Nancy’s Theory of Style, page 28
Chapter 22: The 360 Degree Mirror
Nancy awoke feeling peaceful and rested. She turned and reached for Eugenia, but the child wasn’t there, and Nancy was on the floor of her closet.
Reality bitch-slapped her awake.
Birdie had kidnapped the pirate child. Nancy’s mother was an alcoholic, and her father was a control-freak and serial adulterer. Bailey and Junie had used her and could give her husband enough information to break the pre-nup, if his spy hadn’t already provided it. If Todd decided to trap her in their marriage, her parents would probably support him.
Because Nancy had approved the shenanigans at the gala, the event insurance would be voided, and she would be responsible for the damage to the warehouse.
Beautiful, fabulous Derek had never existed, only some angry, deceitful man named Rick who’d had sex with her so that he could betray her.
The prettiness of her life had been as false a façade as the sets within the warehouse.
Nancy finally had her epiphany: she couldn’t control everything around her and create a perfectly chic Fancy Nancy-land.
She picked up her phone and saw that she had 37 missed calls and 29 messages. None were from Birdie, and she deleted all but the frantic messages from GP. The first said, “Nancy, I’m so very sorry. Call me, please.” The second said, “Are you all right? I really talk to you about this. We can fix it.” The third said, “I’m going to fix it, Nancy, I promise. I hope you’re all right, but I understand if you don’t want to talk to me now.”
Dear, sweet GP. She’d deal with him later.
Now Nancy called her Aunt Frilly. “Aunt Frilly, I’ve got two important things to tell you. The first is that my mother’s drinking herself to death and needs help. The second is that Birdie abducted Eugenia last night.”
“Nancy, you’re being dramatic,” her aunt said in the same voice that Hester always said, lovely, lovely, lovely. “Your mother’s always liked a tipple to calm her nerves. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“She hides vodka in her closet. She passes out almost every afternoon. She’s not suffering from nerves. She’s suffering because my father blatantly cheats on her. That’s why my sisters moved away and never come home.”
Frilly was silent for so long that Nancy said, “Are you still there?”
“I’m still here. Why can’t you watch your mother, Nancy?”
“Because I’m going to hunt down Birdie and save Eugenia and our cat. Do you know where they are?”
“I didn’t even know Birdie was back.” Aunt Frilly sighed. “Nancy, it will do Eugenia more harm than good to be tossed back and forth between you and Birdie.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going to try to get legal custody of her.”
Frilly was silent for a minute and then she said, “You’ve always been my favorite, Nancy. Sissy’s coming down tomorrow. I’ll have her pick up your mother and I’ll look for a facility here. If you think it’s that serious.”
“It is. Please call me the instant you hear anything about Birdie.” Nancy put the phone down and was trying to think of her next step when the intercom buzzed and a man’s voice said, “Mrs. Chambers? Mrs. Chambers?”
Nancy peaked out the front curtains and saw a news van parked on the street. She didn’t answer the buzzer and in a minute another car arrived. The buzzer sounded repeatedly, but she didn’t answer.
Her phone rang and the I.D. indicated that it was her attorney so Nancy answered, “Hello.”
“Nancy, on last night’s news, the reporter mentioned your name in connection to a fire at a historical landmark,” Renee said.
“It was only a small fire at the party I organized for the Barbary Coast fundraiser and there’s a news van parked out front, but that’s the least of my worries. Todd offered to hire an assistant for my business, but the man he placed here really worked for a private investigator and was spying on me.”
Renee was silent for a moment and said, “Were you discreet with this employee?”
“Actually, I told him that I’d had an affair with a squeezel named Anthony Harper,” Nancy said. “Also, I had sex with the fake employee and let’s hope he didn’t get hidden videos. Go ahead and run my pre-nup through the shredder.”
“Good God,” Renee said. “Let’s not be precipitous. We need to talk about this and strategize.”
“Todd has out-strategized me, Renee, and I can’t talk right now because I have something more urgent. I need to get custody of my cousin’s daughter. Can you draw up papers for Roberta Willow Carrington to release her minor daughter, Eugenia Carrington, father unknown, to my guardianship?”
“You’re not in the position now to adopt—”
“I’ll double your hourly fee. Triple it. Whatever you want.”
Renee was quiet for a few seconds. “Your check for the retainer was returned for lack of funds.”
“That can’t be. I had more than enough in my personal account.”
“We submitted it twice,” she said. “Does Todd have access to it?”
“Not that one. I’ll find out what happened and get the money to you. But you’ve got to do this for me, please!”
“I’ll do it, but don’t tell anyone else what you just told me and don’t give any interviews. Bye.”
Nancy wasn’t concerned about the bounced check because she knew exactly how much money she had. She went to her computer and logged in at her bank’s site. She had a balance of thirty-nine dollars and seventy-four cents. She stared at the screen, thinking that more zeroes would appear beside the numbers or that she’d mistaken the decimal point.
