Pink Palazzo

Chapter 1

P

enny could almost feel Guillermo’s displeasure coming off him in waves. They were hurrying away from the house, towards Penny’s car, which was barely visible in the driving snow, Guillermo having just wrapped up his photos of the grand New England colonial, and Penny having just interviewed, and apparently thoroughly insulted, the homeowner.

Haven’t I told you a million times to keep your stupid ideas in your head? Guillermo hissed.

Sure, but haven’t about a million women told you to keep your stupid dick in your pants? And you still haven’t learned. Penny retorted.

Guillermo recoiled as if she’d slapped him, which she had, but that had been months ago, back when he accosted her in the accessories closet of House Spectacular. The palm of Penny’s hand had already made contact with Guillermo’s face by the time she’d had time to consider that she was a lowly features writer, while Guillermo’s father happened to own the magazine. But treading lightly was not Penny’s forte. In fact, her grandmother still affectionately called her Bully, after the proverbial bull in the China shop. To make matters worse, upon finding out that Guillermo had also harassed a handful of other interns and employees of House Spectacular, Penny had started a coalition of sorts, effectively blackmailing him into negotiating pay raises and job security for each of his victims. She was pretty sure this wasn’t peak female empowerment, but it was a start. Though his position as photographer at the magazine was all but guaranteed, Guillermo had every intention of keeping his nefarious activities secret, considering he was married to someone far too good for him. His wife, the elegant Samantha Campbell, was a society maven, a preppy goddess with aristocratic good looks. She probably could have done infinitely better for herself, if she hadn't had a savior complex. Penny was convinced that, as a general rule, men like Guillermo were not worth fixing. In fact, were men in general really worth the effort at all? No. That was why Penny didn’t bother with long-term relationships. Historically, none of the women in her family had. And Penny sure loved history.

I didn't say anything incorrect, anyway, Penny protested as she picked her way down the slippery path, cringing as snow entered her boot, and as she realized that she should have just dropped the mic after her awesome comeback.

Oh, come on, said Guillermo. You were rude, and honestly, I’m not very inspired to keep defending you.

Ha. Have you forgotten your motivation already? Penny scoffed. Just tell your father the truth. That I simply told them a historic anecdote. You have to admit, painting over that chimney? It’s a crime!

What's the big deal about painting crappy old bricks?

You've been working at House Spectacular for this long, and you don't know?

Guillermo gave her a mocking look. But he took the bait.

Know what?

Bedford village was burnt down in 1779, by the English, said Penny.

But the plaque on this house says 1778.

Exactly. It was spared. Because it had a Tory chimney.

A what?

British loyalists painted their chimneys white with a black band, a kind of secret signal.

So their houses were spared?

Yeah.

So the original owner of this house was a Tory?

Not at all. But when Captain Jameson, who had built this house, let his wife Agnes know of rumors that the English were coming, she and a housemaid painted the chimney under the cover of night, while the captain and his friends gathered in a public house, strategizing.

That's pretty ballsy, Guillermo admitted. What happened?

Well, the English came through, before Jameson and his cronies could mount any kind of plan. Their home was saved, along with their whole family, including three young children. Most of their neighbors found themselves with their lives reduced to piles of smoking rubble.

Wow, the captain must have been thankful to his wife, said Guillermo.

On the contrary.

What?

He blamed Agnes for making him lose face, and he ended up divorcing her, banishing her, and taking the children.

That's horrible, said Guillermo.

History isn't always pretty, said Penny.

True, Guillermo agreed, Which is why I don't know why you're so hell bent on preserving it no matter what. People are allowed to restore their home in a way that's not historically accurate. It's their choice.

You can't just plaster over things and make them disappear, said Penny. Do that, and we repeat the same errors that were made in the past.

That's great. But we work for a decor magazine. So, you'll do much better if you try to be sweet to our advertisers, and to the people we're trying to feature. We need wealthy people’s support to keep the publication going. People talk. The upper echelons of society are a tight knit club.

You think I don't know that?

Oh yes, I forgot. You're a spoiled rich girl.

Hardly, said Penny, struggling to unlock her car door- her vehicle was so old, it still had a manual key. If she was so spoiled, why did she have such a clunker?

We all know you have a massive trust fund coming to you, Penny. I don't even know why you need this job.

Got to love the gossip mill. But need this job, she did. And since this job paid poorly, she also taught etiquette to undeserving Upper East Side brats, many of whom were beyond help. And she helped Mrs. Parker, an old friend of Grandmama’s, with her cotillion classes.

