Read Nancy’s Theory of Style Online
Authors: Unknown
“Not yet. He says it would be enabling Birdie’s
irresponsibility, so we can’t do anything.”
“That might be appropriate if Birdie was
a heroin addict, but there is another person to consider in this situation.”
“Eugenia.”
“No, me. You keep working on Uncle
Robert and I’ll see if I can find child care. Do you think you could contribute
toward this?”
“You do get that apartment rent-free,
Nanny.”
“All right, fine.”
Nancy
didn’t know what child care would cost,
but she did something she very rarely did: call her father at work.
His long-time assistant answered. “Julian
Carrington’s office.”
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Hello, Carolyn.”
“No, it’s me, Nancy. Who’s Carolyn? May
I please speak to my father?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. I don’t
know what I was thinking. I swear my mind is going. I apologize. Please forget
that I got so confused. Just a moment and I’ll see if he can talk.”
Nancy
thought her apology was excessive, but
her father preferred his assistants to be obsequious.
There was a click on the line, and
Julian said, “
Nancy
!
To what do I owe the honor?”
“Hi, Dad, I hate to bother you at work,
but there is this urgent matter. Birdie wrote from
Greece
. She wasn’t clear on when
she’ll be back, and I’ve taken it upon myself to provide childcare for Eugenia
as a family responsibility.”
“That’s a welcome change from your usual
attitude. Caring for a child is one of life’s great rewards.”
Nancy
remembered how her father always came
to say goodnight to her when he finally returned from work in the evenings. “You
can say that because I was a delightful child.”
“Actually, Nanny…”
“But let’s not talk about me. Uncle
Robert refuses to contribute to the care of his granddaughter. There’s food,
clothes, crayons, pirate shirts, a car seat and whatever a daycare costs until
Birdie comes home again. It all adds up.”
She expected him to offer to transfer
funds into her checking account.
Instead he said, “You’re a married
woman, now, Nancy, and we’ve provided you with more than enough to cover a
child’s expenses for a short time.”
“Yes, but my cash flow is tied up in
Froth right now and I’d prefer not to withdraw from my shared account with Todd.
Also, that awful house is still a drain on my income—”
“Who is responsible for that?”
“Todd was the one who—”
“Todd was the one who tried to work with
your exorbitant plans,” Julian said. “Times have changed, the world has
changed, and we all have to make adjustments. That includes you. Is there
anything else?”
She resented the way he spoke to her,
but a lady didn’t rebuke her father so she said calmly, “Mom seems really tired
every time I see her.”
Julian sighed. “You know how she lets
her nerves get the best of her, even though someone’s always helping around the
house. I’ve got another call coming in. Bye, Nanny.”
Chapter 15: The Timeless Charm of Classics
Sloane got back to
Nancy
that afternoon. “I have wonderful news.
There’s a temporary opening at
Three
Bridges
Pre-school
,
which is only a few blocks from the Chateau. One of their children is going for
a month abroad with his family. It’s a terrific school and I told them how invested
you are in progressive care for the whole child.”
Nancy
didn’t know what that meant, but said,
“Yes, that’s right. The whole child, very progressive.”
“They can see you and Eugenia there
tomorrow at ten. That way you can observe a regular morning.”
“Fantastic. I will take the whole child
there.”
After Sloane had given
Nancy
the address and contact information,
Nancy
said, “Thanks for helping, Sloane. I wouldn’t have known where to begin.”
“I’m glad you came to me. It must be a
treat to spend time with Eugenia, since your sisters’ families live so far away.
How are your sisters?”
Nancy
hadn’t talked to them in months. “They’re
wonderful. Once my schedule lets up, I’m definitely going to see them. I’ll
give you a report back on our visit to the pre-school.”
Nancy
was sitting on her bed thinking about
the complications of family when Eugenia came running in brandishing a
cardboard sword.
“Look what Derek made!”
Nancy
saw the glee in the
little girl’s face and shouted, “Oh, no, a pirate’s in my room!” and started
running.
Eugenia chased her and soon they tumbled
laughing on top of the bed.
Nancy
stroked the girl’s fine brown hair and inhaled her clean child’s scent and
said, “Guess what? We’re looking at a school tomorrow.”
“Are you coming?”
“I’m coming with you to look at the
school. We’ll meet the children and decide if we like them or if they should
walk the plank.”
“And sharks will eat them!”
“And crocodiles,”
Nancy
said. “Now you have to play quietly so
Derek and I can do our work.”
When five p.m. came, Derek put on his
jacket and said, “
Prescott
is making dinner.”
“I’ll walk you out,”
Nancy
said, thinking that maybe they could
share a friendly kiss on the stairs.
“Me, too.” Eugenia got up off the floor
and picked up her sword.
They walked down the stairs together,
and the adults kept the conversation businesslike. When they reached the lobby,
the front door opened and Miss Binky Winkles tottered in lugging a bag of
groceries.
Derek quickly went forward, saying,
“Allow me to take that for you, Madame.”
“It’s Miss, young man. I’m still
available.”
He laughed as if it was funny, and
Nancy
pasted a smile on
her face and said, “Good evening, Miss Winkles.”
“Hello to you, Girl Carrington. Introduce
your friends.”
“Miss Winkles, this is Derek Cathcart,
my assistant, and this is Eugenia, my niece.”
