“You know I love Clarice and Samantha. They’re both my best friends, so I try to keep out of it.” She cocked her head demurely.

“Oh, you’re good, Judy.” The columnist winked at her, “You’re really good.”

Judy Tremont was quickly emerging as the girl next in line to rule the roost.

Judy began the day of the gala with her traditional sunrise Pilates class. Then Albert brought the girls to school while Judy took a quick run around the reservoir with her aerobics trainer.

When she came home she arranged for her facialist to come to her house for a lavender herbal rejuvenation treatment. She followed that with a deep-root massage on her scalp and a quickie highlight perk-up. Early this fall, she had stopped running to Frédéric Fekkai for appointments. It was just much more efficient to have them all come to the apartment.

At noon she told the cook that she was much too excited and nervous to eat lunch. Instead she had the cook prepare half a Slim-Fast bar, steamed broccoli rabe, and iced green tea.

Judy believed she had never been happier. She was becoming a style icon in the most stylish city in the world. Any yearnings she had about moving back to the largest house in Modesto were gone. She had a fantastic life and she had created it all herself. Albert had real money but he was clueless about how to spend it. Judy had stuck to her vision, and in the hours before the gala she felt she had accomplished as much as any editor, doctor, account executive, or any other kind of working mother. The names of successful women lawyers, bankers, and even big-deal doctors like Francesca Weissman are soon forgotten. But icons like C. Z. Guest, Slim Keith, or Bunny Mellon would endure. And let’s face it, Judy thought to herself as she nibbled her Slim-Fast bar, what remains indelible is a woman’s style.

“Mrs. Tremont, the gentleman from VBH is here,” the housekeeper interrupted her snack.

“You can send him up.” Judy rang the bell for the cook to collect her used plates.

Judy still hadn’t settled on an evening clutch. She had her Judith Leiber $10,000 egg-shaped one that Albert bought her last year for Christmas. But she felt it was a little Palm Beach dowager for the Museum of Modern Art. She knew if she went with her Prada, Chanel, or Herrera, there was a very good chance that someone else would also have it tucked under their arm. Judy wanted to inject her style with a hipper grace note, a little bit of rock ’n’ roll. So she arranged for VBH, the new exclusive handbag, jewelry, and home accessories store on Madison, to send over a few little items.

“I love this one,” the very chic pencil-thin salesman with a cashmere sweater tied over his black jacket cooed as Judy lifted a lavender alligator box.