She thought, as she often did, of her grandmother. What was she up to right now? It had been over two long years, with COVID and uninterrupted cold winters in New York, since they’d seen each other in person. Penny and her grandmother had always been close. She'd been raised by her, had grown up with her, until she’d gone to boarding school. She didn’t know why she had even moved to New York. Because every time she returned to Palm Beach to visit her grandmother, it was as if she was being welcomed back into paradise. Even now, as she settled into her chilly car seat and looked up at the leaden winter sky through her frozen windshield, she imagined she could feel the balmy air on her skin. She could almost taste that first glass of sweet orange juice Uncle Lawrence would always give her as she arrived at Grandmama’s pink palace on Lake Worth, after a long time away. Fresh squeezed orange juice always tasted like home.

Hey, are you even listening to me? Guillermo asked. She hadn’t even noticed him getting into the car. Crap. She’d forgotten that Ben, the assistant he had carpooled with, had been dismissed earlier in the day, and that and that she would now have to put up with him the whole way back into the city.

I was saying, said Guillermo, you probably don't even need this job. I don't know why you're trying to hold on to it so badly.

Actually, Penny had been actively hoping that she soon wouldn't need it. She had done an audition for that show she loved to hate watch, This Old Mansion, which was the television version, essentially, of the magazine. She was in the running for the role of on-screen historical expert, a sort of sidekick to the host of the show, an elegant woman named Sarah. Unfortunately, Sarah’s first instinct was to modernize every home she came across. During the audition, Penny had engaged in comical banter with Sarah, which she knew would make for great TV, and win over the producers. The prospect of being on television was far more glamorous than laboring for the stodgy old magazine, and it would pay more, to boot. Yes, she had a trust fund coming to her, but that would only kick in after her grandmother’s death, which she hoped would be a long way away. In fact, she was looking forward to throwing a massive 97th birthday party for Grandmama in just a few months. In just a couple weeks, she was going to Palm Beach to organize the last details and catch up with Grandmama. It would be lovely to have her all to herself for a bit. It would be lovely to be home.

Her windshield had barely started defrosting, and she had just put the car into drive, when her phone buzzed and jangled in her pocket. She put the brakes back on and fumbled for it.

Do you need to get that? asked Guillermo. The damn thing’s been going off all day. You should put it on silent while you're working a job. God. The roads are probably getting worse and worse.

Yeah, sorry, said Penny absentmindedly, as she looked at the screen of her phone. In addition to about ten missed calls, she saw that the current call coming in was from a number that could conceivably be the production studio for the show.

Her heart began to hammer in her chest.

Sorry, Guillermo, I do have to take this.

Chapter 2

S

he didn’t wait for a response, and let herself out of the car, slamming the door and cutting off his protests. Once back outside, in the driving snow, she tapped the green button with her thumb and lifted the phone to her ear.

Hello? she said, cupping her hand around the phone to block out the worst of the rushing wind, and taking a few steps from the car, trying in vain to shelter under the bare branches of one of the property’s specimen trees.

Yes, hi, this is Fiona from This Old Mansion.

Yes? said Penny. Her voice had come out almost in a yelp. This was it. This was the beginning of her real life, her real career.

Yes, I was just calling to say that the producers decided you were not a good fit for the show. Sorry about that. Have a...

Wait, Penny said desperately. What do you mean I wasn't a good fit? What did they say? I thought it went really well...

You thought it went really well? The woman scoffed, in a pretentious tone.

What the hell? Was she mimicking her? How rude. Penny remembered this Fiona character now. A red headed woman with a strict bob haircut, sitting on a stool in the corner. Wrinkling her nose every few moments, looking at Penny disdainfully. Penny didn't know what her problem was. It wasn't like Penny was instantly intimidating or unlikable or anything like that. She was on the pretty end of ordinary, with big brown eyes and naturally blonde but annoyingly frizzy hair. The men she’d been with had praised her slim but curvy figure and her pillowy lips, but she didn't really care about their opinion, because just like all the other women in her family, Penny didn't need or plan to have a partner in her life. Whatever she needed physically, she could get it and then leave it.

So, sorry, can you tell me what exactly they didn't like? said Penny. I mean, I kind of think I deserve the feedback.

Yikes. She did sound a little spoiled then. But she couldn't help how she acted and spoke. She'd been sent to Miss Porter's, for heaven's sake. A goddamn finishing school, for all intents and purposes. And she'd hung out with a bunch of old socialites and antiques dealers in Palm Beach her whole life. So, of course, some of that had rubbed off.

