Nancy’s Theory of Style (21 page)

“She wants to sleep in the closet,”
Nancy
said loudly. “I
have an amazing and beautiful closet!”
Nancy
took Eugenia by the hand and said, “Honestly! Some people.”

But
Nancy
felt a vague discomfort afterward,
almost as if she’d done something as wrong as having visible panty lines. When
Eugenia wanted stay longer at the park,
Nancy
didn’t tell her as she usually did that it was a work day, and when a nasty
little dog snapped at the girl,
Nancy
said sternly to the owner, “All dogs are required by law to be on leash on this
terrace! Either follow regulations, or stay out of the park.”

That night, while Eugenia was busy
watching “The Little Mermaid,” Nancy called Sloane to make sure that she would
be available to work at the
Barbary Coast
fundraiser.

“Last Saturday in May, right?” Sloane
said. “When my mother was alive, she was on the board and now I’ll finally be
able to go. How many bodies do you need?”

Nancy
had forgotten that Sloane’s mother
passed away young. Perhaps that was why Sloane was so fanatical about mothering.
“We need people to cover the check-in table, special guests, swag, talent, crew
and caterers. I think we need at least eight besides us,”
Nancy
said. “So, Sloane, how are your
children?”

While Sloane talked about her boys in
excruciating detail,
Nancy
organized the contents of her refrigerator. There were some new additions: yogurt,
fruit, cheese, juice, cooked chicken breasts, and whole grain salads. The
cupboards held graham crackers, dried fruit, and boxes of organic macaroni and
cheese.

Sloane seemed to be winding down her
monologue about an afternoon in the redwoods, so
Nancy
jumped in. “Did I mention that I’m
watching my cousin Birdie’s daughter, Eugenia? It’s been an utter delight.”

“How wonderful! I wish I had a girl. Maybe
next time.”

Nancy
shuddered at the memory of Sloane’s
lumbering pregnatude. “Yes, girls are so effortless! Eugenia hardly says a word
and she’s content with everything.”

“How long has she been with you?”

“About a week now. Birdie’s taken
Eugenia all over on her travels.” Travels sounded nicer than “numerous
shack-ups with international degenerates, artists and combinations of the
aforementioned.”

Sloane was silent for so long that
Nancy
wondered if the
connection had been lost. “Sloane?”

“Hmm,
Nancy
, you know I’ve met Birdie a few times.”

“Yes, and?”

“She lives such an exciting life, and
children thrive on stability. Little girls aren’t quiet. They are very vocal
and verbal and they can be so loud. They have no volume control.”

“Maybe the ones you know, but Eugenia is
a Carrington. I was a delightful child,” said
Nancy
and out of nowhere came the memory of how she’d had a screaming tantrum at her
seventh birthday party because her mother served a fresh strawberry cake
instead of the Barbie marshmallow cream cake
Nancy
wanted.

“I’m sure Eugenia’s very sweet,” Sloane
said. “But it’s possible that when she gets more comfortable with you, another
little girl will emerge.”

Nancy
didn’t appreciate Sloane’s
better-parent-than-thou attitude. “She’s just here for a few days, but I’ll
keep that in mind. Must go now! Bye!”

Nancy
tried to pay more attention to
Eugenia’s mood as they went through their bedtime reading, Claire Wilcox’s The
Golden Age of Couture. When she closed the book,
Nancy
said, “And that is how haute couture revitalized the economies of
Britain
and
France
and restored hope and beauty
after the atrocious shoulder pads and devastation of World War II.”

“Auntie Nanny, can you sew?”

“Yes, and I used to make all the clothes
for my dolls when I was a girl. I sewed clothes for myself, too, but not as
well as your Aunt Sissy.”
Nancy
had even taken pattern-making classes, but she only used the fully-electronic
sewing machine in her laundry room for mending and altering clothes.

“Can we make a real cape?”

“I made a cape for my pony, so it should
be no problem to make one for you.
Willoughby
was very difficult to fit, and he chewed up the delightful gingham hat I
created for him. You won’t eat the cape?”

Eugenia giggled and said, “No!”

“That’s good to know. Then I think we
can work together.”

“Auntie Nanny?”

“Yes, Eugenia.”

“Why does Derek go ’way?”

“He has to go home.”
Nancy
imagined a sleek, masculine, modern
flat. Or a more traditional Edwardian apartment.

“Grammy says married people live
together. Derek can sleep here, too.”

Her assumption took
Nancy
by surprise. “Eugenia, I’m not married
to Derek. Derek works for me.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Eugenia seemed very disappointed
by this answer. “Why not?”

“Because I am already married and I have
a husband.”

The girl looked skeptical. “He’s not
here. Mama lives with her husbands.”

Nancy
wasn’t going to explain that those men
were not husbands. “My husband lives in a big house. A giant house – a house
big enough for a family of tacky, crude giants -- with a monster-sized wet-bar
in the bedroom. He lives there.”

“I like Derek better.”

“I do, too, but that’s…I mean, Derek is
very nice and handsome, but he’s staff. One doesn’t marry staff.”

“I’m going to marry Derek.”

Nancy
didn’t bother trying to explain the
obstacles. “I hope you’ll let me plan that wedding.”

Later, when
Nancy
had tucked the child under the
comforter in the closet, she asked, “Do you like sleeping here?”

