Nancy’s Theory of Style (13 page)

She drove to her favorite grocery store.
The small parking lot was full, so she parked in a bus zone, since she’d only
be a few minutes.

She walked in cheerful preoccupation
through the aisles of the lavish market, pushing her cart of imported water,
low-fat milk, and limes. She was wearing a short, smocked, pink dress and glossy
flats, and looked as if she belonged here with the chic and conscientious
shoppers, buying attractively arranged, spotlighted organic produce.

Like the chic men in front of her, for
example.

The auburn-haired man with the marvelous
blazer, and dark wash jeans said, “Grilled fish or chicken? Because I can do
sautéed veggies with either,” to his lanky, dark-haired boyfriend with the great
butt.

The dark-haired man turned his head and
Nancy
said, “Derek!”

He still hadn’t shaved and was wearing
black Dickies and a worn-out Clash t-shirt under a faded blue-plaid flannel
shirt. His hair was still bedheaded in a way that made her think about him this
morning.

Derek took a moment and then said, “Mrs.
Carrington-Chambers!”

The other man turned to look at her,
holding a bunch of baby bok choy aloft.

Nancy
noticed that his lycra-blend, v-neck
t-shirt fit snugly across his trim torso. She shouldn’t have been surprised to
see Derek here, since it was so close to Polk Gulch. She smiled at him and his
friend. This must be Mel.
Nancy
said, “You’ll think I’m stalking you, but I needed to stock up on the essentials.”

Derek said, “I’d like to introduce my
very special friend, Prescott Bottomsly.
Prescott
,
this is Mrs. Carrington-Chambers.”

“Just
Nancy
,” she said. “How nice to meet you,
Prescott!” She held out her hand, but wondered, who is Mel?

“Nice to meet you,” the man said and
shook hands with her. He had an American accent and was more pretty than
handsome, with gentle features and a round chin.

Nancy
said, “Derek, I didn’t recognize you at
first in those clothes.”

“This costume? Prescott and I are going
to a Rockers and Boytoys tea dance. I’m Joe Strummer and he’s a rent-boy.” Derek
slipped his arm through his friend’s.

“So that’s why you look so rough! But I
would have dressed you up as Tommy Lee. You have that look.”

Prescott
smiled and said, “Yes, there is a
resemblance. An angularity. And elsewhere, if you know what I mean.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. Then he said
to
Nancy
, “Your
party was fantastic. Was Miss Barton pleased?”

“I think so. Tomorrow we’ll do our
post-mortem and then we’ve got to start on Mrs. Friendly’s party.”

Derek looked vaguely confused and
Prescott
said to him, “A
post-mortem is what Americans call the after-party dissection and analysis.”

“I hope you won’t be squeamish, Derek,”
Nancy
said.

The boyfriend was looking at
Nancy
’s pleated turquoise
suede bag with gold studs. “That’s a fabulous bag.”

“It’s not really mine. I stole it from
my mother’s closet.”

“That’s a closet I wouldn’t mind being
in!”

“I get her scarves, too. I heart your
blazer.”

“Ted Baker. You should see the lining.”

“You must be a high-rent boy, then,”
Nancy
said and they both
laughed. “Derek didn’t tell me you had such marvelous taste.”

“He didn’t tell me you were so very scrumptious.”

“I don’t think he notices. I’m not his
type.”

Derek said, “I endeavor to keep my
personal and professional lives separate out of respect for the both of you.”

“Oh, no need,” his companion said. “You
can share all the details of our passionate relationship with the world.”

“And, I don’t mind you sharing our
relationship, Derek,”
Nancy
said. “We have nothing to hide.” As she put her hand on his arm and squeezed, she
flashed back to her dream. But it was Bailey in her dream. “Have fun at your
party!”

When she returned to her car, a ticket
was stuck under the windshield wiper. She tossed it on the passenger seat so
that Derek could mail it to her husband.

Chapter 8: Bags that Don’t Overwhelm

On Monday morning, Gigi Barton called
just after 8:00 a.m. “
Nancy
,
marvelous job on the party! Some of my guests are still here and we kept a
masseuse and a guitarist to entertain us.”

“I’m uber-thrilled that you were happy
with it, Gigi,”
Nancy
said. “I’ll send the invoices to Mrs. Yao, and I hope you’ll tell your friends
about Froth for their events.”

“I’ll tell them and I’ll mention your
delicious assistant,” Gigi said. “Is he available for any freelancing?”

“Unfortunately not, Gigi. I feel
dreadful as it is keeping Derek away from his hunky boyfriend so often.”

“So you’re sticking to that story,” Gigi
said and laughed. “Tell him I’m very interested anyway, in case he should
become available, won’t you?”

“Of course I’ll tell him.”

When Derek arrived,
Nancy
told him, “Gigi called to tell us how
much she adored our event. It was spectacular, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed, Madame. I hope that she found
my services satisfactory.”

“I’m sure she did,”
Nancy
said. “Now we’ll have to start planning
the museum gala. Let’s look at my wedding albums and maybe they’ll put us in a creative
mood.”

They sat side by side on the sofa, close
enough so they could both look at the same album together.

“You were a fetching bride.” He stared
for a long time at a photo of Todd and said, “I pictured you with a different sort.”

“How so?”

“Someone more…a little more fabulous.”

“If Todd had been a little more fabulous,
we wouldn’t be apart now. He couldn’t understand how living in an odious house
was making me miserable. He thought that huge meant awesome.”

“You sound angry.

She laughed. “Oh, we Carringtons never
get angry. We don’t yell or have scenes in public. We hold everything inside.”