Miss Winkles took a long look at Derek,
then Eugenia, who was still holding her sword. “She’s one of your sisters’
daughters?”
“No, she’s Roberta’s daughter.”
“Oh, that one! Well, she’s got her
mother’s looks. Let’s hope she’s got more—”
“Miss Winkles,”
Nancy
cut in. “Would you like Derek to help
you take your groceries up?”
“Yes. What did you say your full name
was, young man?” Miss Winkles asked as she went to the elevator and pushed the
call button.
“Derek Cathcart.”
“Where are your people from?”
“
England
.”
“Hmm, you’re sure you’re not from around
here?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he said.
“You’re the spitting image of my
sister’s beaux. A handsome devil that one. A flim-flam man and a terrible
womanizer. His name was Tom Drexler, or Dave Drexler, something like that. Do
you have a grandfather by that name?”
“Not on my father’s side, Miss Winkles,
and my mother was adopted, so we don’t know that side of the family history.”
As Derek and the old woman got in the
elevator, Eugenia slipped in with them.
Nancy
heard her say, “I want to push the button!” as the doors closed.
Nancy
went to her apartment and waited for
Derek to bring Eugenia back. Twice she went to the front door. Then she put
away the girl’s toys and papers and polished the dining room table.
She was vacuuming so she didn’t hear
them come back in.
“Bye, Derek,” Eugenia said. She closed
the door and skipped into the living room.
“Where have you been all this time?”
“Miss Winkles has a spyglass! She can
see pirate boats from her house.”
“It’s an apartment, not a house,”
Nancy
said. She’d always
wanted to see it. “What does it look like?”
Eugenia pursed her lips in concentration.
“It has lots of things all over and lots of pic-tures, but not as pretty as the
one of Mama. Can we put it on the wall?”
“Uhm, I don’t know that it really goes
with any of my things.”
“I want to look at Mama!”
Half an hour and many tears and
high-pitched screams later,
Nancy
propped the painting at the back of her closet where Eugenia could see it at night.
Birdie’s green eyes stared at her, bold and sensual, from between the formerly
perfect racks of clothes.
When
Nancy
finally tucked Eugenia in that night,
she felt as worn out as she had after an argument with Todd, but much more
forgiving. She said to the girl, “A lady does not throw temper tantrums. I want
you to be on your best behavior tomorrow when we visit the school, okay?”
“Okay. Night, Auntie Nanny,” Eugenia
said and reached up and gave
Nancy
a kiss on her cheek.
“Goodnight, baby,”
Nancy
said and kissed the child’s forehead. She
glanced up and saw Birdie’s self-satisfied gaze staring out from the painting.
Nancy
’s phone rang late that night. She
glanced at the incoming number and saw that it was Bailey. A gentleman did not
request booty calls, so she didn’t answer. He left a message asking her to go
out on Wednesday.
However, Wednesday was not a significant
date night, and
Nancy
had already arranged to see Milagro. A lady did not cancel on girlfriends to go
out with a man.
On Tuesday,
Nancy
put on her pre-school interview
clothes: a gray and ivory thin knit cardigan, skinny black cords, and ebony
ballet flats with ivory ribbon trim.
Derek arrived as she was telling
Eugenia, “If you wear that shirt, people will think you’re a boy.”
“I want to wear my skull shirt!”
“How are you this morning, Mrs.
Carrington-Chambers?”
“I feel like I’m trying to wrestle
snakes into tube socks,” she said. “I’m suffering from caffeine withdrawal.”
“I can help with that.” He smiled at her
and said, “You look full of mischief today.”
She said, “I’m ready to play on the
swings if they have a set. I have excellent technique.”
“I hope you can demonstrate later.”
Eugenia took advantage of
Nancy
’s momentary
distraction to grab the skull and crossbones shirt, run into the bathroom and
slam the door.
Nancy
went after her saying, “Eugenia
whatever-your-middle-name-is Carrington, come out of there this minute!” and
she could hear Derek laughing as he went into the kitchen. “It’s not funny!”
she called to him, but she was smiling.
At 10 AM Nancy arrived at the preschool,
which was only a few blocks from her apartment, with a child wearing a
skull-and-crossbones shirt and a purple, pink, and silver lamé cape. She didn’t
have to look at the address to know she was at the right place. She could hear
the nerve-rattling children’s voices from the sidewalk.
Three
Bridges
Pre-School
was in a renovated one-story building with half-barrel planters of lettuces,
sweet peas, and pansies out front.
Nancy
rang the doorbell and a middle-aged woman with cropped gray hair came to the
door and said hello. She had that no-makeup and Levi’s jeans look that
Nancy
associated with
people who went camping and made their own bread.
“Hello, I’m Nancy Carrington-Chambers
and I have an appointment with the director.”
“Hello,
Nancy
. I’m Madeline Kanbar.” She shook hands
and then bent to say, “You must be Eugenia.”
“Hello.”
“You can call me Mrs. Kanbar. Please
come in.”
Mrs. Kanbar led them on a tour of the
preschool, showing them the art, music, cooking, reading, and nap areas.
Nancy
was impressed with
the extensive collection of dress-up clothes and spotted a Pucci scarf on a hat
rack. The backyard had a jungle gym, tricycles, toys, and benches and tables.