Diamond Girl (35 page)

Since I wasn’t thinking at all, I certainly wasn’t thinking about how nice it would be for Daddy to arrive home from his week-long honeymoon in Nantucket and go into the library where he would pick up his favorite magazine, Vanity Fair, and see his daughter on the cover.

At the time when the photographer had suggested I be seated on my chaise, wearing only a strategically draped scarf and holding a cigarette, it seemed like a good idea.

Chapter 38

That was a big year for me. I became a sister again and I made the cover of Vanity Fair and spoke openly about a few of my family’s nasty little secrets. I ended up totally on the outs with Daddy who took Aunt Georgia’s side. I bought another horse and I heard back from the adoption lawyer I had so impulsively called.

The lawyer’s name was Claudia Luciano and she was Italian, beautiful and very versed in the ways of my tribe. When you have a last name like mine, all the rest of the world becomes filled with sales people looking to help us cut through any annoying obstacles, most especially the annoyance of having to wait for anything.

For girls like me there is no three year waiting list for a Vuitton Hobo bag and I never needed reservations at restaurants with a six month wait, and my name was helpful for practical day-to-day things like walking onto sold-out planes. With a name like mine, the assumption is automatic - I must have unlimited money - which is obviously a joke as I’m dying right now in squalor. To be fair, though, I ca
n see how people would think I was as rich as God. I’m not, but my father is and, honestly, life was just easier if those around me still viewed me as the great heiress, especially after I was sent out to L.A. .

Before, in New York, I used to shun people I thought were catering to me because of Daddy, but that was when I was also one of the people who thought I was as rich as King Midas, or Bill Gates. After the whole 'go west, young girl' dictates and finding out about my trust, I started feeling poor for the first time in my life, and I may be blond but
I’m not stupid, so I kept the truth about my new financial realities to myself.

Milan knew but that was different. If anyone understood that keeping up appearances was more important than reality, it was her, and I knew she would keep my secrets, like I’ve always kept hers.

Not broadcasting my real financial limitations kept the world from treating me like a regular person, and given that I always felt sub-regular at best, I needed the continued ass kissing and special treatment that my last name gave me.

Adoption attorneys are also in the sales business, so I didn’t need to tell Claudia that I wasn’t interested in waiting around for years for a baby. It was understood.

I had become instantly famous after the John and Aunt Georgia debacle, and since that was also when I began going out every night in L.A. and being showcased on Radar online and TMZ for doing it, when word got out about my upcoming motherhood.

The attacks were quick and ugly.

Heirhead Carey Kelleher, having decided that you can only buy so many pairs of Jimmy Choos, is now shopping for a baby. Here’s wishing you well, Carey, and also a reminder: you can’t drop off babies at resale boutiques when you get tired of them.

That kind of stuff is not only nasty but inaccurate because I always donated my old shoes and clothes, I didn’t sell them. 

As far as motherhood was concerned, I was pretty sure I was totally committed to the idea, and why not? Aunt Georgia had adopted a little boy, Daddy had just become the way too proud father of Kells VI, and I had begun to think I would never find anyone to marry me. So why not start my own family?

Still and all, I have to admit I was a little taken aback when Claudia called me a month after my initial inquiry. In her fabulous European diva accent she said, “Carey, darling, I have the most marvelous news. I’ve found you a child, and not just any child, but a gorgeous little blond girl. She’ll look just like you, well
…” her voice faded momentarily then brightened, “… I’m looking at her photo right now and it’s impossible to tell if she is going to have dimples but, not to worry, that can always be fixed later on.”

I was stunned. “What? Claudia, are you serious? You have a baby for me, a little girl? How did you … I mean how old is she? Oh my God, you have pictures. Send them now. I’m right in front of the computer.” 

She laughed, clearly delighted with my reaction. “I just hit send, darling. They should be loading.”

They were and my screen filled with the photograph of a tiny blond baby girl who was looking at whoever was taking her picture with narrowed blue eyes. I don’t know if you can fall in love with a picture, but I knew I wanted her and I told Claudia so.

“Of course you do, darling, she’s perfect, and only three months old. I’ll plan on dropping by your home, say Friday, with a small team to do the home visit. Just red tape and nothing for you to worry about, though if you could be there, it would be nice. Maybe some refreshments?”

I was having trouble focusing and repeated stupidly, “Refreshments? Sure, uhm, what time? Oh God, I’m not asking the right questions, am I? Claudia where is she from, the south or
…”

“Hardly the south, darling.
I found her in Kazakhstan … funny little country; I think it used to be part of …”

“Kazakhstan? You mean the place where Borat came from?” 

Claudia burst into laughter. “I loved that movie, but you do know darling, it was fictional? Well, obviously you can see how pretty she is, so it’s clear that her parents weren’t brother and sister, which is something you might presumably run into here in your own country. The days of college girls from good families giving up their children are long gone, I assure you. No, Kazakhstan is the place for stunning white infants these days. I can tell you in confidence that your little girl won’t be the only one from her country growing up in Beverly Hills.”

I mumbled something about how this was the happiest day of my life and told her I would see her on Friday, and then I hung up the phone and panicked. I was going to have a baby. God, what did it mean, what would she need and who could I ask for help?

Which is how I ended up calling my mother. Why I did that is a question for shrinks to debate later on. Surprisingly she answered her cell. “Carey darling, I was just thinking about you.”

“You were? Why?”

“Oh darling, let’s not start. I know I’ve been terribly neglectful but I’ve had such a year. You will not believe my news.” 

“Actually, Mom, I’m calling with news too and
…”

“I’m getting married.”

“You’re what?”

