Colette’s blood ran cold at the news. Mamie Winston, an heiress from one of the city’s oldest families, had contributed a fortune to charities over the years, and was an indefatigable fundraiser. And now, because she was financially embarrassed, she was going to be frozen out. Manhattan’s social register was no place for you if your star was on the wane. Old money or no. And if there was no loyalty to the likes of Mamie – a snooty, stick-thin matron who loved to know everyone’s business, and who only entertained Colette because of her reputation in the world of fine art – there would certainly be no loyalty to her and Des. The invitations would dwindle. They would be quietly dropped if they could no longer afford their lifestyle, as though they had never been part of that privileged world. The humiliation would be excruciating. And that she would not endure, Colette decided there and then, as Helena continued to gossip about the amount of family heirlooms that were discreetly coming on the market because of the downturn.
Colette had just said goodbye to her lunch companion and was about to walk with her through the glass-enclosed central court to the entrance when her phone vibrated and she saw Jazzy’s name flash up. ‘Helena, it’s Jazzy. I have to tell her about her dad being in hospital. You go right ahead and I’ll be in touch,’ she said, giving the other woman an air kiss and turning back to reclaim her seat.
‘Give him my best,’ Helena threw over her shoulder, her Manolos click-clacking across the floor of the court.
‘Sweetie, thanks for getting back to me. Where are you?’ Colette placed her bag on the table and sat down.
‘I’m on East 34th and Lex. I was setting up a Facebook and Twitter account for a client. Where are you?’
‘The Morgan.’
‘I could be with you in under ten,’ Jazzy said breezily.
‘Perfect. Would you like me to order you some lunch? I’ve already eaten but I’ll have another coffee.’
‘Mom, you’re the best! I’m starving! What’s on that I would like?’
‘Let’s see, how about the smoked salmon club? The Pierpont salad? White shrimp and creamy polenta?’
‘I’ll have the Pierpont. See you soooooon,’ Jazzy said cheerily.
Thank God her daughter was not living at home and had her own life to lead. The marriage break-up would not be as traumatic for her as it would have been had she still been a child, Colette thought sadly, hating the thought of piercing her daughter’s youthful joie de vivre. Jazzy loved what she was working at; she had a caring, intelligent boyfriend with a very good family pedigree. Scion of an old Bostonian family, he would eventually take over his father’s law firm. An excellent match, Colette had thought with satisfaction when she’d been introduced to Jackson. She had made every effort to let him see that he would be marrying well. And for the first time in her life, Jazzy seemed to be happy and confident. Her teen years had been filled with insecurity about her looks, her weight, her place among her peers, but that phase had thankfully passed. Their daughter was in a good place and now Des had seriously compromised all their futures. She’d let Jazzy enjoy her lunch and then tell her about Des’s heart attack. She would leave out the details of the affair and the Madoff fiasco for the time being. One blow at a time was sufficient.
Colette couldn’t help but be proud when she saw her daughter striding towards her, long blonde hair twisted up loosely on the back of her head, with tendrils falling around her face, emphasizing her high cheekbones and wide blue eyes. She was wearing flared Prada jeans – very bang on trend – Colette noted, remembering the bell-bottom flares of her youth that were now back in fashion, albeit more cutting edge. A preppy navy-plaid D&G jacket, a red woollen scarf wound around her neck and a red Prada bag gave her a fresh, trendy, youthful look that Colette would never be able to carry off any more. Flared jeans would be very mutton dressed as lamb on her, she thought regretfully as she stood up to embrace her daughter. ‘This is a treat, what brings you here?’ Jazzy exclaimed, shrugging out of her jacket and dropping it onto one of the polymer seats.
‘I had a meeting with Helena Dupree about a charity event in the gallery.’ Colette smiled at her and wondered how was it possible that she had a daughter in her twenties.
‘Oh Mom, trust me, this is a lifesaver. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning – Jackson and I slept it out. We were at this really hot new club that’s just opened downtown, called Greenhouse. It’s all about being environmentally aware. It was completely awesome! Hilary would love the lighting. It’s all LED, and so much more ecologically friendly, and the couches, the coasters, everything is made from recycled material. Really cool,’ she exclaimed as the waiter laid her salad before her. She tucked into it enthusiastically, spearing smoked bacon and chicken and Vermont Cheddar onto her fork, and rolling her eyes dramatically as she ate. ‘Yummmmmeeee.’
‘I ordered you a glass of the Pinot Blanc – here it comes.’ Colette laughed at her daughter’s antics.
‘Thanks, Mom, wait until I tell you where Jackson took me at the weekend,’ she prattled on, and it was only when she had placed her knife and fork on the plate and sat back in her chair, replete, that Colette leaned across the table and took her hand.
‘Darling, I wanted you to enjoy your lunch before I told you, but Daddy’s in Lennox Hill. He had a heart attack last night. There was no point in
