Nancy’s Theory of Style (47 page)

“You’ll have to consult with GP,” Mrs.
Friendly said.

GP grinned. “We bought the warehouse and
we’re going in on a
Barbary Coast
theme park
and museum shop together. We can offer permanent jobs as part of our work
training program and give visitors a taste of history, too.”

“Our museum society will have a gift
shop,” Mrs. Friendly said. “Proceeds go to the museum. Bailey Whiteside said he
was interested in participating.”

Rick looked away at the view, and
Nancy
decided that
honesty was more important than being polite. “Mrs. Friendly, you should be
very careful before going into any business venture with Bailey.”

Now the old red-headed woman laughed
until she coughed.
Nancy
jumped up to pour a glass of water for her from a carafe on a table. When Mrs.
Friendly caught her breath, she said, “Little miss, Dancing Dog Jamieson’s
blood runs through my veins, so Whiteside is the one who better keep his senses
about him and a tight grip on his wallet!”

Nancy and Rick returned to the apartment
and so she could find out how to get the Mini back. She’d found out that it had
been towed to a long-term storage lot, but that she couldn’t retrieve it since
it was in Todd’s name.

She went to the bedroom and closed the
door and she called her husband. “Hi, Todd.”

“Nance,” he said carefully.

“I need to get the Mini, but the city
won’t release it to me since the registration is under your name. Will you
please call one of your friends and get authorization stat?” She told him the
phone number of the storage lot.

“Sure,” he said. “So how are you?”

“Good,” she said. “Really good. How are
you?”

“Good.”

“So Junie…”
Nancy
said. “She’s always been crazy about
you.”

“I feel the same way about her.”

Nancy
felt so melancholy suddenly. “Todd, why
didn’t we figure out years ago that we were wrong for each other? Why did we
have to hurt each other?”

He was silent and then said, “We were
good on paper, hon.”

“Your name hyphenated beautifully with
mine. I’ll miss it.”

“Will you miss me?” he asked.

“Who knows? Once our attorneys hash out
the details, including our shared bank account and the money you spent on your
love nest, it’s possible that we can be better friends than we were spouses…but
not for a while,” she said.

Todd laughed his har-har-har laugh and
she realized that it wasn’t a bray, but an honest good-natured laugh.

“Let’s check back in a year,” he said.

“It’s a deal. Return the money to our
account and I’ll tell you something worthwhile.”

“Your lawyer would get it out of me
anyway, so, sure.”

“Do an in-depth examination of all the
records for the sports medicine clinics. Your might discover that Bailey hasn’t
been such a good friend after all.”

“Thanks, Nance. You know, since we know
each other so well, we might make good allies.”

“You’re still a student of Sun Tzu,” she
said and laughed. “So am I.”

Eugenia talked and sang to Blackbeard,
mewing in his cat carrier, on the winding road to Stinson. They arrived at the
house as the sun was setting low in the sky. “Hurry!” Eugenia shouted, and Rick
got out of the Mini and unbuckled her from the child seat. He carried the cat
carrier and
Nancy
and the child grabbed bags and took them into the house.

They left the bags and ran out to the
beach.

“Let’s race,” Eugenia shouted and she
ran across the sand in her red tennis shoes.

Rick and Nancy held hands as the
followed, slow enough so that the girl reached the edge of the waves first. “I
win!” she said laughing as the wind whipped her shining hair over her eyes. “Make
a wish.”

The faced west, watching the sun’s last
rays turn the ocean a shimmery gold.

Nancy
took the girl’s hand so they were all
linked. “I wish we will always be as happy as we are now,” she said.

“Me, too,” Rick and Eugenia said
together.

Rick made dinner, just spaghetti, but
Eugenia and her aunt agreed it was the best spaghetti they’d ever had. Afterward,
he and Nancy sat on the floor in front of the fireplace while Eugenia played
with her cat, her books and her toys. They listened to waves crashing and the
wind gusting outside.

Nancy
leaned back into Rick’s arms and said,
“I don’t know how I’ll feel about you if you’re a tycoon.”

“How will you feel about me if I’m an
unemployed dude who’s discovered a taste for expensive coffee drinks, fine
clothes?”

“I’d be happy you’d have so much time to
spend with me. What will you do if you are a Friendly?”

“I will try to act friendly. Also, I’ll
ask to see the ninjas.”

“Fabulous. What next?”

“I’ll help my mother move to be with
Peter’s family. I’d like to have a family, too, and I’ve been thinking about
marrying a glamorous divorcee with a wonderful child,” he said. “Money’s a
problem. She’s used to a lavish life, and I can’t support that. We will have to
survive on love and tap water.”

“I can do that if you’re willing to.”

“I may require the occasional pizza.” More
seriously, he said, “I’m sorry you’re losing everything.”

“Who said I’m losing anything?”

He looked puzzled. “The pre-nup. You
won’t get any-thing from your marriage.”

She burst out laughing, and he said,
“What’s so funny?”

“How much do you know about me and my
family?”

“Besides the fact that they’ve got
neurotic, upper-class problems? Nothing.”

“That’s because my father pays a public
relations firm to keep our names out of the paper,” she said. “The pre-nup was
to protect my money.”

“So you have money?”

“Poodles of it. Not mere teacup poodles,
but double lattes of it.”

“I feel dumber, but less guilty,” he
said. “However, I’m not going to be a gigolo, no matter how much you treat me
like a mere sex object.”

“We both have to work for many reasons,
not the least being that I love event planning. Things will be tied up for a
while with the divorce, and my father slash trustee is going to have a fit when
he learns about you.”

“I checked your voicemail and emails,”
Rick said. “You’ve got several requests for party planning. Gigi Barton wants
you to do an ‘Am I Too Delicious?’ intervention for her, and a parent at Three
Bridges wants to know if you’d like to sell your capes in her children’s
boutique.”

“That’s all very interesting, but I
couldn’t do any of it without an assistant. Do you know anyone qualified?”

“I might be available, but I’d require
free afternoons so I can make love to the woman I hope to marry.” His l’heure
bleue eyes looked into hers and happiness bloomed through her.

“You seem like an ideal candidate for a
permanent position.”

“I’m skilled in positions other than the
popular standards,” he said with a smirk. “The Rocketman Blastoff, the Inverse
Crab, the Flying Wallenda…”

She laughed and said, “If I hire you I
have to know, can Derek can come out every now and then?”

“I’m certain that we can sched-jool visits,
Miss Carrington,” he said in his Derek voice. He pushed her back to the rug and
kissed her.

Eugenia came to them, saying, “Me, too! Me,
too!”

Nancy and Rick put their arms around the
child and
Nancy
had another epiphany, a corollary to the first.

She had thought that if she was careful
and precise, if she planned everything, she would have a perfect life – as if
perfection was both possible and desirable. But true style was messy,
passionate, and often impulsive.

It was letting a strange child into your
life, falling in love with your assistant, using ancient military strategy,
trusting a history buff. It was grimy fingerprints, feral cats, sex in the
afternoon, and friends who forged letters and gossiped and babysat to help you.

It didn’t happen in total isolation, but
resulted when the right mix of people inspired each other in fabulous,
unexpected ways. The people could be a designer, a pattern-maker, and a model
muse.

Or they could be a finicky event
planner, an unemployed reporter, and a quirky pirate child.

Nancy
didn’t know what the future would
bring, but she didn’t need to try to control it anymore, and because now was
better than she ever could have planned or imagined.