Nancy’s Theory of Style (6 page)

The tall, dark-haired man walked into
the room wearing a windowpane suit in charcoal with a chalk line in the
subtlest lavender, and a lavender shirt. She’d dreamed of meeting a man who
could wear a windowpane pattern with élan. When she tore her eyes from his
clothes, she noticed that he had a very interesting and attractive angular face
and deep blue eyes.

“Good afternoon, I’m Derek Cathcart,” he
said with an English accent.

“I’m Nancy Carrington-Chambers.”

As they shook hands, she saw that his
nails were clean and buffed. He smelled subtly of something woodsy and
masculine. He wore his straight, espresso-dark hair and sideburns long, but
beautifully cut -– too beautifully for a straight man.

Her heart leapt with hope. “Please have
a seat, Derek,” she said, indicating the chair opposite hers.

He sat down and crossed one long leg
over the other at the knee. He glanced around the room and then he caught sight
of the arrangement of blue carnations and Mylar balloons that she’d set on a
side table.

Nancy
said, “Your suit…how it suits you.”

“Thank you,” he said simply.

“Please tell me a little about yourself
and your experience as an assistant.”

“I’ve been in service for over ten years.
I was the assistant to a gentleman, managing staff, arranging travel, and
attending to his scheduling, including those matters which required the utmost
discretion.”

Nancy
thought his pronunciation of
scheduling, schejooling, made it sound more sophisticated. His voice was as
mellifluous as a character on a British historical drama, the kind where
everyone is always running to the haberdashery for new ribbons to trim a
bonnet.

“While I cannot disclose my former
employer’s identity…”

“Is he a royal?”
Nancy
asked.

Derek smiled slightly and then said, “Mr.
Chambers has spoken with the gentleman and received a letter of recommendation.”

“It’s a pity that Mr. Chambers is
staying in our home in the hinterlands, because he could certainly do with a
man of your skills,”
Nancy
said. “This is a three-month assignment and your primary responsibility will be
helping me plan parties, receptions, and weddings. I need someone who is detail
oriented and able to get along with a variety of people.”

“I strive to treat all with respect,
from the humblest chambermaid or stable boy to the most honored and titled
members of society.”

Her heart, already aloft, danced like a
kite in a spring breeze. “I may also need someone to assist me with a writing
project.”

“This would be no hardship, Madame, as I
am an experienced scrivener.”

She knew she should ask more questions
and check his other references, but she was suddenly terrified that he’d be
snatched away by some vulgar arriviste who’d parade him around like a prize. Still,
she had to be sure that he was the real deal.

She asked, “How do you like the
carnations and balloons?”

He squared his shoulders and gazed into
her eyes. “Mrs. Carrington-Chambers, I do not wish to offend you, but they look
like a dog’s dinner.”

“You don’t offend me in the least, Derek.
In fact, I’d like to offer you the position. If you’d like the job, when can
you start? Do we have to submit a request?”

“Mr. Chambers authorized the employment agency
to handle the paperwork, and I can start immediately,” he said, thereby
fulfilling her girlhood dream of having a gay, English assistant.

Nancy
spent the rest of the afternoon in an
ecstasy of efficiency. She showed Derek how to operate the espresso maker and he
caught on immediately. He seemed impressed by the contents of her refrigerator.

“Such an impressive array of beverages,”
he’d said while observing the neat rows of bottled waters, the glass bottle of organic
low-fat milk, and the lemons and limes in her fridge.

“Thank you. You can have as much water
as you like, and I’ve got it in still and sparkling from several different
countries. I only buy the ones in attractive bottles because that improves the
whole water drinking experience, don’t you think?”

“Unquestionably.”

“I’m doing clear bottles this month, but
sometimes I like green bottles, and the frosted glass ones are fab. You’ll have
to stock them for me.”

“Your palate must be extremely refined
to distinguish between so many varieties.”

“Yes, but it’s not just about taste. It’s
about purpose. For example, I think it’s really important to drink Russian
water when recovering from a vodka hangover. I believe in committing to a theme.”

“Exceedingly admirable,” he said.

“I love placing the round little bottles
by those with elongated shapes. I know everyone raves about metal canisters
being more ecological, but I find that metal tastes metallic.”

Nancy
showed Derek her intricate system for
party planning. She was impressed when he caught on quickly to her
spreadsheets.

“See, when everything balances at the
end of the column, it gets highlighted in hyacinth, because the color is like a
special treat. My father always says that if you take care of your pennies,
your dollars will take care of themselves. Or, as you would say, if you take
care of your pences, your pounds will take care of themselves.”

“Thank you for the translation, Mrs.
Carrington-Chambers. You make me feel so welcome in your country.”

And though he looked solemn, she thought
she detected some humor in his voice, so she smiled and said, “Enough hard work
for now. I’ve got a stack of all the latest bridal magazines and I want you to
go through them page by page and give me your overall impressions on critical trends
for lace and veils.”

Derek had a look on his face that
Nancy
could only describe
as abject gratitude. “Certainly, Madame.”

“I’ve got to work on the final details
for a birth-, a party I’m organizing for Gigi Barton. It’s not a birthday
party, because Gigi claims she doesn’t age. Have you heard of her?”

“Is she from the Bartons of Dalek Park
in Scaro?”