“Some people explode,” he said as he put
his hand on her knee. “Others implode. I’m glad you didn’t have to suffer
through any ugly scenes or…any brutality.”

“No, nothing like that! Nothing but a
feeling, like when you taste coffee that’s been sitting all day on the burner. It’s
bitter and gray. You can force yourself to drink it or try to disguise the
taste, but the more you do, the worse it seems. It’s like that. Maybe I expect
too much. That’s what my parents tell me.”

“Isn’t there anyone else who can be your
ideal demitasse, Madame?”

“There may be someone.” She shut the
photo albums and said, “Right now, though, we have to decide on a brilliant
theme for Mrs. Friendly’s event. And brilliant in the American way, not the
British way because you Brits will call mashed peas brilliant.”

“Mashed peas are brill, or as you would
say awesome. They don’t roll around your plate,” Derek went to his writing
table and picked up the folder with their notes from the library.

“I don’t say awesome,”
Nancy
said, “Todd says it. He says things
like, ‘This steak is awesome, dude.’ He actually calls me dude sometimes. It
makes me want to scream.”

“But Carringtons don’t scream,” Derek
said.

“Only if we were being chased by a pack
of liberals. Back to a brilliant idea.”

They were sorting through fashion magazines,
marking pages that had promising ideas, when someone buzzed
Nancy
’s apartment. Derek went to the intercom
and came back saying, “It’s a Mr. GP. Is Madame available?”

“GP? Awesome,” she said. “Let him in.”

Two minutes later, her gawky friend arrived
at her front door. She threw her arms around him, saying, “Hey, stranger!”

“Hey, princess.”

When he stepped back,
Nancy
saw that he was wearing geek chic, a
retro striped polo, brown cords, and black Converse hi-tops, and he carried a
shiny silver bag.

She introduced GP to Derek and they went
into the living room.

Derek said, “Shall I fetch tea, Madame?”

“Thank you, Derek.” She wished she had
cookies to offer her guest.

Derek nodded and left the room.

GP handed the bag to
Nancy
and said, “This is for you. I would have
come sooner, but I didn’t know you were here.”

She opened the bag, unfolded tissue, and
pulled out a silk scarf in watercolor aquas. “It’s beautiful, GP!”

He blushed and ducked his head. “You
told me that scarves are always good gifts and they should match eyes or
contrast with hair color, remember?”

“It’s one of my most fervent fashion
beliefs,” she said and wrapped the scarf around her neck. She hadn’t seen GP
after Todd had gotten his family’s investment and cut her friend loose. “It’s
great to see you. You look fab.”

“Yeah, nice of you to say that when
you’ve got that Zoolander here.”

“You shouldn’t judge an apple using an
orange as a standard.”

“Who’s the orange, him or me?” he said
with a grin. “I was bummed to hear about you and Todd, Nance, but I hope things
work out for you.”

“It’s a temporary relocation until we
can resolve what to do about that Hell House. I can’t stand living there, but
Todd actually likes it. What have you been doing?”

Derek returned with a tray with a teapot,
cups, and saucers.

Nancy
said, “I’ll pour. Thank you, Derek.’

“I’ll take care of the party billing,
Madame.”

While Derek worked, GP told
Nancy
about his
activities. “So I did what you said and set up a foundation. We give grants for
training and job placement, but I still have time on my hands. What are you
doing?”

“Right now, Derek and I are trying to
come up with a theme for the Barbary Coast Historical Museum Society Annual
Gala. Mrs. Jamieson Friendly wants me to give it a makeover, but what hasn’t
been done and what could be done in that dingy little museum space? There’s not
even room outside to set up tents.”

“The BCHM is one of my favorite
museums.”

“You’ve always been a pasticcio for
history.”

“You should have called me an almond,
which is a
California
nut,” GP said and scratched his head. “I always thought that it would be cool
to have a place down on the waterfront, like a theme park, honoring the
Barbary Coast
. You know, with wooden sidewalks and
saloons, gambling houses and ladies of ill repute. Gangs of hooligans for sure.
Hooligan comes from the
Barbary Coast
.”

“That sounds more like a theme park that
a one-night party,”
Nancy
said. “Designing and building the sets alone would take months, and we don’t
have that time.”

“When’s the party?”

“It’s always held on the last Saturday
in May, so we have a measly seven weeks. The donors keep it on their calendar
from year to year, which is lucky for us since otherwise it would be much too
late for invitations.”

“Seven weeks is enough time if you rent
the sets and costumes from that summer Gold Rush festival near
Sacramento
. They keep them in storage the
rest of the year.”

Derek looked up from his work and said, “What
if you moved the party from the Museum to a larger venue in the original
Barbary Coast
neighborhood?”

“That’s what I mean!” GP said. “You
could make it authentic. There’s an empty old warehouse on the Embarcadero that
I drive by all the time. I always think it would be perfect for a tourist
attraction. I wonder if you could swing a short-term rental.”

“It would be a huge project,”
Nancy
said, but she was
already thinking of a spectacular event.

“I can help,” GP said. “You don’t have
to pay me or anything and I know how to make it historically accurate.”

Nancy
could envision the rough-hewn bars, the
smell of spilled whiskey and salt-water, and the charged atmosphere of the demimonde.
“Okay, let’s do it. You are now an official Froth associate, GP. Let’s draw up
a plan.”

After an hour of discussion, GP left the
apartment, excited about his assignment to find out rental, shipping, and
assembly costs for the sets. Nancy and Derek were going to visit the empty
warehouse.