanting to be with Lark was lighting her up.
Lark had kicked off her mules, sending them crashing into the closet. “He approves of you.” She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “That was awful.”
Then she had folded herself up in the bed, tucking her knees under her chin, covering her head with her arms, her hands in tight fists.
Doe had kissed each finger until the hands uncurled.
Now Doe watched Daniel as he smiled and raised his cup. Did he approve? Or did he want something? His gaze…she couldn’t figure it out, the way he looked at her. Not the dry slithering gaze of Ron back in Florida, but not without assessment.
“Beautiful morning,” he said. “You’re up early.”
Doe nodded. “Summers are busy.”
“I admire industry. My daughter will stumble down at eleven,” he said. “She’s worthless. Don’t give me that look, I know, I sound harsh. That’s the trouble with honesty.” Daniel leaned against Doe’s car. “She doesn’t try.”
“Is that it? That she doesn’t try? That’s her problem?”
“You’ll understand the whole continuum one day. Her mother is worthless, too, with her pretend job. Medicated and nuts and married to an asshole. I had to take over. Look, I financed Lark’s business for three years and watched her drive it into the ground. Do you know what they called her in the press? ‘Flower girl Lark Mantis.’ Flower girl! My assistant showed me some Instagram feed, it’s full of her just standing at parties. Now they call her Luminous Lark. Jesus. She has a hashtag. It’s embarrassing.”
Doe leaned against the car because her legs felt weak. This conversation was now straying into her territory. He was talking about seekrit-hamptons. She did what she usually did when forced into an uncomfortable conversation, repeated back what Daniel said. “She’s embarrassing you.”
“She’s embarrassing herself, and she doesn’t seem to care.”
“She doesn’t seem to.”
“Stop repeating what I say, I’m on to that trick,” Daniel said. “So what is this thing with you and my daughter? A fling or a thing? Okay, don’t answer. I could see it last night, you two are in deep, even if you don’t know it. Your generation with your fluid sexuality, you don’t need my approval or not, she’s an adult, you too, I get that. But I also think you might be good for her. I noticed the wine trick last night, by the way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Certainly an improvement on Lucas. He encouraged her faults. So work with me here.”
“Okay,” Doe said. “You want me to help you. Am I right?”
“What’s it like on the North Fork? Nobody stays here in the fall and winter.”
“Yeah, the locals only come alive when you’re here to crank the keys in our backs. When you leave we just slump over until Memorial Day.”
“I don’t feel bad about being wealthy, all right? What am I if I can’t use those things for my kid? She went to Brown, she went to Yale. She’s had every opportunity to rise. But every time I set up a meeting, she drifts away.”
“She doesn’t want to work for anybody,” Doe said.
“What is she, a five-year-old who wants to be an astronaut? You’ve got to work for somebody,” he said. “Even I work for somebody. I work for the deal. And who said she was good at being a boss? She was a terrible boss.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Doe said.
Daniel squinted at her. “And you know this because?”
“The way she talks about the farm,” Doe said. “She had their loyalty. They’re still in touch with her, you know that? Not because they want something, either. They’re still trying to make a go of it.”
“I know, she talked me into giving them seed money to take it over,” Daniel said. “Seed money for a farm.” He snorted.
“She needed a financial manager,” Doe said. “She needed someone who knows how to run things. What she’s good at is being a figurehead. That’s not nothing.”
“That is nothing.”
She waved her phone at him. “She’s Insta-famous. Those pictures your assistant showed you? She’s in all those photos not just because she’s photogenic. She’s an influencer. People look to her for trends. They’re not just looking at her. That dress she wore last night will sell out at Net-a-Porter by the end of the day. They weren’t taking a picture of you outside the restaurant. It was her.”
“That’s not an achievement.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s a profession!”
“It’s a con, I promise you.”
“I’m just saying, she could be a change agent.”
“I’m not even sure what that is. Why do I feel there’s something wrong with it?”
“Because you’re old.”
His eyes went flat. That was it, that was his weakness. She’d found it, and it turned out to be something so boring! Irrelevancy! The fear of every white man in his sixties with money and power. He almost disappointed her.
“I’m just saying she needs a platform,” she mumbled.
“Oh, Jesus, you kids. She doesn’t need a platform, she needs a job.” Daniel looked at her carefully. “You seem to have a lot of confidence. What did your father do? Where did you go to school?”
“Reed.”
“You grew up out there?”
“Florida. Miami.”
“Nobody grows up in Florida. Or if they do, they stay there.”
“Are you interviewing me now?”
“Where are your people from?”
“My people? I have a cousin in Boca, if that’s what you mean.”