Question: You thought it was okay to get into an argument with your co-host? asked Fiona.

I thought it made for good TV, Penny said weakly.

In what world ...?

Anyway... It wasn't an argument, said Penny. It was more like banter.

Banter, my ass, said Fiona. You insulted her design sense, her historical knowledge, and her upbringing in one fell swoop. I mean, seriously, what the hell? At first, we thought you were joking. But then, we realized you’re delusional. You've really got to learn that your way is not the only way.

Penny winced. This was the second time she'd heard this message in about five minutes. If things kept going this way, she was going to end up believing it.

Okay, she said, shame burning in her cheeks. I get it, it's fine. Thank you for calling me back and letting me know.

Penny was nothing if not polite, after all. This is what made her such a good etiquette coach for intractable children.

Have a fabulous day, Fiona responded, and hung up on her.

Damn it, Penny growled under her breath.

She looked over to the car. Guillermo was gesticulating at her, pointing at his watch and pointing at the sky.

Yes, the snow had accelerated, and it had gotten even colder out, but the burning flush of embarrassment had kept her from feeling the icy pinpricks that now snuck their way up her sleeves and down her neck. She hoped the road back to New York would not be too treacherous. She would hate to have a car accident she couldn't afford, or even worse, be stuck staying in some second-rate motel with Guillermo. Besides, she needed to be back for her lesson with little Toby, and for cotillion later that evening.

She was about to open the car door when the phone buzzed again. This time, a text, from Toby's mother.

Can you be here in half an hour? Toby has a trumpet lesson at the time of his usual etiquette lesson.

Penny sighed. There was no way she would make it back to New York in half an hour. And no reason for Toby's mother to think that she should be expected to, except for her own entitlement. She glanced at Guillermo through the windshield and made a gesture which she hoped would communicate that that she had no choice but to make another phone call.

Hi, Mrs. Hillsworth, said Penny.

What's wrong with text? Toby’s mother responded. Penny could see the insufferable woman in her mind’s eye, her skinny face contorted in a disbelieving moue, picking strands of her flat-ironed hair off of glossy, overinflated lips.

Unfortunately, I can't be there in half an hour. I'm out of town right now. And I didn't know Toby was doing trumpet.

Well, he decided he was interested this morning, and I managed to squeeze it in, said Mrs. Hillsworth. Are you in a tunnel?

You didn't really manage to squeeze it in if you had to bump my lesson time for it, thought Penny, but she decided not to say anything about that.

I'm sorry I can't make it an hour early at the last minute, said Penny, but I understand if he can't make it today. Trumpet is pretty exciting, and musical instruments are wonderful for a young boy of his age to learn.

What about his etiquette lesson?

I’ll see him next week. If you need to modify his schedule in the future, we will try to make it work. And I'm sorry, I will have to charge you for the lesson today.

Charge me? Mrs. Hillsworth exclaimed. But he's not doing the lesson. Why would I pay for it?

Because I set aside the time, Mrs. Hillsworth. Because I could have taken on another client, and now it's too late, said Penny.

You’re being very unreasonable, said Mrs. Hillsworth. And in fact, I think Toby has learned quite enough from you. I think trumpet will be better for him.

Great, said Penny. Well, Let me know if you change your mind.

She hung up. She hoped this woman wouldn't change her mind, but she didn't have enough etiquette clients to pay the bills without having to depend on the magazine, which was a tenuous position, despite her blackmail. And now, of course, the TV show was not going to happen. Her occasional appointments as a historical expert for Hollywood films had dried up- she’d had one too many arguments about the correct portrayal of history with movie directors and producers for her to be asked back. Her YouTube channel, on which she talked about historic homes and history, had a loyal following, but not the type of numbers that would permit her to monetize yet. And she’d been working on a historical romance novel but had writer’s block. She needed to figure something else out. Not only was she living hand to mouth, essentially, but she didn't want it to look like she'd just been waiting for her trust fund to come through. Though she would be a wealthy woman one day, she hated the optics of being the one who'd been waiting, doing nothing. And more than hating the optics, she hated the idea of it. She had lots of passions and loads of interests, but somehow, she never really accumulated the right skills to do something where she would earn a lot of money. She just didn't know how. She hadn't been raised that way. She liked to tell herself that she lived a rich life, nevertheless, but that wasn't completely true. This was why she was so very excited to be returning to Palm Beach next month. Palm Beach meant home, and it meant family: Grandmama, Grandmama’s factotum, a sweet man she called Uncle Lawrence, and her best friend, Ella, who happened to be Lawrence’s granddaughter.

