The Perfect Happiness(48)

“What else did you forget to tell me, Angelica?” Candace looked at her sternly. “Are you seeing him?”

“No!”

“It was just lunch?”

“Yes. I told you, it was just lunch. I’m sad, that’s all. Life is a little less bright without his e-mails to keep me going—and I really liked him.”

“It’s for the best, though, Angelica. You have a nice life.” Candace was now satisfied. “You’ll get over him.”

“Of course. But I can’t tell you how much I’d like to see him again.” That, at least, was true.





12



You can’t control what happens to you in your life but you can control how you react.

In Search of the Perfect Happiness



Angelica took the children for a playdate at Letizia’s house. She sat in the airy green sitting room drinking tea with her friend while the children played upstairs. Letizia looked glamorous in a pair of gray flannel trousers and a dove-gray cashmere top, a few inches taller thanks to Tod’s pumps.

“I love the idea of the manny,” she told Angelica, playing with the array of Van Cleef gold necklaces that hung down to her navel. “I mean, Maria is a nightmare! She’s got to go. I cannot cope with that sour face at the breakfast table every morning, and I know she thinks I’m a tyrant.”

“You are a tyrant, Letizia,” said Angelica with a grin. “But it’s not her place to judge you. You pay her to do a job; she should at least do it with a smile.”

“I’ve spoiled her, darling; that’s the trouble. At the beginning I gave her every goodie bag from every party I went to, and I bought her a really generous birthday present from Links. Now she thinks I owe her a living.”

“They all have a sell-by date.”

“Well, she’s well past hers; she’s beginning to smell!” She waved a hand under her nose. “Schifosa! I feel unwelcome in my own home.”

“See what this manny of Scarlet’s is like. If you like him and Scarlet’s not employing him over Christmas, take him skiing with you.”

“It’s such a great idea, especially for Alessandro. He’s too old to have a nanny now, but a boy who can teach him football sounds ideal.”

Angelica’s mobile rang with a message. She knew instinctively that it was from Jack. While Letizia continued talking, she pulled it out and read: I’m pining for you, Sage. When can I call you? DWOP She bit her bottom lip, wondering what DWOP stood for. Letizia didn’t notice the color in her cheeks. “And what about Kate’s wedding?” Letizia continued. “I’m so excited. It’s wonderful that they’re patching it up. Although I wouldn’t trust Pete as far as I could throw him. I mean, it’s shocking. He’s married to one of the loveliest girls in London, and he has to skulk around having affairs. It’s disgusting and disrespectful.”

Angelica wanted to repeat what Olivier had said: that in spite of Kate’s beauty, she was neurotic and flaky and probably very hard to live with. But she held her tongue. Letizia was fiercely loyal about her friends. The only one with whom Angelica could really speak her mind was Candace.

“Let’s hope that’s all over,” she said instead.

“Do leopards change their spots?”

“Some do.”

“I’m not sure Pete’s one of those. Still, it will be a great wedding. We’re all going to stay in the Saint Géran . . .”

“. . . and waft about in white linen.”

“Yes.” She laughed. “With shells in our hair! Madonna!”

When she got home, Angelica perched on the loo seat while the children played in the bath. She read his text again, ignoring Joe, who threw one of his big dinosaurs to the bath mat with a loud clunk. She tapped in her reply: Don’t pine. I hate to think of you sad. Call me at 8, if you like. X Sage. Another dinosaur landed on the mat, covered in foam. “Do you want to watch TV before bed?” she snapped.

“Yes, but . . .”

“No buts, Joe. Stop throwing things out of the bath, or you’ll go straight to bed.” She knelt down to wash their hair, now on a mission to get them both into bed by eight.

Joe got to watch Scooby-Doo. Isabel sat at her pink dressing table while Angelica dried her long brown hair. She opened her drawer and played with the tray of makeup she had collected from her mother’s old lipsticks and eye shadows. Angelica watched her daughter’s reflection fondly, determined that she would never do anything to jeopardize her secure little world.

At last they were in bed. She had read them a couple of chapters of Despereaux, which she had enjoyed almost more than they did, then lovingly kissed their foreheads. A Full Joe from her son had completed the bedtime ritual before she had turned off their lights. With a sigh of relief she walked back into her bedroom and lay on the bed, her mobile in hand, awaiting his call.