DOE STOOD ON the back lawn of the Belfry, looking out at the party. It was an incredible success, exactly as Lark had envisioned.
Lark had instructed everyone to dress in an “almost color,” and the lawn was awash in pale floaty dresses and beautiful shirts, blue lanterns hanging from the trees. The inflatables—pool toys and giant animals bobbing from compressed air—dotted the lawn and were tethered with bright ropes. The bouncy castle was ignored except for those who had consumed a few too many signature cocktails. There was vegan food and black cod and sushi, there was prosecco mixed with Aperol, and party favors were pareos from Calypso, tied with ribbons and stacked, ready to be handed out as people left for their cars.
It was nothing like a Belfry event, nothing at all. Ruthie never could have committed this much money to one party. She saw board members, but none of the usual local crowd. The question of whether these new glittery people would ever become a base of support for the museum was not considered. Doe could see Mindy in the crowd, beaming with the excitement of having a New York Times photographer at the Belfry. Gloria was by her side, the only person dressed in glaring white.
The girl nobody could take their eyes off wore a long dress with embroidered flowers that seemed to only whisper the color apricot. Her hair was loose and golden, her feet in the creamy laced flat sandals that everyone was wearing this summer because Lark had been photographed in them. Doe had been the one to take the shot and post it.
Daniel was there, in off-white pants and a pale-blue shirt, standing with his Hamptons girlfriend, the TV journalist. Doe scanned the crowd and saw Catha at the food table with the scowling husband nobody liked, she couldn’t remember his name, who was filling his plate with the lobster mac and cheese—weird, because she thought he was kosher. Nobody else was eating.
Arms slipped around her from behind. “Why are you hiding?” Lark asked in her ear.
“I don’t recognize anyone. And you gave me the night off, remember?”
“Daddy hired the photographers so that you wouldn’t have to work. He can be sweet, you know. In the last two days I think he invited everyone he ever ran into in his life. As usual, it’s his party. Help me face it. You look positively gorg, by the way.”
Doe had allowed Lark to buy her the dress. They’d searched and searched in the shops of East Hampton until Lark was satisfied. She pronounced the color exquisite—somewhere between iced butter and crème fraîche, she said. It fit Doe perfectly, having been altered by Lark’s tailor. A fifties look, very Audrey in Sabrina, a tight bodice and a full skirt with hidden pockets in the folds. Lark had the tailor add them, remembering that Doe had said a dress with pockets was her ideal.
Doe allowed herself to be tugged. They walked out onto the lawn, arms around each other’s waists, and waded into the crowd of posing people having the last fun of summer. So many photo ops for her Instagram. Not tonight. She would not take out her phone, not once, no matter who showed up.
“Oh my God, Alec Baldwin is here,” Lark said.
“Lark!” Daniel beckoned.
“Oh, shit, the summons,” Lark said. “Let’s get it over with.”
Catha had joined Mindy and Gloria, leaving Awful Husband to go back for seconds. Mindy had a look of concentration on her face that probably had to do with holding her stomach in.
Doe enjoyed the start of surprise on Catha’s face when she saw her, arms linked with Lark. Mindy looked displeased, and Gloria, teeth clenched with the effort of being amusing, didn’t notice anything at all.
This was enjoyable, more than enjoyable, an actual high, having board members focus on her as more than an afterthought, having them wonder why her arm was through Lark’s, why Daniel knew her so well.
“Look around at this party,” Daniel said. “Amazing. You can see that Lark is a visionary. I think she’s going to do incredible things.”
“Incredible,” Mindy echoed. “The Belfry is transformed! It’s like a breath of fresh air!”
If there was a cliché floating by, Mindy would always spear it and serve it up on a platter.
In her pocket, in an organza bag with a silver ribbon, she had the perfect present. She was waiting until the end to give it to Lark. How funny it was that she’d had it all along. My father’s watch, she would say. Sorry I don’t have the box.