A violent rapping on the car’s windshield snapped her out of her reverie. Guillermo was gesturing at her, livid. She slipped into the car and slammed the door, shaking off the snow and eliciting a yelp from Guillermo.

Listen, I get it that you have nowhere else to be, he seethed, but some of us have a life we need to get back to.

I was having an emergency.

Have your emergency later, said Guillermo.

Wow, what a charmer. Samantha’s a lucky woman, said Penny as she started the car.

Guillermo held up his phone.

It says here we should take the 22.

No, said Penny. That gets icy. I'm going to take the Merritt Parkway.

You’re familiar with this area, Guillermo observed.

I came here a lot with friends while I was at school.

Let me guess. Yale?

Crap. Penny knew that Guillermo had a chip on his shoulder over his own self-perceived lack of breeding and education. Being married to his glamorous well-heeled wife probably didn't help matters at all. Penny couldn't help it if the guy had a complex. She couldn't help who she'd been born to, or where she'd lived, any more than he could. And if you looked at how each of them was doing today, he certainly had nothing to envy in poor Penny. He lived in a gorgeous brownstone on the Upper West Side, while Penny lived in a walk up one bedroom on the Upper East, a one-time maid’s room rented to her by Mrs. Parker. It was rent-controlled, but still almost more than she could handle financially. Still, she'd made the place beautiful, with hand me downs from Grandmama, old mirrors, porcelain, and artworks from local consignment shops, and tons of candles she bought at the discount store.

She knew she had good taste, and that she’d made the place look fantastic for what it was, but it was shabby and pathetic compared to what she’d grown up in, or compared to Guillermo’s home, or to Ella's house, a modern mansion facing Lake Worth in West Palm. Ella was a successful commercial real estate broker, and Penny couldn't be prouder of her. Though, it did beg the question of why these two childhood best friends had grown up to be so completely different when it came to financial matters and lifestyle. Ella was happily married, with two adorable children that Penny considered to be something like a niece and nephew. After all, she called Ella's grandfather, Lawrence, Uncle Lawrence, because he and Grandmama had always been so close. In fact, there had been salacious rumors as to the nature of their relationship. Grandmama had been so livid about them that she had cut off contact with about half of Palm Beach society at one point. And that was after she had given up her membership at the Everglades Club. Surely Grandmama had her own reasons, but Penny still regretted the fact that Grandmama’s actions meant that she herself rarely made her way behind the storied walls of the Everglades Club. She had heard so many romantic stories about ladies’ teas, and golfing, and languishing by the pool, and would have loved that life for herself. Depending on the cost, perhaps she would reinstate her membership once the trust fund came through.

She shuddered. She really did need to stop thinking that way.

Pay attention to the road, said Guillermo. What the hell is wrong with you today?

Nothing. said Penny. I've driven these roads my whole life.

But then, she clenched her jaw as she almost skidded on a patch of black ice. Crap, the roads were getting worse. Maybe it was a good thing that she didn't need to hurry to the etiquette lesson. As it was, she would barely make it to the cotillion class.

Guillermo was texting, and she could see a scowl on his face.

What about you? Everything okay? she asked him.

Meh. The cousins are trying to use the mountain house next month, but it’s ski week, Guillermo said.

Ski week?

Oh, that's right, you don't have kids. It’s winter break in February, when everyone goes skiing.

Oh, everyone, huh? Who's entitled now? said Penny. I guess that going skiing in Aspen or Vail or maybe Stowe is a God given right over Ski Week? It must be hell on the slopes.

Penny didn't dislike children but considering that she was pretty sure she would never have any of her own, something she was a little bit conflicted about, if she really admitted it to herself, she liked steering clear of kids when she could.

It is an absolute nightmare, Guillermo admitted. I take it you’ll do the smart thing and stay put in town?

I’m going to... she hesitated. To Florida.

Oh, Miami? asked Guillermo.

Palm Beach, said Penny, instantly regretting it.

Of course. Why did I even ask?

To see my grandmother, Penny specified.

Oh, said Guillermo, slightly mollified.

He was, after all, a family man, even if he was a terrible person.

God, this weather just keeps getting worse, Guillermo observed.

No kidding, said Penny.

I can't wait to get home and sit in front of the fire.

