Mortal Friends by Jane Stanton Hitchcock

Author:Jane Stanton Hitchcock
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-08-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

The Reliable Source column, along with the local magazines—Washington Life, Capitol File, and the Washingtonian—all covered Bob and Melody’s splashy reception at the Hay Adams. I still hadn’t heard a word from Bob—not that I expected to. But it was galling to see him looking so relaxed and happy in those pictures. Everyone was there, including Grant and Cynthia, who were photographed standing with Nouria Sahala in her leopard-print Dior dress. Marge Horner, wearing a fixed pumpkin smile, popped up in several photos and was quoted as saying she was going to give the couple “an exclusive little dinner” at her house. Even Peggy and Rolly Myers were there, much to my dismay, along with the Jed Jimsons, Kyle Michaels, the artistic director of the Kennedy Center, Leonid Slobovkin and his wife, and many other prominent Washingtonians. Rosina finally confiscated all the magazines because she couldn’t stand to see me poring over them and torturing myself.

“People who are attracted to the thing they hate are the most miserable,” she said. Wise words.

Cynthia moved into her house—well, Gay’s house, as I preferred to think of it. I heard through the grapevine that she got some schlocky decorator from out of town to finish it for her. A blurb in the Style section deemed her “a worthy successor” to Mrs. Harding, saying that Gay would have undoubtedly approved of Cynthia’s “ongoing munificence and enrichment of the community.”

Poor Violet was now more obsessed with Cynthia than she was with the Beltway Basher—which was really saying something. She stopped clipping articles about the stalled progress of that investigation and focused on coverage of Cynthia instead. She even stopped asking me about Gunner, which was fine with me; I couldn’t stop thinking about my last conversation with him, the deep sadness in his eyes. Violet tracked Cynthia like a bloodhound, which wasn’t hard—the scent of Cynthia’s money had left a trail all over town.

Cynthia was like a philanthropic Lady Bountiful, tripping through Washington, handing out millions to various charities and institutions like golden apples from a bottomless basket. Everyone wanted to meet her, to court her, to impress her in order to benefit from her unparalleled largesse. Not only was she giving lavish amounts of money to charity, she was giving lavish gifts to important people around town—Chanel bags to congressional wives, cashmere mufflers and designer ties to senators and cabinet members. The list of recipients was long and prestigious.

Cynthia referred to herself and Grant as the “It” couple because the two of them were invited everywhere, including the White House. She seemed to be at the center of everything, hawking philanthropy as if it were a new miracle cure. Indeed, philanthropy was a worthy calling as well as a redemptive force. So powerful was its intrinsic goodness, it could restore the luster to even the most sullied reputations in short order. When in doubt, give. When in trouble, give. When indicted, give more.

Though Cynthia was justly proud of the work she was doing, there was an undeniable arrogance in her manner.

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