The left side where Mitzy’s desk sat was very minimalist and modern. It was done up in sleek dark wood in a mid-century aesthetic. Jewel tones in blues and greens for the upholstery. A few touches of gold at the base of a lamp or a clock on the wall contrasted beautifully with the walnut tones of the furniture. It was understated and luxurious all at once. Meanwhile Muffy’s space was an homage to the Southwest. She had used Talavera tiles for an accent wall, her armchairs were covered in a caramel leather that felt like butter to the touch, and a gorgeous Pendleton rug sat under a hand-carved Texas live oak coffee table. Her desk, she’d informed me, was an heirloom that their maternal grandfather commissioned from a furniture maker from Tlaquepaque, Guadalajara, in the ’50s. Very much exuding cowboy culture, while still managing to look refined and elegant. Such different approaches should’ve clashed, but the styles blended together seamlessly. Proof that if you had taste and enough money you could pull anything off.

“Darling, you look lovely today,” Mitzy said, reaching to pat my hand as soon as I walked in.

“Thank you.” These ladies’ fashion game was next level, and I preened at the compliment. Mitzy was in a killer emerald green pantsuit today. The slacks were wide legged, almost palazzos, with a crease I could slice cheese with. Her sister, who always dressed in colors matching her twin’s, was rocking a vintage Dior sheath in chartreuse.

I’d made sure that I looked the part today. It had not taken long in Texas to realize that the usual “gym chic” I sported most days working for Theo would not cut it at the Sturm Foundation. Today, because my legs were deal closers, I’d gone for a skirt and top instead of a pantsuit. An ivory Kobi Halperin pintuck blouse with an open collar that made my boobs look amazing, tucked into a Dries Van Noten skirt in a bright pink, blue and turquoise palette. My nude peep-toe Louboutins on my feet. To finish off the lewk, my “stunt on ’em” Chloe bag—purchased at full price on Fifth Avenue because that’s what a bad bitch does on occasion—looped on the crook of my elbow and I was ready for this.

“So shall I give you an update?” I said after a round of kisses and “hey y’alls.” But instead of the yes I was expecting, Mitzy and Muffy did that thing where they seemed to be communicating telepathically and then turned to me beaming.