morning after the Fourth of July weekend of 1995, she sounded like a little kid with an incredible secret.
“Rosie, are you ready for this?” she asked.
They had been at his house on Martha’s Vineyard for the long weekend, just hanging out, when John suggested they go fishing. “I wanted to go fishing like I wanted to cut off my right arm,” she said, laughing. But Carolyn agreed; she was always a good sport when it came to John’s activities—kayaking, scuba diving, ice climbing, she was game.
“He asked me to marry him out on the water, on the boat,”she said. “It was so sweet. He told me, ‘Fishing is so much better with a partner.’”
“That’s amazing!” I said.
“Yeah, but I’ve been a nervous wreck ever since I got off that boat. We had people up for the weekend, and I had to pretend like nothing happened. I just don’t want anyone to know yet,” she said. In her voice, I could hear the jitters stemming from her excitement and also from her nervousness over how people would react when they found out.
From the start, Carolyn was worried that when their engagement went public, the media would tear into her—saying she wasn’t good enough for John. And she was right to worry, because that’s exactly what happened.
I stopped by their apartment later that night and she showed me the ring, a platinum band surrounded by diamonds and sapphires. As soon as I saw it, I realized: That’s the secret package I picked up for John!
A couple of months earlier, he had casually asked me to pick something up at Maurice Tempelsman’s office. I assumed it was a gift for Carolyn, and I knew it had to be jewelry, because Maurice, who was Jackie Onassis’s longtime companion until she died, was a diamond dealer. But John was so nonchalant, it didn’t occur to me that I was picking up an engagement ring.
On the way out of Maurice’s office, I put the box into a plastic Duane Reade bag so as not to draw attention to it, then hopped in a cab back to the office. I certainly wasn’t getting on the subway carrying an expensive diamond something-or-other.
As soon as I got back to the office, I handed the Duane Readebag to John, who put it in a drawer, where it remained for almost a week. I regularly went into his desk drawers, and it drove me nuts to see that plastic bag just sitting there. I imagined him throwing away the bag by mistake and saying, “It was in that bag?” I was relieved the ring had made it safely onto Carolyn’s finger. A replica of an emerald and sapphire Schlumberger ring John’s mother had owned, it was not a typical engagement ring. But it was simple and beautiful.
Despite all the time we spent together, John and I never had a direct conversation about his engagement. After Carolyn called me to deliver the news, I knew him well enough not to race into his office and shout, “Congratulations!” In fact, I knew not to bring it up at all unless he did first, which he didn’t.
As far as he was concerned, news of the engagement was relegated to “girl talk,” and he wanted no part of it. He assumed, correctly, it was something Carolyn would tell me during one of our dozens of daily calls. It became clear that I knew when he came home and found Carolyn and me on the couch sipping wine and talking about her anxiety over their engagement becoming public knowledge. “Oh, brother,” he said. “Is this all we’re going to talk about?” That was typical John, avoiding drama.
If there was any ambivalence about their getting married, it was on my part. Although I was happy for them, I was also slightly bummed. It had nothing to do with them, and everything to do with marriage. Couples were never as fun once they got married. People said, “I do,” and then turned serious and boring. I hoped that wouldn’t happen to John and Carolyn, because I really liked hanging out with them.
The three of us went to dinner with Frank once in a while, but mostly I spent time with
“Rosie, are you ready for this?” she asked.
They had been at his house on Martha’s Vineyard for the long weekend, just hanging out, when John suggested they go fishing. “I wanted to go fishing like I wanted to cut off my right arm,” she said, laughing. But Carolyn agreed; she was always a good sport when it came to John’s activities—kayaking, scuba diving, ice climbing, she was game.
“He asked me to marry him out on the water, on the boat,”she said. “It was so sweet. He told me, ‘Fishing is so much better with a partner.’”
“That’s amazing!” I said.
“Yeah, but I’ve been a nervous wreck ever since I got off that boat. We had people up for the weekend, and I had to pretend like nothing happened. I just don’t want anyone to know yet,” she said. In her voice, I could hear the jitters stemming from her excitement and also from her nervousness over how people would react when they found out.
From the start, Carolyn was worried that when their engagement went public, the media would tear into her—saying she wasn’t good enough for John. And she was right to worry, because that’s exactly what happened.
I stopped by their apartment later that night and she showed me the ring, a platinum band surrounded by diamonds and sapphires. As soon as I saw it, I realized: That’s the secret package I picked up for John!
A couple of months earlier, he had casually asked me to pick something up at Maurice Tempelsman’s office. I assumed it was a gift for Carolyn, and I knew it had to be jewelry, because Maurice, who was Jackie Onassis’s longtime companion until she died, was a diamond dealer. But John was so nonchalant, it didn’t occur to me that I was picking up an engagement ring.
On the way out of Maurice’s office, I put the box into a plastic Duane Reade bag so as not to draw attention to it, then hopped in a cab back to the office. I certainly wasn’t getting on the subway carrying an expensive diamond something-or-other.
As soon as I got back to the office, I handed the Duane Readebag to John, who put it in a drawer, where it remained for almost a week. I regularly went into his desk drawers, and it drove me nuts to see that plastic bag just sitting there. I imagined him throwing away the bag by mistake and saying, “It was in that bag?” I was relieved the ring had made it safely onto Carolyn’s finger. A replica of an emerald and sapphire Schlumberger ring John’s mother had owned, it was not a typical engagement ring. But it was simple and beautiful.
Despite all the time we spent together, John and I never had a direct conversation about his engagement. After Carolyn called me to deliver the news, I knew him well enough not to race into his office and shout, “Congratulations!” In fact, I knew not to bring it up at all unless he did first, which he didn’t.
As far as he was concerned, news of the engagement was relegated to “girl talk,” and he wanted no part of it. He assumed, correctly, it was something Carolyn would tell me during one of our dozens of daily calls. It became clear that I knew when he came home and found Carolyn and me on the couch sipping wine and talking about her anxiety over their engagement becoming public knowledge. “Oh, brother,” he said. “Is this all we’re going to talk about?” That was typical John, avoiding drama.
If there was any ambivalence about their getting married, it was on my part. Although I was happy for them, I was also slightly bummed. It had nothing to do with them, and everything to do with marriage. Couples were never as fun once they got married. People said, “I do,” and then turned serious and boring. I hoped that wouldn’t happen to John and Carolyn, because I really liked hanging out with them.
The three of us went to dinner with Frank once in a while, but mostly I spent time with
Similar Books