Then she looked up the last transaction that had cleared. It was an outrageous sum for the art gallery where she’d broken the antique bowl when she last saw Anthony Harper.
She called the gallery and asked to speak to the owner.
“Hello, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers, so nice to hear from you.”
“Hello. I see you’ve cashed my check for the bowl.”
“I’m sorry for the delay in billing you, but since the bowl was for exhibit only, we had to request an insurance evaluation from the owner, who’s in Florence. Naturally, we included our commission in the total.”
“The amount was surprising.”
“It was a unique piece, as I recall hearing our friend, Anthony Harper, tell you,” he said in an oily voice. “However, if you would like to purchase an additional item, I would be happy to work out a discount for you and Mr. Chambers. Perhaps he enjoys beautiful things like Mr. Harper.”
Sun Tzu’s advice, like a muscle memory, came to Nancy and so she feigned disorder and set out bait for her extortionist. “Oh, please, don’t do that! Maybe you and I could meet and talk about buying something. I’ll call you soon.”
“I think that’s best, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers. Until then.”
Nancy would figure out how to crush him later.
Someone knocked on the apartment door. Nancy crept up to it and wished she’d had one of those tacky peepholes installed. She listened and another rap came at the door.
“Girl Carrington, open up.”
Nancy pulled open the door and Miss Winkles came in, looking around curiously.
Nancy became aware of the changes that had happened over the past two months. Eugenia’s drawings were propped on the mantle and toys were scattered around. Her pirate books and favorite DVDs were piled on the cocktail table. There were cup rings on surfaces and grimy little fingerprints. A blue and white cape was draped over the shredded arm of the sofa. A juice box was shoved between folders on the bookshelves.
“Quite a ruckus you’ve caused. This is a nice apartment,” Miss Winkles said. “I thought it would be frilly and pink. I saw the news last night. So Abigail is protected by ninjas. I always thought it was MI-5 because of that affair she had with, you know. Well, she was a tramp in those days…but we don’t have time to reminisce. Eugenia can stay with me while you sort things out, or buy people off like you Carringtons usually do.”
“Eugenia’s gone. Birdie took her last night. I don’t know where they are.” Nancy thought of the child waking up alone in hotel rooms, left at strangers’ homes, dragged to late-night parties by her mother and strange men.
“Oh, no!” Miss Winkles put her hand to her heart. “That poor child told me about life with that lousy excuse for a mother.”
“I have to get her back before Birdie ditches her again, or before anything happens to her, and then I’m going to try to get legal custody.”
Miss Winkles put her hand on Nancy’s arm. “Good girl. Now how are you going to find her?”
“I don’t know. Birdie could be anywhere. She’s got a new boyfriend and she always carries her passport. Aunt Frilly will call me if she hears anything.”
“What happened with Derek?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Make us a pot of tea and tell me,” Miss Winkles said. “Don’t look at me that way, Nancy. I know a thing or two and I might be able to help you. Otherwise, I might occupy myself by calling back the newswoman who wants to know more about my rich, irresponsible neighbor.”
Over a pot of bracing Scottish Breakfast, Nancy told her story to Miss Winkles. She didn’t exclude her own misdeeds, her sleazy liaison with Anthony, or her torrid affair with Derek.
“There were times when we were all together and we were so happy: the pirate girl, my gay English assistant slash lover, our feral kitten, and myself. At least I thought we were happy. Derek slash Rick hates me. He was probably revolted every time he touched me.”
“It’s been my experience that men don’t hate sex with pretty girls no matter how ridiculous the girls are.”
“That’s what you think. You didn’t hear the way he talked to me. I met his ex-girlfriend by accident. She’s a tall, busty, raven haired goddess, and here I am, flat and pale and puny.”
“There’s no accounting for taste and I saw the way Derek, or Rick, looked at you,” Miss Winkles said.
“You don’t seem surprised that he’s not English or gay.”
“His accent jumped around more than a Jack Russell and his vocabulary was a hoot. I assumed you were paying him to put on an accent and pretend to be gay.”
“Why in the world would I do that?”
“It’s exactly the sort of preposterous pretention that I’d expect from someone who married Todd Chambers.”
“I am not pretentious. I have standards.”
Miss Winkles laughed and said, “Like dating Bailey Whiteside when you had a gorgeous, wonderful man in your bed?”
“Derek, Rick, whoever, lied to me and spied on me and took advantage of me.”
“Your problem, Nancy, is that you are too picky. It’s the imperfections that make life interesting, and that man was a keeper. As for your cousin, you use your resources and I’ll use mine. Maybe we can find the Birdie that flew away.”
It was only when Miss Winkles had gone upstairs to her apartment that Nancy realized that the old woman had used her first name. It seemed like a hopeful sign and Nancy started calling hotels, restaurants and salons where Birdie might go. She called Sissy, got the names of some of Birdie’s old friends, and called or left messages for them.
