Excerpt
from The Misadventures of Oliver Booth: Life in the Lap of Luxury
by David Desmond
The Afternoon Tea
At the Morningwood Club, the afternoon tea of the Dowagers in Paradise, an exclusive social group that included only the wealthiest divorcées, was drawing to a close. As they rose to leave, the DIPs, as they were known by the club staff -- and, actually, everyone in Palm Beach -- were slightly unsteady on their feet due to their having spontaneously added six bottles of Pinot Grigio to their high tea menu. Despite the heat, the postprandial letdown, and their apparent instability, however, these women never appeared less than fully alert, much like meerkats on the African veld, owing to repeated but decreasingly successful cosmetic procedures involving their faces and necks. The DIPs were far beyond the age at which Botox could even be considered, and each woman was nearing the point at which nothing short of a face transplant would be able to improve her appearance.The denouements of these teas were always tense because each of the women wanted to demonstrate her fiscal superiority by picking up the check, but none of them actually wanted to pay the bill. One might guess that this penurious nature was a gesture of respect toward their departed husbands’ years of diligent effort to build their fortunes. In fact, most of these women had become divorcées long before the deaths of their husbands and they were simply acting on their desire to protect the proceeds of the impressive divorce settlements that each of them had obtained.
Perhaps a parallel tea was being held that included all of the trophy wives of those deceased moneyed men, whose sexual gymnastics and spending habits had put their husbands in a slightly early grave. That parallel tea would have been taking place in South Beach, however, and each of those trophy widows would have had only her Cuban fitness instructor on her mind as she departed the restaurant.
The ostensible leader of the DIPs was Margaret Van Buren, the doyenne of the Palm Beach social scene. She was "of a certain age," as they say, that age being 73, but she had avoided the cosmetic procedures that had left the remaining DIPs in a state of suspended animation. Despite 20 extra pounds and a gray bouffant hairdo from a bygone era, it could be said that Mrs. Van Buren had aged gracefully, an outcome facilitated by a very long, very happy, and very luxurious marriage to her husband, Mickey Van Buren, who had made his fortune manufacturing explosives. Upon his peaceful passing, he had left her an estate valued at $500 million, which included one of the largest, most beautiful, and most important homes in Palm Beach.
In addition to her grandson, Martin, whom she was helping to raise, and her butler, James, Mrs. Van Buren's only year-round companion in her home was her three-pound dog, a Yorkshire terrier bitch known as Champion Dame Agatha the Superbad Yakuza in dog show circles and Daisy everywhere else. Daisy was with Mrs. Van Buren during this luncheon with the DIPs; in fact, it was only on rare occasions that she was seen sitting anywhere other than on her owner's lap.
Mrs. Van Buren had mixed feelings about the DIPs, in part because she was a widow rather than a divorcée. Although she was heavily involved in charitable works, she certainly did not need their financial support, but she did require their physical presence at the various events that she chaired. The DIPs cast a wide social net, and each would be sure to drag many friends along to fill the tables that she had purchased for the endless succession of gala evenings that were held throughout the season. For that reason, Mrs. Van Buren willingly hosted these high teas, although for the most part, the conversation tended to be tedious.
The comments of the DIPs were forgettable for their vapidity. Mrs. Adams was typical. She had been telling her fellow DIPs about a meeting that she had had with her interior designer regarding the redecoration of her home and mentioned that he had shown her a photograph of a George the Third center table for her foyer that had been priced at $9,000. She told her friends that she had been shocked.
"'Darling,' I told him, 'the table is lovely, but I was hoping for something a little more expensive.'"
The women tittered with recognition, believing that the sole purpose of interior design was to impress one's friends. Regrettably for them, the displaying of price tags had never come into vogue.
"I mean, really, how could I possibly be expected to appreciate the beauty of something so . . . inexpensive"
Many heads nodded in unison.
Mrs. Van Buren arched an eyebrow. "But Marylou, wouldn't you agree that it would be possible, hypothetically speaking, to decorate an entire room for, say, $10,000?"
Mrs. Adams looked at her blankly. "I don't understand. How could that be possible? Ten thousand dollars wouldn't even pay for the curtains."
Mrs. Van Buren looked slightly annoyed. "My point is that beauty is not a function of price. I mean, you can buy expensive things that are beautiful, but it's also possible to find beauty in things that are inexpensive. Look at these flowers, for example." She reached out and touched the petals of a white orchid that was standing in a vase on the table. "Orchids are so inexpensive here in Florida, but their subtlety and complexity and absolute beauty cannot be questioned."
Mrs. Adams frowned. "Oh, Margaret, don't be so naïve. Those orchids are not inexpensive. First, to be able to reach out and touch them, you need to be welcome at the high tea of the Dowagers in Paradise.
"Second, to be a member of the Dowagers, you need to be a member of Morningwood.
"Third, to be a member of Morningwood, you need to have a lot of money.
"Fourth, to have a lot of money, at least in the case of the women at this table, you need to have been married to a man who made a lot of money."
Mrs. Adams batted her eyelashes in an unsuccessful effort to appear coy and then she continued. "And fifth, you would have had to have divorced that man and received sufficient funds to support this lifestyle in the divorce settlement. So, that orchid is not inexpensive. It comes at an extremely high emotional cost to all of us. Plus, think of all of the times we had to look at our ex-husbands naked." She wrinkled her nose with distaste.
Mrs. Van Buren sighed. "Well, as you all know, I am a widow, not a divorcée, so I cannot share all of your feelings, but I think it's quite possible, and necessary, to make an effort to see the beauty in everything around you, regardless of its price. Conversely, it's also important to be able to recognize the ugliness in people and things, because that will enhance your understanding of beauty. But after all of that Pinot Grigio, I can see that this discussion is getting to be a bit too cerebral for you. I believe it's time to conclude our festivities. I'm sure many of us need to begin preparing for tonight's New Year's Eve party."
The above is an excerpt from the book The Misadventures of Oliver Booth
by David Desmond
Published by Greenleaf Book Group; October 2008; 978-1929774562
Copyright © 2008 David Desmond