Nancy’s Theory of Style, page 11
If Junie saw her with this tiny fashion disaster, she would lose all respect for Nancy. Nancy hefted Eugenia up so that the girl’s body hid her, and the red towel covered her face. She walked blindly ahead and Nancy thought they must be safe, when Eugenia cried, “Watch out, Auntie Nanny!”
Nancy peeked from behind the towel just as she was about to collide with an elderly woman. “Oh, sorry!”
At the moment that Nancy’s face was visible, Junie said, “Nancy!”
Nancy smiled and put the child down. “Oh, hi, Junie.”
Junie was dressed in a tailored gray pinstripe pantsuit. She and the boy stared with open curiosity at Eugenia.
“Junie, this is my cousin’s daughter, Eugenia. And your little friend…” She flashed a smile while looking at the prep school crest on his jacket.
“This is Fielding, my nephew,” Junie said, her soft voice almost blown away by the evening breeze. “We were just shopping for his little sister. What have you been doing?”
“We ate donuts,” Eugenia misinformed Junie. “Auntie Nanny spit her coffee and she has a whip.”
“Really?” Junie said, as she bent closer to the child. “What a bright cape. Did your Auntie Nanny make that for you?”
“No. Yannis took it from the hotel. He’s Mama’s new bedfriend and he has a beard and paints pichers of her fanny.”
“Really!”
Fielding frowned and said, “My father says that stealing from a hotel is wrong.”
“Your father sounds like a charming man,” Nancy said to the nascent bore. “Junie, it’s crazy that we haven’t been able to get together.”
“I know! I’m going back to the office after I take Fielding to his oboe lesson. But I’ll call you as soon as I have a free moment. I’m so concerned about you, especially with that photo going around.”
The friendly fire caught Nancy by surprise. “What photo?”
“The one from Gigi’s party of you collapsing,” she said. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe you haven’t seen it! Lizette sent it to me because she was so worried. Bill saw it on some site about, uhm, the city’s party girls.”
Nancy could have asked what Bill was doing on a party girl website, but Sun Tzu had advised that victory was more important than protracted battle. “Oh, that photo! My publicist said that I need to be edgier to promote Froth. I just assumed it wasn’t going to work. How fabulous that it’s being circulated.”
“So it was planted?”
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Nancy said with a smile. “It’s really ludicrous to pretend to be naughty, but it gives a girl cachet. Like that rumor about me and Lizette.”
“What rumor about you and Lizette?”
“Between us, that’s only part of the image branding,” Nancy said. “Although I do think she’s pretty and if I was going to, well… So wonderful to see you!”
“Oh,” Junie said, looking confused, while her puritanical ward shifted from foot to foot impatiently.
Nancy smiled. “My cousin will be coming by at any moment to pick up Eugenia, so we’ve got to dash. Ciao!” She took Eugenia’s hand and hurried down the street. She had to find that photo and see if there was any way of figuring out who had taken it and how to get rid of it.
Half-way back, Eugenia said, “I’m tired.”
“It’s only a little ways more,” Nancy said, but the child was lagging behind. “You shouldn’t be tired. You’re young. You should be bursting with energy.”
“I didn’t get my nap and last night Yannis and Mama kept yelling. My feet are sweaty.”
“Horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies merely glow.” Nancy felt as if she were towing the child whose steps got slower and slower. “All right, I’ll carry you, but only this time because it’s a special occasion.”
Nancy lifted the girl. She seemed very heavy for such a small person. The tiny hot arms around Nancy’s neck were choking her. Once they got to Chateau Winkles, Nancy said, “You have to walk up the stairs by yourself. Walking up stairs has all sorts of health and beauty benefits, which is why I always use stairs.”
The child stared at the steps and gripped Nancy’s neck tighter.
Nancy loudly exhaled and said, “Fine, we’ll take the elevator, but only because it’s a special occasion.”
Once inside the apartment, she looked at the clock. Einstein was so right about the relativity of time. One hour with Eugenia had seemed like five.
Nancy set the girl down on the sofa, and Eugenia flopped over bonelessly. Nancy put her hands on her hips and waited until she’d caught her breath. “Your posture is abominable. Let’s get these shoes off.”
When Nancy pulled off the galoshes she saw that the plastic shoes had rubbed large angry blisters on Eugenia’s bare feet. “You see, that’s why you should always buy the best shoes you can. It isn’t just looks – it’s the comfort and fit you get from well made…” Nancy said.
The girl curled up and closed her eyes.
Nancy untied the cape and then got a comforter and a pillow from the hall closet. By the time she put the pillow under the girl’s head, Eugenia was asleep.
Nancy got on the computer and did a search for “Nancy Chambers party girl.” She found the photo on a site called Decline and Fall Down of the Rich Bitches.
She felt sick when she saw the photo. She looked like a scabrous, beat-up smack addict taking a tumble, with one pink butt cheek visible in the shot. The heading said, “How the mighty (stuck-up) have fallen! Nancy Carrington Chambers in the dumps after being dumped by hawt hubby on the grounds of felony skankitude.”
It was awful, awful, and Nancy didn’t know what to do. She stared at the sea-green wall, overtaken by panic. Then a noise startled her. It was Eugenia shifting in her sleep. Nancy thought that when her cousin returned, she’d probably shove the galoshes back on the child’s feet and drag her out.
The sleeping girl barely flinched when Nancy used a sterilized needle to pierce the blisters. She drained them with cotton balls, dabbed antiseptic ointment on them, and then put Band-Aids over them. She tucked the comforter around the child.
Nancy’s phone rang and she ran to it, hoping it was Birdie.
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.”
“No need for you to read it since GP already knows about it. I’m meeting with the warehouse leasing agent this afternoon, and I’ll be starting my budget, although it all depends on whether GP can get the sets and costumes,” she said. “Eugenia, you study your books.”
