She had lunch with Scarlet at Le Caprice, then picked up the children at three-thirty. They walked through the park, feeding the geese on the Round Pond. She sat on a bench while the children played with the birds, considering her life and the fork in the road that lay ahead of her. She didn’t want to leave Olivier; in spite of his moodiness she loved him. But Jack had injected her life with excitement and given her a high from which she was reluctant to come down.
The children grew tired and hungry. They walked back past Kensington Palace, Joe bending down to pat every dog, Isabel hanging off the railings like a parrot. Sunny gave them tea. Angelica supervised their homework at the dining room table. Everything was the same as always, except in her head, where everything was different.
She dressed for dinner, choosing a vintage midnight-blue dress Olivier had bought her in Paris the first year of their marriage. She had always loved that dress, but it was only since losing weight that she was able to wear it. Olivier threw a shadow across the room. He stood in the doorway, watching her. Without asking he turned up the lights and wandered in, taking off his jacket. “So you’re going out.”
“Yes, to Kate’s party for Art.”
“Oh yes, I forgot.” He ran his eyes up and down her body. “You look très jolie.” He pulled a face. “Shame you’re going out. I’d like to take that dress off.”
“No time, I’m afraid,” she said, slipping past him.
“You smell nice, too.”
“Oranges.”
“Nice.” He looked at her longingly and a little lost.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t be too long.”
“Why, are you going to miss me?” She hadn’t meant to sound so sharp.
“Of course. I like your company.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not still angry with me for last night?”
“Of course not.”
“I haven’t seen you for ages.”
“You saw me last night.”
“That doesn’t count. We should spend more time together.”
“Sure.” She grabbed her evening bag and tossed her hair.
“I’m sad that you look so ravishing, but not for me.”
“It’s not my fault you’re not coming. You still can.”
He dithered, and for a terrible moment she thought he might change his mind and go with her. “No, I’m tired. Just don’t be too long.”
“It’ll go on all night, Olivier. You know what Kate’s karaoke evenings are like.”
“Karaoke! I’m definitely not coming to hear a bunch of Hoorays singing out of tune to YMCA!” He laughed unhappily. “Let’s go out for dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us.”
“No, let’s stay in. I’ll be tired.”
“I thought you might like a night out, just us.”
“I would, but not tomorrow.”
He threw himself onto the bed, crossing his feet. “What’s for supper?”
• • •
Angelica arrived at Kate’s just as Scarlet and William were ringing the doorbell.
“Where’s Olivier?” William asked.
“Not coming. Hates karaoke.”
“Well, that makes two of us. That’s the point where I think I’ll leave you all to it,” he added.
“And when the party will really get going.” Scarlet giggled as William nudged her playfully.
Inside, the guests waited in the sitting room for Art and Tod to arrive. The effect of all those silver balloons was magical. Candles covered every surface and were reflected in the big ornate mirrors that hung above the mantelpieces. Waiters weaved through the throng with trays of champagne and cocktails. Angelica took a glass of champagne and found Candace talking to Letizia and Kate. All the husbands were there except Olivier, but Angelica wasn’t in the least bit upset. All she could think about was eleven o’clock.
At last the couple arrived. Tod flung open the door and Art’s face was a picture of astonishment and pleasure. He swept his eyes over the faces of his friends and settled finally onto Kate’s. “You naughty girl!” he said, throwing his arms around her small frame and lifting her off the ground. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” he breathed into her ear.
“Happy birthday!” she exclaimed, raising her glass, and everyone in the room raised theirs.
“Let the party begin!” Tod shouted, and, as if by magic, the lights were turned up and music resounded through the rooms.
13
Live in the present because it’s all there is.
In Search of the Perfect Happiness
“Angelica, darling, you look peachy,” said Art, towering over her. At six feet four he was handsome in an aristocratic, chiseled way, with intelligent gray eyes and glossy brown hair that flopped over his face.