Page 121 of Still Me
“Sweetheart, if you wear that to our office day out they’re going to wonder if you’re the entertainment.”
It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t joking. “You don’t like it?”
“Oh. No. You look great. It’s just it’s kind of a bit—drag queeny? We’re an office full of suits. Like, the other wives and girlfriends will be in shift dresses or white pants. It’s just... smart casual?”
“Oh.” I tried not to feel disappointed. “Sorry. I don’t really get US dress codes. Okay. Okay. Wait there. I’ll be right back.”
I took the stairs two at a time and burst into Margot’s apartment, throwing Dean Martin’s lead toward Margot, who had gotten up out of her chair for something and now followed me down the hallway, one thin arm braced against the wall.
“Why are you in such a tearing hurry? You sound like a herd of elephants charging around the apartment.”
“I have to change.”
“Change? Why?”
“I’m not suitable, apparently.” I rattled my way through my wardrobe. Shift dresses? The only clean shift dress I had was the psychedelic one Sam had given me and it felt somehow disloyal to wear that.
“I thought you looked very nice,” said Margot pointedly.
Josh appeared at the open front door, having made his way up behind me. “Oh, she does. She looks great. I just—I just want her to be talked about for the right reasons.” He laughed. Margot didn’t laugh back.
I rifled through my wardrobe, throwing things onto my bed, until I found my navy Gucci-style blazer and a striped silk shirt dress. I threw that over my head and slid my feet into my green Mary Janes.
“How’s that?” I said, as I ran into the hallway, trying to straighten my hair.
“Great!” he said, unable to hide his relief. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“I’ll leave the door unlocked, dear,” I heard Margot mutter as I ran after Josh, who was headed out. “Just in case you want to come back.”
—
The Loeb Boathouse was a beautiful venue, sheltered by its position from the noise and chaos outside Central Park, its vast windows offering a panoramic view of the lake glinting in the afternoon sun. It was packed with smartly dressed men in identikit chinos, women withprofessionally blow-dried hair, and was, as Josh had predicted, a sea of pastels and white trousers.
I took a glass of champagne from a tray being proffered by a waiter and watched quietly while Josh worked the room, glad-handing various men, who all seemed to look the same, with their short, neat haircuts, square jaws, and even white teeth. I had a brief memory of events I had been to with Agnes: I had fallen into my other New York world again, a world away from the vintage clothes stores and mothballed jumpers and cheap coffee I had been immersed in more recently. I took a long sip of my champagne, deciding to embrace it.
Josh appeared beside me. “Quite something, isn’t it?”
“It’s very beautiful.”
“Better than sitting in some old woman’s apartment all afternoon, huh?”
“Well, I don’t think I—”
“My boss is coming. Okay. I’m going to introduce you. Stay with me. Mitchell!”
Josh lifted an arm and the older man walked over slowly, a statuesque brunette woman at his side, her smile oddly blank. Perhaps if you had to be nice to everyone all the time that was what eventually happened to your face.
“Are you enjoying the afternoon?”
“Very much so, sir,” Josh said. “What a truly beautiful setting. May I introduce my girlfriend? This is Louisa Clark, from England. Louisa, this is Mitchell Dumont. He’s head of Mergers and Acquisitions.”
“English, eh?” I felt the man’s huge hand close over mine and shake it emphatically.
“Yes. I—”
“Good. Good.” He turned back to Josh. “So, young man, I hear you’re making quite a splash in your department.”
Josh couldn’t hide his delight. His smile spread across his face. His eyes flickered to me and then to the woman beside me, and I realized he was expecting me to make conversation with her. Nobody had bothered to introduce us. Mitchell Dumont put a paternal arm around Josh’s shoulders and walked him a few feet away.