Penny said nothing. Her apartment was not what she considered her real home. And she had neither a fireplace, nor was she going to have the benefit of staying in. She was already dreading the long nine-block walk to the cotillion class. In the spring or summer, it was a delightful little stroll, but in winter weather, it felt unending. Not to mention, she was hungry. Starving, really. Thinking that made her break into a small smile. Ella always chided her when she used the term starving.

You’re not actually starving, Ella would say.

But it sure feels that way, was Penny’s stock response.

And right now, it really did feel that way. She hadn't had lunch. And now that she was going to get home so late, stuck in this slow stream of traffic, she would barely have time to eat something before class. She tried to remember whether she had used the box of pasta in her pantry, or if she still had a can of soup or something. She might have a yogurt in the fridge. She wasn't one to keep a huge stock of food, because she never knew where she would be. She tended to say yes to every possible opportunity to make money. Not only because she needed the cash, but also because she simply was bad at saying no.

Is it as slippery as it looks? Guillermo asked.

Slipperier, said Penny, clenching the steering wheel harder. We'll be fine. I hope.

Her phone buzzed again. Another incoming call. She ignored it. This was crazy. She regularly got spam from Palm Beach because she still had a Palm Beach number. But today had been a particularly heavy day, with more calls coming in than usual. She needed to call Ella, she reminded herself, to plan their upcoming joint birthday celebration, a lunch at Swifty's at the Colony Palms. Penny had not been back there since it had been redesigned by Celerie Kemble. She was looking forward to seeing the preppy pink and green magnificence with her own eyes. But really, she was most looking forward to seeing Grandmama. She could see her grandmother’s mischievous smile and white curls in her mind's eye now, and also the fluorescent green expanse of lawn in back of her house, the brilliant turquoise blue of the swimming pool, and the slate blue of Lake Worth beyond that. Swaying palm trees, pink walls, and a glossy wood gondola bobbing on the water completed the tropical Venetian fantasy that was Grandmama’s house, Palazzo Leoni.

Her phone buzzed again, bringing her back to reality. Out of force of habit, she took it out of the cupholder.

Eyes on the road, said Guillermo.

Can you just tell me who's calling?

Maybe Mrs. Powell was canceling cotillion class because of the inclement weather. That would be wonderful. Penny really needed a rest. She needed to have a good cry, have a good cup of soup, and then go to sleep and not wake up until at least 9 o'clock the next morning.

It says E, said Guillermo. Your boyfriend?

No, E is short for Ella, said Penny.

She clenched her teeth. She didn't want to tell Guillermo more. Didn't want to have to share any details about her deep, lifelong friendship with Ella, which was more akin to sisterhood, with this guy, who belonged to a version of her life that she barely wanted to be in anymore. How she would prefer a life like Ella’s. Not that she envied the husband and the kids, who were actually adorable, if she was honest with herself, but it was more the idea living in gorgeous Palm Beach year-round, looking out from floor-to-ceiling office windows onto the water and the palm-fringed skyline.

Maybe once the trust fund kicked in... again, she shook herself and reminded herself that she didn't want that. Not soon, at least. A life without the only family she had left was no life she wanted to consider. Palazzo Leoni wouldn’t feel like home without the formidable mistress of the house.

She’s calling again. Want me to pick it up and hold it up for you? asked Guillermo.

No, it's okay, said Penny. I'll call her back.

She didn't want Guillermo listening in on any personal conversations.

They finally made it back to the city, the traffic slowing to a crawl.

Are you okay dropping me off at 82nd and Broadway? asked Guillermo.

Sure, said Penny, surreptitiously checking her watch. This meant she had almost no time at all to get home, change, and run back out. Her stomach growled.

Chapter 3

A

fter she’d dropped off Guillermo, Penny went back to daydreaming as traffic crept across town.

Not counting their constant texting, she and Ella had last spoken a few weeks before. With their big birthdays, their thirtieth, coming the next month, Penny had been delighted to pull the trigger on a gift she just knew would thrill her best friend to no end: a DNA kit. Ella had always bemoaned the fact that she didn’t know much about her own origins. Things on her father's side were clear enough, since he was of mostly English and Dutch stock. But on her mother's side, the family tree grew nebulous. On her mother’s side, Lawrence’s side, ancestors had originated from the vast continent of Africa. Any further details had been lost to the ocean waves. There was of course some whispered family lore, but none of it could be taken as fact.

Imagine if I find out I'm related to African royalty, Ella was