Nancy’s Theory of Style (17 page)

Her friend, Milagro said, “
Nancy
, that photo.”

“Oh, God, has everyone seen it?”

“Gigi told me about it when I went over
to redo her garden urns. She was totally lusting after your assistant and she
thought the photo was funny.”

“Gigi is not stealing my assistant away,
and the photo is so not funny! I’m the object of pity and disdain. Pisdain.”

“Lighten up, Nancy-pantyless. Who’s
going to believe that you’re a hoochie mama? You are the antithesis of
hoochieness.”

“You make me sound like a priss. I’m not
a priss. I talk about sex all the time.”

“Yes, you talk about sex, the same way
that I talk about Ulysses. I always intend to get around to it.”

“I ran into Junie Burns and she was
shocked by it.”

“I’m shocked she even read it.”

“The photo, not Ulysses.”

“Junie Rug-Burns Butt, gawd. I never
trust women who speak with wittle, teeny baby voices. It’s inherently
manipulative because it makes the listener work too hard, and Junie Rug-Burns
Butt never has anything interesting to say.”

“I never should have told you that
nickname. You hate all my friends.”

“Sloane’s okay and GP’s delightfully
geeky. You know I like Gigi,” Milagro said. “Considering the nudity on Rich
Bitches, no one’s going to pay much attention to a photo of a thong shot, even
with a cute little boy butt like yours.”

“Thank you for caring and sharing,”
Nancy
said.

“You’re welcome. Night beckons,
Nancikins, so I must go out and shake my groove thing.”

 
Nancy
hoped that Milagro
was right and the photo wouldn’t draw much attention.

While waiting for Birdie, Nancy watched
“Roman Holiday” with one of her heroines, Audrey Hepburn, on the flat-screen
that was hidden behind a mirror.

Usually
Nancy
was able to study Edith Head’s costume design, but tonight she was distracted
by the plot: a beautiful young princess escapes her repressive entourage and
has an adventure in
Rome
with a gorgeous reporter who hides his identity from her. Eventually, the
princess comes to her senses and returns to her royal life. Well, it was sort
of sad, but a princess obviously couldn’t stay with a commoner no matter how
fabulous he was. Who wanted to be a dull Mrs. when she could be a splendid Your
Majesty?

Nancy
tried to shake off her uneasiness by
watching another Audrey movie, “Sabrina.” The story was preposterous, a
chauffeur’s daughter falls in with an heir, but the costumes were gorgeous,
especially Givenchy’s exquisite white gown with black floral embroidery.

When the movie was over, midnight had
arrived, but Birdie had not.
Nancy
tried not to overreact. Birdie kept late hours. She would come tomorrow to get
her daughter.
Nancy
felt odd leaving the girl on her own in the living room, so she put on her
monogrammed silk pajamas, curled up in the corner of the sofa, and pulled the
comforter over herself.

Eugenia woke up once in the middle of
the night and called out, “Mama?”

“No, it’s your Auntie Nanny. Go back to
sleep.”

The girl turned around and snuggled up
to
Nancy
. It
was a very uncomfortable way to spend the night.

Chapter 10: Dress Like a Pirate for Fun and
Profit

Nancy
had finally fallen asleep when a noise
disturbed her. She ignored it and kept her eyes shut.

“Good morning, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers.
I rang at the front door, but there was no response.”

Derek stood in front of her, the
shoulder strap of a black leather messenger bag over his shoulder, with no
indication that the situation was in any way different than any other morning. “Shall
I return later?”

Seeing him there, so calm and handsome,
reassured
Nancy
.
“Is it nine already? I have to get up.” She looked over and saw that Eugenia
was gazing at Derek.
Nancy
said, “Derek, this is my cousin’s --— this is my niece, Eugenia. Eugenia, this
is Derek.”

“Hi,” the child said.

“Good morning, Miss Eugenia.”

“Derek is my assistant,”
Nancy
said. “He’s going
to make coffee while we get dressed.”

“I’m already dressed,” the girl said.
“Will you tie my cape?”

“You’re going to change into clean
clothes, brush your teeth, and wash your face and hands. We’ll discuss the cape
after you do that.”
Nancy
looked at Derek. “Would you please make cappuccinos for us and steamed milk
with honey for Eugenia?”

She took the girl’s bags to the bedroom
and, as she went through the garments,
Nancy
imagined the oily polyester content coating her hands. She was deeply offended
by the blatant product placement. Human beings should not be used as walking
billboards.

Nancy
picked out plain underwear and a lilac
sweatshirt and pants as the least offensive of all outfits.

“Why don’t you have any real shoes?” she
asked Eugenia.

“They’re at Grammy’s. Mama said we can’t
go back.”

Nancy
would have to have a talk with Aunt
Frilly. “Just wear your socks while you’re inside,” she said as Eugenia
examined the band-aids on her feet.

It took
Nancy
an eternity to wrangle Eugenia’s body
into the clothes, help her brush her teeth and scrub her face and hands with a
washcloth. The girl’s fine brownish hair was impossible to manage, but
Nancy
combed out most of
the tangles.

Nancy
grabbed a pair of jeans and a stretchy
peach top and got ready as fast as was humanly possible when one included a
three-step skin regime and four attempts to enliven curls.

When she went to the kitchen, Eugenia
was sitting on a stool and watching Derek. Her red towel had been tied around
her thin neck.
Nancy
made eye contact with Derek and he smiled, but there was an apprehensive
expression on his face that she’d never seen before.

