“And I could give her nothing?” he asked. The thought of his mother siding with Alexander made him want to sweep his arm across the table and send the silver trays and fine china crashing to the floor, giving the patrons a juicy morsel to pocket and feast on with their gossip-loving friends later.

“You’re a child, Alexia,” his mother said. “Why would you want the headache of a girlfriend now? You have the whole world at your disposal and there are plenty more girls out there who’ll make you say, ‘Anna who?’”

“Mother, don’t!” he interrupted. “She’s the one I want. There is no other girl for me.”

“Fine, but if she doesn’t choose you, my dear, don’t come crying to me. I’m offering you the chance right now to go to any school anywhere in the world. The offer expires as soon as we’re done here.”

“Thank you, but no thank you,” he said, drinking the last of his oolong rosehip tea.

“Very well…” she said.

Vronsky waited for his mother to finish her tea and was relieved there was no further discussion of his love life. Instead Vronsky’s mother recounted all the new couture pieces she had just purchased in Europe while Alexia listened dutifully. Only later, when they were outside waiting for Leonard to pull the car around, did Geneviève tell her son about Claudine, the daughter of her Parisian friend, who, she informed her son, he’d be escorting to Coachella. “I’ve already told Beatrice about her and I know there’s room on the plane.”

“I don’t know if I’m going anymore, and even if I do, I’m not a babysitter,” Vronsky said, his anger returning now that his mother’s meddling had resumed.

“You are going, and you’re going to make sure Claudine has a wonderful time,” his mother said. “You need some sun, and the distraction will do you good. Trust me, I know all too well the agony of awaiting your fate from a lover. It’s its own special circle of hell.”

XIX