Staying in a millionaire’s guesthouse was a lot like staying in a very exclusive resort. So exclusive that you saw no guests or staff, and sometimes felt like you were going crazy.
The guest house was modeled after a miniature Greek temple, which overlooked the mansion’s main pool. While the ground floor of the cottage was clearly for lounging and changing clothing, the upstairs had its own tiny bedroom and ensuite bathroom plus efficiency kitchen. If Abby so desired she could probably hide away in the guest house for weeks, subsisting on the pantry filled with Costco-sized packages of snack foods (rice crackers, mixed nuts, pretzel and dried fruit, juice and hard seltzer). For the first week Abby did exactly that. She didn’t even open up her phone since she knew it would make her worry. Instead she eavesdropped on Barbie’s occasional visitors, who seemed completely unaware that there was a person living in the guesthouse while they gossiped by the pool
The first time it happened, Abby awoke from an afternoon nap to female voices outside her window. A group of women sat in deckchairs with books in their laps, and over-sized wine glasses resting on tiny teak tables. One woman was waving her book, exclaiming that she’d never do any of the things that the characters were doing, thus it was unrealistic. Then another, a blond who seemed to be using her wine glass as a shield, said that was the whole point of reading–to get the perspective of someone not like you.
This was clearly Barbie’s book group of Scarsdale socialites, which Barbie later confessed was 10% book talk and 90% gossip. Abby got to experience the gossip as soon as Barbie left to get another bottle of wine, and the women immediately switched into a lower volume discussion of Barbie’s husband, who apparently had a reputation for groping women, even though he had to be ‘above eighty’. One woman even proclaimed that Barbie encouraged her geriatric husband to do it, in hopes he’d have a heart attack.
At first Abby thought she might be expected to come out and introduce herself. Had Barbie told them someone was staying in the guesthouse? But once they launched into speculation that Barbie was indirectly trying to murder her husband she thought it better to stay inside.
“You guys can laugh at him, and say he’s a gross old man, but he scares me. I think he’s pure evil.” the one brunette told the other women.
“He tried to talk my husband into a business deal, and when we decided against it, all those lawyers started calling us saying we breeched contract and owed two million! My husband was so embarrassed he told me not talk about it, but honestly I think people ought to know.”
“Well, what are doing here if you think he’s so bad?” said another lady, holding her over-sized wine glass like it was a bucket of popcorn.
“Let’s just say it’s best to know your enemies.” the brunette laughed and raised her glass, and the rest followed suite.
— Von
The guest house was modeled after a miniature Greek temple, which overlooked the mansion’s main pool. While the ground floor of the cottage was clearly for lounging and changing clothing, the upstairs had its own tiny bedroom and ensuite bathroom plus efficiency kitchen. If Abby so desired she could probably hide away in the guest house for weeks, subsisting on the pantry filled with Costco-sized packages of snack foods (rice crackers, mixed nuts, pretzel and dried fruit, juice and hard seltzer). For the first week Abby did exactly that. She didn’t even open up her phone since she knew it would make her worry. Instead she eavesdropped on Barbie’s occasional visitors, who seemed completely unaware that there was a person living in the guesthouse while they gossiped by the pool
The first time it happened, Abby awoke from an afternoon nap to female voices outside her window. A group of women sat in deckchairs with books in their laps, and over-sized wine glasses resting on tiny teak tables. One woman was waving her book, exclaiming that she’d never do any of the things that the characters were doing, thus it was unrealistic. Then another, a blond who seemed to be using her wine glass as a shield, said that was the whole point of reading–to get the perspective of someone not like you.
This was clearly Barbie’s book group of Scarsdale socialites, which Barbie later confessed was 10% book talk and 90% gossip. Abby got to experience the gossip as soon as Barbie left to get another bottle of wine, and the women immediately switched into a lower volume discussion of Barbie’s husband, who apparently had a reputation for groping women, even though he had to be ‘above eighty’. One woman even proclaimed that Barbie encouraged her geriatric husband to do it, in hopes he’d have a heart attack.
At first Abby thought she might be expected to come out and introduce herself. Had Barbie told them someone was staying in the guesthouse? But once they launched into speculation that Barbie was indirectly trying to murder her husband she thought it better to stay inside.
“You guys can laugh at him, and say he’s a gross old man, but he scares me. I think he’s pure evil.” the one brunette told the other women.
“He tried to talk my husband into a business deal, and when we decided against it, all those lawyers started calling us saying we breeched contract and owed two million! My husband was so embarrassed he told me not talk about it, but honestly I think people ought to know.”
“Well, what are doing here if you think he’s so bad?” said another lady, holding her over-sized wine glass like it was a bucket of popcorn.
“Let’s just say it’s best to know your enemies.” the brunette laughed and raised her glass, and the rest followed suite.
— Von
For some reason, I find the well-placed repetition of "over-sized wine glasses" to be very effective in undercutting the "book club's" view of Barbie's marital situation. So, how did Abby end up here? Did we find that out earlier? I am really into this saga, you know... ---Macoff
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