“Where’s my breakfast?” Eugenia asked.

“You’ve got it,”
Nancy
said.

“Grammy says I should eat a real
breakfast, not fish eggs.”

“Fish eggs are full of protein,”
Nancy
said. “No fat,
low-cholesterol. They’re the perfect breakfast food.” She had a jar of domestic
caviar that she’d picked up at the
Ferry
Building
. “Would you like
some?”

The girl shook her head.

Derek said, “Many children eat porridge
for breakfast. We brought back a bin of assorted cereals from Ms. Barton’s
event. It’s in the pantry.”

“Really?”
Nancy
opened the pantry door and spotted the
clear plastic bin with boxes of Count Chocula, Froot Loops, and Cinnamon Toast
Crunch.

Eugenia’s dull brown eyes widened at the
sugar-coated glory of it all. When she was happily crunching and slurping her
breakfast,
Nancy
pulled Derek to the living room.

“My cousin, Birdie, left her here last
night and I have no idea when she’s coming back,” she said. “Birdie is not
conventional.”

“That is rather a sticky-wicket,
Madame.”

“Don’t I know it? Will you watch Eugenia
while I make some phone calls to see if I can locate her mother?”

Derek looked as if he was fighting the
urge to bolt out the front door. “Madame, this is not my area of expertise.”

“How hard can it be? She doesn’t seem to
need much beyond food and sleep and the occasional trip to the bathroom. That
would be loo, for you. No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be in my bedroom if
you need help.”

He nodded and straightened his shoulders.
“It’s only a child.”

“Exactly. But we should probably say
‘she’ not it.”

“Of course. She,” he practiced. “She
won’t stay here long?”

“Good lord, no! What would I do with a
child? No, this is absolutely a very brief interlude. Practically an
intermission at the opera when you’re glad you pre-ordered your cocktail
because it goes by so quickly.”

Nancy
went to the bedroom and closed the door.
The first call she made was to her personal attorney, Renee, who was in a
meeting.
Nancy
left a message on Renee’s voicemail saying that she needed to know if a photo
online was actionable. “Also, I’m living at my apartment for a few months to
work on my business and figure out things about my marriage.”

Then she called both Aunt Frilly’s home
phone and cell phone. She left a messages to call back immediately vis-à-vis
young persons who had been left on her doorstep.

Nancy
called her mother, who didn’t answer
either. She began to think there was a vast family conspiracy to ignore her. In
desperation, she phoned Birdie’s sister, her favorite cousin, Sissy, who was a
clothing designer.

Sissy answered on the first ring. “Hi,
honey,” she said. “Wazzup?”

“Sissy, no one says that since the
nineties. Your sister…”

“I have no sister.”

“I’m loving that you’ve denounced her so
biblically, but I don’t have time to squibble. Birdie came over last night and
left her offspring here. In my apartment. And luggage, too, including a really
gorgeous overnight case, and no word when she will return.”

“Is it a caramel leather Prada? Because
she stole the one that my father gave to me as a Valentine’s Day present. If I
never see Birdie again, it will be too soon.”

“Sissy, are you still whining about that
boyfriend?”

“He was my fiancé, Nanny! And he wasn’t
the only one. She sexed up every guy who ever showed the slightest interest in
me. She is a nasty, selfish, horrible slut.”

“To be fair, she always looks fabulous,”
Nancy
said. “She
was wearing a beautifully draped Halston dress –”

“I would love to talk to you about the
House of Halston, but this is not the time. Don’t be one of my sister’s
casualties. She lures people in, uses them, and by the time she tosses them
aside, they’re blithering, bitter, and broken.”

“Thank you for the alliteration. Now,
will you come get Eugenia, or should I drop her off at your atelier, or do you
want to meet somewhere else? The de Young has a new show and we can lunch at
the cafe.”

“D, none of the above. Don’t get
attached to that kid.”

“Sissy, what kind of crack are you
smoking? Eugenia’s an amuse-bouche of badness. Her conversational skills are
abysmal, she doesn’t make up in charm what she unfortunately lacks in
appearance, and she’s got a disturbing fixation on cows. She wears towels out
in public. Is she all right? If you know what I mean, because on your side of
the family there’s your Aunt Gert...”

“Leave Aunt Gert out of it. You made the
mistake of letting Birdie into your apartment, so you keep Eugenia.”

“When did you become so heartless,
Sissy? I’m sure your mother will be obliterated to know what you’ve said about
your own flesh and blood. She’s very devoted to the responsibilities of
family.”

“My mother? Who do you think told Birdie
that you could take care of Eugenia?”

“But…”

“I can’t talk about this anymore, Nanny.
My sister is so toxic that I need to schedule extra appointments with my
therapist and kinesiologist whenever she makes an appearance.”

“But…”

“Consider it your way of compensating
for use of the apartment in our building,” Sissy said resentfully because she
had tried to get the apartment when
Nancy
got married. “Oh, and that picture of you online is hilarious. I sent it to all
my friends. Bye!”

Nancy
went to the living room and found Eugenia
lying on the floor looking through one of her picture books. Derek was reading
a paperback. He looked up expectantly as she came in, and said, “I brought back
your notebook. It’s on your writing table.”

“Thank you, Derek,”
Nancy
said. “Isn’t everyone busy? See how
fabulously we all get along? What are you reading, Derek?”

He closed the book and held the cover
for her to see. “The
Barbary Coast
by Herbert
Ashbury. Mr. GP recommended it very highly and I purchased a copy last night. It’s
a fascinating history.”