Даниэла Стил - All That Glitters

On Thursday he texted her, apologized for the short notice, and invited her to a party on Friday night. “Nothing posh,” he said in his text, “probably just mash and bangers or fish and chips, in the garret of an artist friend.” It sounded like fun to her, and he picked her up at seven-thirty at her mews house, looked around and was impressed.

“I say, Coco, this is very nice indeed. You must be paying a fortune for it. These old mews houses are very hard to find.” It was nicely decorated, which she was enjoying too, and came with everything she needed, a fully stocked kitchen, nice linens, and everything she could have wanted.

“The rent isn’t too bad, and it feels like a dollhouse. I love it. The owner moved to Hong Kong for two years. I was lucky to find it.”

“You certainly were.” They had a drink before they left, and when they got to the party in a shabby neighborhood, they walked up four floors to the artist’s studio. There must have been a hundred people squeezed into the tiny space. The smell of marijuana was heavy in the air, and the crowd was even more eclectic than it had been at Leslie’s, a little more down-market, but mostly very arty. Even in clean jeans and a nice blue sweater, she felt overdressed. Nigel was in a tweed jacket and jeans again, and seemed comfortable wherever he was, in any kind of group. The artist was Indian and had a Chinese girlfriend, who had posed nude for many of his paintings. She had a spectacular body and a lovely face.

The meal was fish and chips, as Nigel had predicted, and after an hour, he suggested that they slip away and go out to dinner. They left and he took her to a good French restaurant, and contrary to his earlier warning, he ordered a very good bottle of French wine, and paid for the meal. She suspected that he had exaggerated about being dead broke. He was very aristocratic, had lovely manners, and seemed to know every titled aristocrat around the world. He had been to the Hotel du Cap in the South of France, nearly as often as she had. She was surprised she had never met him there, but they had spent their days there in their private cabana, and rarely met the other guests.

“I’m not sure I could ever go back without them,” she said sadly. “That was so much a part of all my summers with my parents. It would be too weird and painful without them.” He nodded and touched her hand again.

“You’re a brave girl to have gone through what you did for the last year.”

“There’s no other choice. Things happen and you have to deal with them. But it was very hard,” she said. She told him about Sam then and what good friends they were, and how he had been at her side for all of the past year. She didn’t mention Ed, who seemed irrelevant now, and a bad memory. She didn’t want to admit to her own stupidity, falling for the classic line of a married man, about having an understanding with his wife, planning to divorce, and never having felt for any woman what he did for her. It was all so trite and such a cliché, she realized now. At least Nigel was single, thirty-three years old, and had never been married. She wasn’t sure yet if they would be friends, or something more, but she was enjoying his company immensely, and he was so charming, amusing, and boyish that he seemed more like her age than his own. He wasn’t afraid to admit to his fears or feelings, which she found refreshing. There was no hidden agenda with him. He said whatever he thought.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” she asked him over dinner, since he didn’t seem as though he was fully an adult yet.

“Rich and happy,” he answered very quickly. “Rich and miserable seems like such a waste,” he said and she laughed. She didn’t ask him how he intended to become rich, since he claimed to be poor now, although she didn’t quite believe that either. He was expensively dressed, and he lived in a stylish part of town. But he obviously had less than his older brother, due to the British laws of primogeniture, which had existed for centuries.

“What do you want to do?” she asked him directly.

“Have fun. As you’ve seen firsthand, life can be cut short. I think it’s important to live life to the fullest, and enjoy every moment. I can’t bear people who whinge all the time.” She had already learned that “whinge” was the British word for whine, and he didn’t. He constantly seemed to be enthusiastic, look on the bright side, and make everything fun. He never complained, which was refreshing, except about his brother, whom he very obviously disliked. But he appeared to have countless friends, and he was fun to have around. He was apparently a popular houseguest, and she could see why. “What about you?” He turned the question on her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I have to finish college at some point, though I seem to have run out of steam on that. I want to work for a magazine, and I am, even though it’s an entry-level internship. I don’t have a burning desire for a career, but I want to work. I don’t think I’ve found my passion yet, but I still have time, and I haven’t even graduated.”

“Marriage and kids?” he asked, curious about her. She seemed to have a sensible way of looking at life, which he liked.

“Not for a long time,” she answered his question. “My parents married right out of college, at the Elvis Chapel in Las Vegas.” She grinned and he laughed.

“I’ve always wanted to know someone who did that. I love it. How terrific.”

“They eloped. My mother’s family was fancier than my father’s. She was a debutante, etcetera, etcetera, and they didn’t approve of my father, who grew up poor, and they thought he would never amount to anything. So they got married anyway, and he proved them wrong. They were very happy, and getting married early suited them. I’ve never wanted that for myself, and I’m way too young to think about kids. They had me at twenty-five. I can’t even imagine having children three years from now. It would scare me to death. I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility,” she said honestly. But she did have the responsibility of a large inheritance she had to make decisions about. She had people to advise her, but never mentioned any of that to Nigel. She was extremely discreet about her circumstances.

“Some women are so desperate to get married. It’s a bit unnerving. I don’t care when I marry, as long as it’s to the right woman,” he said sensibly, “and I’d like to have children. I just haven’t met the right woman yet. I don’t have to worry about an heir for the title or the estate, since I don’t have either one, which takes the pressure off.” He was totally free and open to the possibilities of what life presented to him, and he was candid about admitting he didn’t like his job. He seemed more interested in his social life and his friends.

He was a very relaxed person without an agenda, which made him easy to be with. She liked him a lot. He was half pal, half flirt, which she liked too. His flirtatious side made her feel like a girl, and his acting like a pal the rest of the time made him good to talk to, though not as good as Sam. But they had no history with each other as she and Sam had. “By the way, there’s a very grand house party next weekend, if you’d like to come. Fabulous house, a castle actually, one of the finest in England. They keep it going with tours of the house and grounds, which is quite awful really, but very lucrative. They give wonderful house parties, and you’ll meet some fun people. Separate bedrooms of course, if you like. I think they have forty guest rooms, so it won’t be a problem. I think you’d enjoy it.” He made it sound so appealing, she couldn’t resist. She had heard of the castle when he told her the name. He seemed to move in only the best circles, and was accepted everywhere. She was touched by his generosity in including her. She told him she was happy to accept, and took him up on the offer of separate bedrooms, since they had just met.