Lies and Weddings(34)
“I don’t think that’s true…”
“It is, and it’s fine. I needed to have this revelation myself before I could come to my senses. The only thing that bothers me is that my sister’s right, yet again.”
“What is your sister right about?”
“She’s been telling me to forget about Solène since the beginning. She said: ‘That girl clearly does not eat, and any girl who doesn’t eat is going to be a bitch because she’s hungry. You need to meet a nice Persian girl who enjoys good food as much as you do.’?”
“I hate to say this, but I think your sister’s right.”
“About which part? Solène being a bitch or me marrying a nice Persian girl?”
“Both,” Eden replied as they both laughed heartily.
Fifty yards away in Solène’s suite, Rufus was having his own revelation as he sat in the club chair beside Solène’s bed, where he had the perfect bird’s-eye view of Freddy and Eden at their table by the pool. Solène lay in her bed talking animatedly, but Rufus had long ceased to listen to her. He kept looking out the window, where he could see Freddy clinking cocktail glasses with Eden. He could see Freddy and Eden laughing together at something. He could see Freddy lean across the table and take Eden’s hand. He could see them get up from the table and leave together. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t like what he was seeing, or what he imagined might happen next.
XI
The Milo Suite
FOUR SEASONS RESORT HUALALAI ? THAT AFTERNOON
Freddy drove Eden back to her hotel, and she returned to her suite to discover that some American fashion magazine had commandeered it for a live-stream video shoot of Bea and Augie getting ready for the wedding. The door adjoining their suites had been unlocked, and an entire battalion of stylists, photo assistants, and various technicians were camped out in the living room and on the verandah.
Eden peeked into Bea’s room, where she sat in her makeup chair while two hairstylists were wrestling with her updo. “Eden, I’m soooo knackered. I just got back from my beach shoot, and now I have to do this Instagram Live and another shoot before the ceremony. I’m so jealous you got to go to the beach! How’s Solène? Did she really break her foot?”
“It’s just a sprain. She’s convalescing in her room very happily…with Rufus.”
“Shit, she works fast,” Bea said excitedly.
“She’s a force of nature indeed.”
There was a knock on the door as Josh the water sports director entered with a fresh chilled coconut with a straw sticking out the top. “Thought you could use a good refresher after that last shoot in the hot sun.”
“Thanks, luv. So thoughtful of you,” Bea said gratefully as she chugged the coconut water. Josh (Immaculate Conception/Mount Vernon High/Whitman/Middlebury) lingered in the room, eyeing Eden as though he wished she weren’t there.
Eden protectively looked at Bea in the mirror. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, I’m fine. You should go get ready.”
Eden got the hint. “Okay. Have fun on your live stream.”
She left Bea with her fanboy and entered her bedroom to find a thirtysomething woman sprawled out on the bed barking into her phone: “The shoes never arrived, and neither did the tiaras, so we switched the concept and Matthias was going to shoot Lady Beatrice jumping on the bed barefoot in the Balenciaga. But then the little bitch said, ‘I don’t wear Balenciaga.’ This means we’re going to put her in the Chanel that the bride was supposed to wear. My life is fucked. How am I going to explain to Anna that—”
“Oh, hello,” Eden said.
The woman looked up. “Still no sign of coffee?”
“I’m sorry?”
“My iced latte with oat milk? Where is it?”
“I think you’re mistaking me for—”
“I don’t fucking care, I just want my latte. How many times do I have to ask?”
Eden’s eyes widened and she put on her calming doctor’s voice, the one she used on fussy children. “Let’s see…why don’t we call room service and see if they can get this sorted for you?”
The woman suddenly looked confused. “Who are you?”
Just then, a Hawaiian woman distinctly outfitted in the hotel’s signature uniform entered the room with iced coffee on a tray. “Here you go, ma’am. Iced latte with oat milk.”
The woman turned beet red, realizing the enormity of her faux pas. “I’m so sorry, I’m the fashion editor for this shoot, and I thought this was Lady Beatrice’s room.”
“It’s fine. Lady Beatrice is next door; I’m Dr. Eden Tong, her best friend, and I need to get changed for the wedding myself.”
“Of course you do,” the fashion editor said, taking her coffee and leaving the bedroom without another word.
The hotel staffer winked at Eden. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Eden replied as something began to dawn on her. Since arriving on the Big Island, she had on two separate occasions now been mistaken for being, to put it bluntly, a hotel maid. Was it a coincidence that in each instance, it had been a particular type of woman who had made the assumption about her? Until this trip, she had never spent much time in a place where most of the staff at every resort consisted of people with a similar skin tone to hers. She could pass for Hawaiian, or Chinese, or Filipino, and to some of these privileged, oblivious tourists, she was just another interchangeable Asian staffer who would bring them their drinks.