“You look mixed, that’s all. Miami is a cosmopolitan city. South American? Don’t look at me that way, I’m just asking. Come on, help me out here. You’ve got an exotic look. It’s a compliment, okay?”
“Is that what it is?”
“No judgment here,” Daniel said. “Where you’re from has nothing to do with anything. America is about the now. The past is just a path. That’s all.” He drained his cup. “And I need another espresso.” He looked down at his bare feet. “Tell you what. I’ll drive you to work if you’ll hold the espresso cups.”
“My car is here.”
“Don’t worry about your car. I want to see it.”
“You want to see the Belfry.”
He dinged her nose, lightly, with an index finger. “I asked you to stop repeating everything I say.”
She wanted to smack his hand away. He knew it, and only grinned. “You can tell me about platforms.” He turned and walked away, knowing she’d wait.
Fuck this, she thought. I don’t have to wait.
She waited. He reemerged with two espresso cups. She climbed into his car, a hybrid Porsche (selling at somewhere near one hundred grand, she looked it up, “Daddy brings all the toy cars to the Hamptons,” Lark had said), and balanced the two cups. He would shift, hold out his hand for the cup, as though she were a waitress. Doe retaliated by kicking off her flats and crossing her legs. Her goal was to make him look. He did. So maybe it was sex, then. She did not want to sleep with Lark’s father. There would have been a time when she would have done it, but that time had passed. She liked to think she was getting smarter.
“If I drive up to the Belfry with you in this car people will talk,” she said.
“And do you care?”
“No.” Not true. She’d have to go through a tedious debrief with Catha.
“Good girl.”
She hated his condescension but she wanted his approval, a condition she often found herself in with older men. At Sag Harbor she directed him to the ferry that would take them to Shelter Island, then drove across the island to the ferry that would take them to the North Fork.
“This is a stupid system,” he said. “Incredibly inefficient.”
“Two different ferry companies.”
“So you wait on a line, take a ferry for five minutes, drive across an island, wait again, another five minutes across the water. It takes an hour to get to a place when it should take ten minutes. Insane.”
“That’s the point. Keeps it the way it is.”
“Yeah, well, even hellholes on the planet know about bridges.”
He drove through Greenport, looking at everything.
“What a dump,” he said.
“We actually like not living in a Madison Avenue facsimile.”
“Hey, I’m not criticizing. I like the country. It has so much room for development.” He grinned at her eye-roll. “No, seriously, this place has what I like. Vineyards. Nice views. When it comes to water, you just need the view, maybe a dock if you’ve got a boat, right? Nobody goes in the ocean in East Hampton. We just look at it. We’re packed with women who don’t want to get their hair wet.”
“That’s so sexist.”
“Darling, all men are sexist. Women, too.”
“Sure. But women being sexist about men is just complaining. Men being sexist about women gets them places.”
“Everybody has an equal shot in this country.”
“Do you really believe that? Didn’t your father finance your first business?”
“Father’s money, a loan from a bank, what’s the difference? I made the rest.” They were driving out of Greenport now, heading toward East Marion. “This is a town? Obviously this place isn’t maximized.”
“I’m telling you, most people don’t want maximized here.”
“Everybody wants to make money. You think these people don’t want their houses to appreciate? They all want to retire to the Carolinas, send their kids to good schools.”
They hit the causeway. “This is a decent view,” he said. “You need a hotel here.”
She pointed to the Belfry ahead, visible from the main road, and he slowed down. “Excellent visibility,” he said. “And up on a rise, like a church. Is it walkable from the village?”
“Easy walk.”
When he pulled into the parking lot, he unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t move. He looked at the building for a while. “Not bad,” he said. “Good bones. Farm vernacular. I like that. Is that the barn? Potential for sure. Dodge’s show was great, not enough people came.”
Wait. She hadn’t told him about Dodge’s show.
“Now that the median price is shooting up, the town is changing. Dodge’s show, that one with May Werlin, shows like that—they need an audience. What’s the most expensive house for sale here?”
“I have no idea.”
“Ten million. You know Nate Billows? He just bought it. Hedge fund guy. It’s just starting.”
Things fell into place. “You knew all the answers about the Belfry last night,” Doe said. “You just wanted me to say them in front of Lark.”
“Did you know Ruth Beamish quit a few days ago?”
“No,” Doe said, startled. She didn’t think it could happen that fast. “Why do you?”
The front door of the museum flew open. Catha stalked out.
“Who’s that?”
“Catha Lugner. Deputy director.”
“You like her?”
“Do I have to?”
Visibly upset, Catha jumped into her car and started the engine. She hit the gas and reversed without looking, straight into Daniel’s rear bumper.