Nancy
wondered if she should have heard of
Dalek
Park
.
“She’s one of the tissue paper Bartons. ‘It’s not worth sneezing at if it’s not
Barton’s tissue!’ Of course, their real fortune was made in toilet paper. This
will be a giant, grown-up slumber party. It’s this Saturday night and I hope
you’re available to help.”

“Certainly, Madame.”

She put a stack of wedding magazines in
front of Derek and said, “Derek, I think it would be great if you did a collage
of wedding trends, don’t you? I like to be able to see things. But don’t
restrict yourself to just veils. If you see something else that looks fabulous,
include it!” She gave him a poster board, scissors and a glue stick and set him
to work.

He took a different approach than
Nancy
would have, cutting
out pictures in semi-circles and laying them edge to edge. But when he was
done, he’d created a mosaic of whites, ivories, creams, and blush colors.

Nancy
propped the board up on the bookshelves
and inspected it. “You have incredible instincts, Derek. One suggestion, though.
Don’t be quite so safe. After all, good taste is not style.”

“I shall bear that in mind, Madame.”

As soon as Derek left,
Nancy
admired the collage again and felt a
thrill. It had been a test to make sure she could trust his sense of
aesthetics, and he’d passed superbly. She even sensed that he’d been holding
back on his own artistic style.

Nancy
called her freshman roommate, Milagro,
and asked her to dinner, saying, “I have news for you, but you must promise not
to get gloaty.”

“That is so unfair, because I rarely get
to gloat over you. However, I promise. Tell me now.”

“Patience is the virtue of the artist
formerly known as the artist formerly known as Prince.”

“I thought it was promptness.”

“Be on time then.”

Chapter 4: Matching the Outfit to the Occasion

Nancy
thought it was exciting to be friends
with someone completely outside her set, because she could say things she never
would say to her sorority sisters. Milagro was from some godforsaken suburb
called El or La or San something and had intriguingly appalling opinions,
including a pathological hatred of Todd.

They met at a Japanese restaurant and jazz
club in the Fillmore. Milagro, a stunning, curvaceous
Latina
, was wearing a snug black cotton
sweater, a leopard print miniskirt, and black boots.

 
“Milagro,
hon, que sera sera!”
Nancy
said and the friends exchanged kisses. “I am so loving the cat woman vibe.”

“Que sera, yourself, Nancita,” Milagro
said as they followed the hostess to their table. “Are you coming to the show
with me after dinner?”

“You know that jazz puts me into a
parabolic trooper.”

“I suspect that it’s the sake shooters
that put you in a catatonic stupor,” Milagro said.

Nancy
reached into her bag and took out the
book she’d bought for her friend. “This is for you, although I don’t know if I
should be encouraging you.”

“Eccentric Glamour! Thank you,
Nancy
. I shall study it
like the Dead Sea Scrolls for spiritual guidance.”

While they ordered,
Nancy
looked around the restaurant. She loved
sushi because it was as delicious as it was attractive, but even more she liked
the simple elegance of the restaurant. There were pale birch tables and
bleached floors. She could see exactly what the chefs were doing, so there was
no chance of anyone spitting into her food if she complained.

The waiter left and
Nancy
said, “The minor news is, and remember
no gloating, that I’m taking a break from Le Todd.”

Milagro’s dark brown eyes widened and
then she slipped her hand briefly over
Nancy
’s.
“I won’t gloat, but it would be nice if you never go back to him.”

“Everyone hearts Todd, but you, and your
dislike is based on politics, my loony lefty pal.”

“Not entirely! He repels me in myriad
ways.”

Nancy
held up her hand, palm outward. “Do not
go into specifics. I heart Todd, and Todd hearts me.”

“You’ve been defensive about your
relationship with him since frosh year, and I don’t know if you actually heart
him, or merely say that.”

“Neither do I,”
Nancy
admitted. “My antipathy for the house
is so overwhelming that I can’t tell how I feel about Todd anymore. I’m hoping
the time apart will give me a little clarity.”

“I hope so, too, Nancy-fancypants,”
Milagro said. “How is Miss Winkles?”

“As iridescent as ever,”
Nancy
said and shared a
smile with her friend. “Now for my news. You will never guess what I have!”

“A venereal disease? The Holy Grail?”

“Ewh to the first, but the Holy Grail
would look fab on my mantle,” she said. “I have a gay English assistant named Derek!”

“You unspeakable bitch! I yearn for a
gay English assistant – but named Trevor, or maybe Clive. Is he fabulous?”

“You think anyone in possession of a
penis is fabulous and, yes, he’s completely fabulous. He was wearing a shirt
the same color as the wisteria on my Aunt Frilly’s arbor. He calls me Mrs.
Carrington-Chambers in a way that makes me feel very Madame de Pompadour.”

“Your head has sometimes resembled a
giant puffball, but I thought it was impolite to say anything.”

“Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson was the
King’s mistress and the greatest fashionista of her time, including her hair,
you hysterical dance.”

“Historical dunce?”

“Heretically dense. I wish there were
more kings around these days.”

“There is a surfeit of queens, and it
sounds as if you’ve got one of your own. How are you going to pay him? I
thought your money was controlled by your father slash trustee, who is fab, but
notably deficient of frivolousness.”

“Alas, the frivolous gene is recessive. Todd
is gifting the assistant to me!”

“Toad?” Milagro said. “Why would he do
that?”

“He’s trying to support Froth. You
always think the worst of him and that’s why I’m always defensive about him
with you.”
Nancy
sighed. “Do you think I’ve overreacted to that house?”