Nancy’s Theory of Style, page 14
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.”
“But, Madame…”
“Or else you can stay here with Eugenia,” Nancy said. “I can’t take her with me to buy a car seat without a car seat.”
He looked as if he had been given a choice between drowning or hanging. Finally he said, “It’s not far. We could all walk there and use the car seat in a taxi on the way back.”
“I want to go with Derek!” Eugenia said.
Nancy looked at the girl’s expectant face. “Okay, we’ll all go.”
Chapter 12: Tips for Shopping Success
It was a pleasant walk to Laurel Village, a neighborhood of shops and cafes. When Eugenia began lagging, Derek swung her up and onto his shoulders. “Hold on!”
Nancy had noticed that when she walked with her fabulous assistant and her puny ward people smiled at them and said hello. She pretended to be equally impressed with their grimy spawn in label-laden clothing.
“Have you noticed how friendly people are when you have a child?” she asked Derek, who still had the little girl on his shoulders, her small head resting atop his.
“I have observed that.”
“They seem to think that capitulating to a biological imperative makes them all so very special.”
As always, you are right, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers.”
“Still, it’s rather nice when people are nice. I’m all for niceness. What about you?”
“I appreciate it when it is directed toward me.”
“Well, who wouldn’t be nice to you? You’re so agreeable and gracious. I’m sure no one ever gets angry with you.”
His face was averted but she caught that intriguing smirk again. “You would be shocked, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers.”
“I’ll never ever get angry with you.” Nancy teased, expecting him to respond quickly, but he was quiet. “Will I?”
“When that time comes, and it is inevitable, I think I shall be very disappointed in myself.”
“Who’s exaggerating now?” Nancy asked. “I’m not going to ask if I’ll ever make you angry because I know I will. Todd shouts and says I’m impossible. Then he goes to a sports bar. How will you show your anger? Will you flare up, or will you smolder?”
Eugenia was playing slipping her fingers through Derek’s espresso dark hair. “Mama yells and throws things at the fireplace. She broke a pitcher.”
“Pic-ture,” Nancy corrected.
“She broke a pic-ture and the vodka got all over.”
“Your mother is very emotional,” Nancy said. “Don’t take it personally.”
“What?” Eugenia said.
“Your mother is a very yell-y person, like that dog in the park was barking and barking because he thinks barking is fun. Your mother yells because she thinks yelling is fun. It’s not your fault, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Just remember, dogs like to bark, fish like to swim, Birdie likes to yell.”
“That sounds like a song,” Derek said and began singing, “Bugs like to bite, cars like to go.”
Nancy sang, “Princesses like things pink, flowers like to grow…Your turn, Eugenia!”
“Cows like to moo.”
Derek grinned and said, “Nancy likes fine fashion, Eugenia likes her cape.”
“Derek likes…” Nancy began and then wondered, what did Derek like? “…pirate ships, my mother likes handbags…”
They found the children’s store and bought a child seat. “This store is for babies,” Eugenia said in disgust. “I’m not a baby.”
“There are things here for non-babies,” Nancy said. “Shopping is like hunting. You have to be patient and look carefully at everything.” They found Lego’s, colored chalk, and a book about farm animals.
When Nancy discovered haute couture paper dolls, she was ecstatic. “Oh, my, god, they’ve got every decade, from the Belle Époque to the ‘90s! Lanvin, Schiaparelli, Ungaro, Worth, Ricci!” She grabbed one of each set.
When she went to pay, the clerk said, “Your little girl is very lucky.”
“Oh, she’s not mine,” Nancy said. “She was left on my doorstep like a stray cat.”
The clerk’s expression froze and Eugenia said, “I’m not a cat. I’m a pirate.”
Nancy smiled nervously and said, “It’s a family joke. She’s a pirate. She’s sailed her ship into our waters. Yo ho ho!”
Derek lugged the seat around as they stopped in the nearby children’s boutiques. Nancy steered Eugenia toward the racks of darling clothes, but the girl grabbed a boy’s shirt with a skull and crossbones and wouldn’t let go. “It’s for our pirate party! You said, yo ho ho!”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Nancy said. “But only this once because it is a special occasion.”
The only other shop Eugenia liked was the ribbon shop, where she picked out several lengths of ribbon and said, “This is for when we make my cape.”
“Excellent planning, Eugenia,” Nancy said.
Derek hailed a cab and tried to figure out how to put the child seat in the back. The cabbie got out and came around to help, saying, “I got three kids myself. How come you don’t know how to use a car seat for your little girl?”
“She’s not my---” Derek began and then he glanced at Eugenia. Then he said, “She’s not a little girl. She’s a pirate. Yo ho ho.”
The cabbie shook his head and strapped in the seat, picked up Eugenia, placed her in it, and secured the seatbelt. “Ahoy, matey,” he said.
“You speak pirate very well,” Nancy said as she slid in the back seat and told him her address.
“Why didn’t you just say Chateau Winkles?” the cabbie said. “How’s Miss Winkles?”
“As captivating as ever.” To Derek, Nancy said, “It’s a nickname for the building.”
When they got to the apartment, the trio went to the garage and Derek wrangled the car seat in Nancy’s Mini.
“You have a toy car!” Eugenia said excitedly.
“Yes, I guess I do.” To Derek she said, “I’m reevaluating my hatred of minivans.”
“Can we go to dinner in your car?” asked Eugenia.
“We have macaroni and cheese for dinner.” Nancy waited for the argument. But Eugenia sagged like a badly made soufflé and stared at the cement floor. “We also have cinnamon graham crackers. Yum, graham crackers! We can play with our fashion dolls.”
Eugenia was not tempted by these delectable treats.
“May I suggest an evening of movies and take-away at home?” Derek said, happily surprising both of his female companions.
“A pirate movie?” Eugenia asked.
Nancy was so excited about spending the evening with Derek that she ordered a pizza on the phone. “They always taste like their cardboard delivery box, but just this once since it’s a special occasion.”
While they were waiting for the pizza, Derek dashed to the nearby video store and came back with four pirate movies. “I took longer because I stopped at the wine shop,” he said and handed Nancy a bottle of Barbaresco. “The shopkeeper assured me that it suits a pizza dinner.”
Nancy and Eugenia had set places out on the cocktail table, “like a picnic,” Nancy said.
Nancy opened the wine and they watched “The Pirates of the Caribbean.” Eugenia sat between the adults and ducked her head toward one or the other of them during the scary scenes. “We can skip this part,” Nancy said, but Eugenia wanted to listen.
The girl fell asleep half-way through the movie, and Nancy turned down the sound. “Johnny Depp is so sexy, don’t you think?”
“Uhm, even in this film?”
“Oh, yes! That black guyliner is devastating. Have you ever worn it?”
“Guyliner? No.”
“It would look fabulous on you. So would an eye patch. You’ve already got that mysterious look about you. Sometimes I want to do my eyes up with really thick black makeup.”
“Like a pirate?”
“Yes, like a pirate wench. I would wear a ruffled blouse open to my belly button, breaches and a cuffed leather boots.”
The girl sleeping between them tilted against Derek’s chest. He said, “Where do you think her mother is?”