“I like having my own liddle room. It
smells good and I like the preddy things.”

“Little and pretty. You are welcome to
sleep here whenever you visit. Goodnight, Eugenia.”

“Auntie Nanny, will you stay close?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Mama goes away when I sleep.”

“I promise not to go anywhere. I’ll be
right out here.”

Nancy
stood at the doorway of the closet,
watching until the girl closed her eyes. She didn’t think Eugenia was too quiet.
Some people were naturally quiet.

No one had heard from Birdie yet, and
Nancy
suspected that her cousin had flitted off to
Greece
. Why had
Birdie kept the girl if she didn’t want her? Why couldn’t her clotheshorse
cousin be bothered to buy shoes for Eugenia?

There were probably some obscure and
childless members of the family who would take in the child for a stipend. It’s
possible that there existed Carringtons who might even own a cow. She imagined
Eugenia frolicking with a bovine companion on a farm somewhere in that vast
unknown called
America
’s
Heartland.

Nancy
’s musings were interrupted by a phone
call from her husband.

“Hello, Nance.”

 
“Hi, Todd. How are you?”

“I miss you, sweetie. It’s not the same
here without you.”

“How can you tell? That house is so big
we always lost each other in it.”

Instead of arguing, he said, “How is
everything going? How is your new assistant?”

“Oh, Todd, he’s fantastic! Thank you so
much. He’s smart and efficient. He writes down everything I say! He dresses
exquisitely! Todd, you should go shopping with him and he can help you pick out
attractive things.” She heard a sigh at the other end of the line.

“Everything about me is wrong, isn’t it?
 
Maybe your assistant could help me pick
out pajamas to wear when I go out to parties and get falling-over drunk.”

Of course, Bill had showed him that
picture. “Wait until you see the photos that are coming up. They show full
boobage, although you always thought mine were too small.”

He was silent for a minute, and then he
said, “I know you’re making this up, because Bailey told me you were working
hard and exhausted when he saw you at Gigi’s. He asked if it was okay to ask
you out as a friend. I said, sure, I’d be happy if he kept an eye out for you. So
what else is going on?”

He sounded as if he was fishing for
information he already knew. Her mother might have ratted out the whole Eugenia
situation to him. “Not much. I’m spending all my time planning Mrs. Bentley
Jamison Friendly’s historical museum gala.”

“Make sure you do an awesome job and
really suck up to her. She’s a great connection.”

“Todd, I don’t suck up to people. I
cultivate relationships with people because they’re fabulous.” It was merely
coincidental that fabulous people were usually well connected. “After all, I’m
very close to Sloane and she hasn’t a connection in the world.”

He brayed out his har-har laugh. “How
can you say that? Her father has advised presidents on transportation policy.”

“But he’s just a professor. Nobody cares
about academics and who reads his books? It’s not as if he’s Karl Lagerfeld.”

“Who?”

She sighed. “Todd, there is a deep
divide between us and I sometimes despair that you will ever transcend your
heterosexuality. Sometimes I think you don’t even try.”

“I don’t want to transcend my
heterosexuality. Talking to you is impossible.”

“I am a delightful conversationalist,”
she said. Even talking to Eugenia was more fun than talking to Todd. “I’ve got
the kettle on. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

She didn’t miss him.

She made her last call of the night to
her mother. They chit-chatted casually about the weather and acquaintances. Her
mother pointedly did not ask about Eugenia, so
Nancy
said, “Will you be home Saturday
afternoon? I promised Eugenia that she could meet
Willoughby
.”

“He’s been a little wild lately.”

“We won’t take him out in the cart. We’ll
just feed him apples and stick daisies in his mane.”

“I’ll be here in the afternoon.”

Nancy
did the math: 30 minutes to get to the
restaurant, plus 90 minutes prep, plus 120 minutes commuting back and forth to
her parents, plus 60 minutes of visiting, plus 60 minutes for exigencies. “We’ll
be there just after 1:00.”

 
Nancy
spent Friday
cheerfully working on the fundraiser. GP had sent her the prices of renting the
sets, costumes, and entertainers, and Mrs. Friendly was happy with the proposal.
Nancy
sent a
copy of the insurance contract to the warehouse lease agent and began writing
up her detailed plan. The graphic designer dropped by and was thrilled with the
piratey theme.

Bailey called in the late afternoon and
told
Nancy
he
had made dinner reservations at seven.

Nancy
glanced at Eugenia, who was sprawled on
the rug with her primitive drawings and meager possessions scattered around her.
“I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

“You aren’t trying to hide some secret
lover from me, are you? That would wreck me.”

“If I told you, he wouldn’t be a secret.
See you tomorrow.”

After
Nancy
hung up, she realized that she needed a
child car seat. She knew where to buy antique French ribbon, the Australian
edition of Vogue,
Limoges
vegetables, and other essential things. “Derek, would you please find someplace
that sells car seats? I need one that won’t clash with my Mini. Please have the
store deliver it by noon tomorrow, no later.”

After several phone calls, Derek put
down the phone and said, “I found a German model with excellent safety ratings,
but no one can guarantee that you’ll get it by noon.”

Nancy
took her eyes from the television which
was soundlessly playing a puppet show. One of the puppets would have made an
amusing fake fur bolero. “I suppose you’ll have to go pick it up,” she told
Derek. “You can use my car.”