“Yes, your old mama has found love again, darling. You’ll know him, of course, his name is Mashid Rasmon,
you know the football player. He used to be married to …”

“Oh my God.
Have you finally gone crazy? You’re going to marry a Muslim?” 

She sighed. “I suppose this is what passes for congratulations from you, and I should no doubt be grateful that you did not allude to his skin color. Tell me, Carolyn, can I put you down as a yes for the wedding or would you rather just give an interview about it?” 

“Good to know you’re keeping up with me, Mumsy, and I’m surprised you disapprove. I thought you hated Aunt Georgia.”

“Oh, I do, I do, and I was actually rather pleased to see you displaying some backbone, of course. I hear your father wasn’t … but never mind, you’re a grown woman now, Carey, and you can make your own decisions.
Which leads me back to my wedding. Mashid and I are getting married in five days in Aspen. He loves Colorado in the summer and I’m buying a rather splendid house there as a wedding gift for him. Of course we’ll be holding the service and the reception at Little Nell’s. It’s the only decent place in town.”

“Colorado’s a good choice, Mom You can lay low and ride out whatever Page Six is going to say about this.”

“Don’t worry about my press coverage, Carolyn, and at any rate I doubt they will say much at all. Mentioning my marriage in any sort of derogatory terms might smack of intolerance and nobody’s open about that sort of thing. No, I imagine we’ll be welcomed back with open arms.”

I imagined quite the opposite but decided to be conciliatory because I wanted
someone, well I wanted her, to say something positive about my own news. “Okay, Mom, well you know what, congratulations. I don’t think I’ll be able to come to the wedding because I might be pretty busy myself next week but I’ll send you two crazy kids something fabulous.”

Her voice was ice.
“Really, Carolyn? I’m sorry to hear that. I keep reaching out to you and you keep slapping me away. Well fine, I …”

“I’m not slapping you away, I’m adopting a little girl and I’m not sure but I think she’s coming right away. It’s what I was calling to tell you. See, you’re going to be a bride and a grandmother all at once.” 

Shocked silence greeted my statement. For a second I thought she had hung up on me, but then I heard a shallow gasp.

I said, “Please, please Mom, if I ever needed you to say the right thing to me, it’s now. If we’re ever going to be anything at all to each other, please try and say something good to me right now.”

“You’re not giving me a lot of time, Carey.”

“No, but I’m giving you a lot to work with.”

She laughed and so did I. Ruefully she said. “All right, then, I think I’m delighted. This may be what you need and it may be what I need, another chance. I’ll tell you what, Mashid and I will plan a visit out there very soon. We’ll see how it goes from there. Mashid is very family-oriented and I think this will work out nicely.”

I didn’t tell her not to bother using me to make herself look more
human to her new toy-boy husband, a guy twenty years younger than her. When begging for approval you can’t be choosy. I knew Daddy wouldn’t bother to come out; we weren’t speaking, so I sent him an email announcement.

He answered tersely two days later. “I don’t agree with this decision, Carey, not now. You seem to me to be too young for this. However, I am well aware that my opinions don’t much matter to you these days, so I will close by congratulating you and advising you to apprise Herbert of this as soon as possible.”

If I had been a little unsure, and I was, Daddy’s email did it. It was so clear to me that if I was ever going to have anyone to love me, I needed to go through with the adoption. 

On Friday, after a fifteen minute perfunctory visit from Claudia and two dumpy state social workers, I began the fun part - shopping. This much I knew I could do perfectly for the baby girl who I had decided to name Diana after the poor lost princess.

I hired Stanley at Ian Patrick again to give Diana the most outrageous nursery possible and then I contacted Children’s Salon in Bond Street. They are the children’s clothier who once dressed my sisters and me and, once online, I went crazy. Shopping for baby girls is the best shopping of all and I wanted her to be the best dressed, most confident baby in the world. I believe clothes are power at any age and I began Diana’s wardrobe with a hundred hand-stitched dresses from Aletta of Tuscany, and why not? Money is no object when you don’t keep track of it.

Stanley, working under my silly edict that money wasn’t important,
only time was, hired a famous painter who turned my former guest room and shoe storage facility into a pale pink rose garden. Stanley had the softest ivory carpet installed and swagged the ceiling in the palest green silk. Her crib was a work of art. Made of wrought iron, it looked exactly like Cinderella’s carriage, and if the room cost nearly a quarter of a million dollars, I didn’t mind, and since I was dodging Herbert’s calls, I don’t know if he minded either.

Milan had just started filming Season two of
The Natural Life
, so I asked Christy to be Diana’s godmother because I didn’t want to wait until she got back to have my christening party.

If a perfect room and a one-of-a-kind wardrobe was all you needed to bring home a baby, I was ready. My housekeeper, Mieko, took care of stocking the house with more mundane things and I didn’t ask her if she would help with the baby, I just assumed that she would, but only if I couldn’t be with her myself.

Before she arrived I fantasized about being the kind of mother I’d never had. I didn’t have any idea what babies were like but I did have a vague misty picture of Diana and me rocking together in her softly lit room, to be followed by she and I appearing in mother-daughter fashion shows. I know it sounds stupid but I bet even people who have lived differently than me are clueless about motherhood and, ready or not, there they are. Claudia, for a mere forty-five thousand dollars plus expenses, had personally flown over to fetch Diana and, on the last day of August, she brought her home to me and put her in my arms.

I’ve done so many stupid things, and I’ve loved the wrong people, and I’ve never been good enough for that little girl, but I worshipped
her from the moment I saw her and I knew then, and I still know now, that she is the one perfect true thing that has ever happened to me.

Chapter 39

It’s not you, it’s me; people say that a lot. They’ve said it to me a lot.