On Monday, after ignoring a call and voice mail from Sag Neck—there was no one she wanted to talk to less than her parents right now—she met Camilla for lunch at Café Sabarsky to get assurances that losing her job would be fine. Camilla was certain: this was the best thing that could’ve happened, and everything would work out. “Darling,” Camilla said, “you can now focus on real life. You wanted to get more involved in charity work, and now you actually will, rather than spending time on that dreadful commute. You’ll absolutely love it. And you’ll finally be available for me during the day.” Camilla gave her that life-is-golden smile, and Evelyn felt instantly better. Camilla was right. There were the bills, of course, but her paltry paycheck barely made a difference in those anyway. She had a tiny bit in her 401(k) that she could use until something, someone, stepped in to give her the life she deserved. Camilla never paid for anything, and Evelyn was almost at that level. Scot could take care of dinners and things like that for now, and if all else failed, she could always marry him, or marry well, in any case.
She would have time now to start focusing on benefit committees, like Camilla said, and going to the gym more regularly. She could get more involved in the Bal, too, as the midday planning meetings would be easy to attend. All those Manhattan things that were impossible with a job were now possible. She thought of the embarrassment of having to call her dermatologist from work while Clarence snuffled next to her and overheard all about her occasional eczema flare-ups. How the dry cleaner was always closed when she came home, and how the tiles in her bathroom walls had started coming off weeks ago, but because she had to be at work when the super was available, she didn’t have time to handle any of it. She’d meant to learn to cook, but those classes all started at five, and she wanted to study Italian, but the classes were only Tuesdays and Thursdays midday. There was simply no way to work and do everything else she was supposed to do. Like Camilla always said, it was all for the best and it would all work out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Scottish Fling
Day four of not working, and it was second nature. Evelyn had woken when she wanted to, when the sun in her window gently nudged her awake rather than her insistent alarm, and gone to a late-morning Equinox yoga class, then strolled in the park and looked at the cherry blossom buds before returning home to shower, change, and head out for the hair appointment that she had been able to book just the night before because her time was now so flexible.
Afterward, she stopped for tea and a macaron at Payard, settled into a seat under the amber chandelier, and pulled out her phone. There was another voice mail from her parents, but she didn’t listen to it. She switched to the text-message function. She’d been putting it off, but she was seeing Scot tonight and texting seemed easier than a real conversation. She tapped out, “Guess what?” then erased it, then tried, “So update,” before deleting and writing, and finally sending, “I have big news…”
Scot’s response came seconds later: “?”
“Will tell u tnt,” Evelyn replied.
“Wd like 2 know now.”
Evelyn typed out, “So I was let go,” then, “So I was fired,” and finally settled on, “PLU had layoffs. Me. DONT worry. For the best.”
“You were fired? RU okay?”
“Laid off. Y. Is good.”
“What will u do?”
Evelyn took a tiny bite of chocolate macaron, the gold leaf melting on her tongue. Not knowing how to answer, she decided to pretend like she hadn’t seen the question.
“See u Sothebys tnt?” she wrote.
“U ok?”
“Great. Bye!”
*
For once, Evelyn didn’t care that she would have to arrive solo to the event, a Scottish Society fund-raiser at Sotheby’s where she and Camilla were walking in a runway show. She could go from home, rested and refreshed, in an unwrinkled dress, with newly applied makeup. She was finally on equal footing with all the other girls.
When she walked into the benefit through a phalanx of bagpipers, she immediately spotted Preston, who looked like he was already several drinks in, gazing at a fern. “I need steak,” he groaned when Evelyn approached. Evelyn wondered briefly if she should be worried, given Charlotte’s concern about his drinking; she’d meant to observe him at her birthday party but had gotten totally sidelined.
“Darling P,” she said. “You made it.”
“Darling E,” he replied. “The newly minted twenty-seven-year-old. I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday dinner.”
“Wasn’t it the most fun? Bridie Harley’s toast was just amazing, wasn’t it?”
“Something like that,” Preston said, pushing up his glasses.
“I was so honored that she took the time to come. She had a Central Park Conservancy dinner that night and she still stopped by my party.”
“I’m glad her priorities are in the right place,” Preston said.
“I couldn’t believe that Camilla got the Colony to do a tropical theme. Didn’t you love the palm trees?”
“A bit of Polynesia in this drear season. ‘Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote.’”
“‘The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote.’ Have I really not seen you since then?”
“Well, my dear, whenever I try to set up a dinner with you, we end up at a large-group outing,” he said.
“Yet the Scottish Society could lure you?”
“I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to not wear anything under my kilt,” he said. He was wearing a suit.
“I’m glad I got you alone, actually.”
“Well, well, well. Aren’t we a forward little thing.” He bared his teeth at her.
“You look like an angry wolf when you do that.”