“What the fuck!” Daniel twisted the rearview mirror. “I think I bit my tongue!”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Doe said, shouldering open the door.
Catha stumbled out of her car. “Oh my God oh my God!” she wailed. “Shit!”
Doe slammed the car door. “Catha? What was that?”
Catha rubbed her cheek. “I don’t know! I didn’t see you! Shit! You’re in a red zone, you know!” Tears began spilling from her eyes. “I deserve this. I did terrible things! I deserve what I get.”
“Chill, we’re not hurt,” Doe said. “What terrible things?”
Catha glanced over. “Wait, that’s not your car. Who is that?”
“Daniel Mantis. What did you mean, terrible things?”
Color drained from her face. “Are you serious?” she whispered. “What are you doing with Daniel Mantis?” Catha tucked her hair behind her ears several times. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.
Daniel exited the car. He strolled back to the rear bumper and inspected it. “Just a scratch,” he said.
“Mr. Mantis, I’m so sorry,” Catha said. Her lips stretched over her teeth, trying and failing to swap warmth for panic. “I don’t know what to say. I had a moment of…inattention. My foot just…slipped. Naturally I’ll pay for any damage.”
“Twenty-five thousand should do it,” Daniel said.
“I…”
“Relax, I’m kidding,” he said. “You were in quite a hurry.”
“But this is actually great, I mean, not the car, but to meet you. I’m Catha Shand-Lugner. Acting director.”
“What?” Doe asked.
Mindy’s SUV drove in. She craned her neck, saw Daniel, and almost crashed into a tree.
“You gals could use some driving lessons,” Daniel remarked.
Mindy scrambled out of the car, all fluster and activated antiperspirant. “Daniel! You’re here! You’re naughty, not giving us notice!”
Daniel knew Mindy?
Doe watched the dance. Daniel in his shorts and sneakers, hands in his pockets, back on his heels, accepting the courtship. Mindy, groping for lines of flattery she could employ, and settling on seeing his “fabulous” house in Architectural Digest. They were listing toward him as though on the deck of a boat. They were so obvious, so bad at this. Would he like some coffee? Or juice? Mindy suggested. “Are you a juicer?” she asked in that way she had, injecting a jolly archness to her tone that only smelled like the left-out girl in middle school, desperate to be liked.
Poor Mindy. Doe could almost feel sorry for her, if she didn’t also know what a complete bitch she was.
“Do you have mangoes?” Daniel asked. Turning just a fraction, he winked at Doe.
“I don’t know,” Catha said.
“We could send someone out,” Mindy said. “Doe?”
“Never mind. I’d love a tour, though,” Daniel said.
“I’d be glad to do it,” Mindy said. “I was an art history major at Smith.”
“Good for you.”
Daniel turned companionably toward the entrance. Mindy gave a little skip to keep up with him.
Doe’s phone buzzed, and she almost didn’t check it.
But it was Lark.
Just waking up and missing u
U Doe
I go to the U of Doe
She felt the warm pleasant music of Lark’s morning, the slow waking, the texting, the sliding downstairs in a silk wrapper and bare feet, where chef James would be slicing a peach for her smoothie. Or a mango, if she wanted one. No doubt some specialty food store somewhere on the Hamptons would deliver one piece of fruit. She pictured it, perfect and plump, nestled in a little wooden box. For a princess with a taste for it.
HE FOUND HER later, after the tour, after the glass of springwater, after the chat. He loomed over her desk.
“I’ll have your car driven over.”
“Thanks.”
He crouched down. Now they were eye level. Close enough where she saw how soft and pampered his skin was, with the plump tight look of injections. She pressed her knees together to stop herself from leaning back.
“These people are idiots,” he said.
“I know.”
“The historic collection is a joke. Buttons. They should be auctioned, raise some money. They belong in a museum.”
“This is a museum.”
“Lark could be a change agent, isn’t that what you said?”
“Yes. But I didn’t mean this. She wouldn’t want this. Did you meet with Mindy before this? Did you push Ruthie out?”
“I had coffee with Mindy a few weeks ago. Weird smell. I know her parents a little. She said Ruthie was on her way out. I said, I have a very talented daughter. That was about the sum of it.”
“Sure, if you don’t factor in your money. You pushed her out!”
“Please. If a board president wants you out, start packing. And I’ve met your Ruthie, she’s hardly destitute. Hey,” he said, peering at her, “don’t be scared, little girl. You have a role here. But let’s keep this idea from Lark, shall we? Just for now.”
“I can’t lie to Lark.”
“Sure you can.” He looked around, down at his feet. “I hate this carpet,” he said. He jackknifed to his feet, smiling. “All I have to do is change it.”
“The carpet?”
“Everything.”