The hours passed and the room grew dark. Nancy wanted to go out and do something, but she knew she had to stay where she was in case Birdie came back. She wondered if Eugenia had had her afternoon nap, or been given a snack, and a decent dinner.
More calls came, but she didn’t answer any but Milagro’s.
“Nancy Fancypants, I hear your party was a fiasco. Gigi said there was a wild fracas and ninjas, which is incredible. I adore a party gone awry.”
“It wasn’t a delightmare. It was awful. Mrs. Friendly told me I’m never going to work in this town again,” Nancy said. “Many other hellacious things have occurred, however, I cannot elaborate at the moment.”
“If I have twins, I think I will name them Fracas and Fiasco. Can’t Derek provide comfort in your time of need?”
“That’s another part of my misery, but I must get off the phone since I’m expecting an urgent call.”
“I’m sorry, Nancy-pants,” Milagro said. “I shall not take any more of your time, and I shall set every spare particle of my gray matter into formulating a solution.”
“Thanks, Mil. I shall relate the whole wretched tale anon.”
“Like Hamlet’s ghost, I bid you adieu, adieu, remember me.”
Because Nancy didn’t want anyone on the street seeing that she was home, she crept around her living room in the dim light from her laptop screen. She went to her assistant’s writing table and opened the drawer.
Besides the pens, paperclips, and Froth letterhead, she found the sketch pad that he used to take to the park. She snuck into her bedroom, went into the closet, shut the door and turned on the light.
Derek had told her that he’d never found the right story to tell, but each page held drawings from the time they’d shared. There were sketches of her at their favorite bistro, a view upward of Nancy’s legs and skirt as she held onto the warehouse ledge, a series of drawings of Nancy and Eugenia… There was a charming drawing of her asleep in bed. The pages were sometimes captioned with phrases from her Theory of Style.
Nancy closed the sketchbook and held it to her chest, missing so much, feeling so alone. The painting of Birdie stared at her. She didn’t want to see it ever again. She went to the back of the closet, grabbed the frame angrily and turned it to face away. The edge of the painting pulled back one of her long coats to reveal crayon scrawls on the wall.
She crouched down and pulled back the coat. There was a drawing of three figures, ovals with stick arms and three-fingered hands. The smallest had a scribble of brown hair. The middle one had yellow hair. The biggest had short black hair. There was also small gray blob with stripes and a tail.
Nancy curled up atop the nest of blankets and cried, choking back her sobs so she would be able to hear the phone. She stayed awake most of the night, waiting and waiting and thinking about Eugenia alone somewhere in the dark and she thought, I’ll come get you, baby, I promise.
Morning came and Nancy dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, staring at her phone, hoping that it would ring. Then someone knocked on her door. She ran to it so fast that she knocked over a chair, hoping that Miss Winkles had some information. She flung the door open and saw Rick standing there.
He was dressed the way he had been in the market, jeans and a t-shirt under a flannel shirt. His dark hair was tousled and he hadn’t shaved.
“What do you want?” Nancy said. “Did you come here to gloat, because there’s a lot to be gloaty about. My career is over, my reputation is destroyed, and I told my attorney to give Todd whatever he wants.”
“I didn’t come about that. Miss Winkles told me about Eugenia.”
“I’m sure you think I’m an awful aunt, too, so…” Don’t cry, she told herself, don’t cry. “You’ve succeeded in making me see what a fool I am, what a terrible wife I’ve been, so don’t let me keep you from your next assignment of seducing another pathetic housewife and breaking her… Go away.”
“I wasn’t hired to seduce you.” Rick pulled a paper out of his pocket and held it to her. “Birdie and Viktor are visiting his cousin and her husband.”
Nancy’s heart skipped and she grabbed the paper. There were two names and an address in Sea Cliff and an airline flight number and date a week away. “She’s here! Are they taking this flight out?”
“No, it’s their return flight on Thursday afternoon. They’re in St. Maarten for the week.”
Her elation was tempered by caution. “How did you find out? Why are you telling me this?”
“I found out through the Gay Mafia, of which my friend is a member. I’m telling you because Eugenia would be worse off with her mother. Take care of her, Nancy Fancy.”
He turned and walked away.
“Derek! Rick! Thank you.”
He stopped at the landing of the stairs, and turned and looked up at her. “Nancy, I never had to force myself to touch you. It’s all I wanted to do.”
Before she could say anything, he was gone.
Her broken heart could wait. Nancy showered and dressed. She peeked out her front door and when she saw it was clear, she ran up the stairs to Miss Winkles’. Knocking, she said, “Miss Winkles, it’s me, Nancy.”
Miss Winkles was dressed in her customary suit, but wearing terry cloth slippers. “Come in.”
Finally Nancy got to see the mystery penthouse. It was in a time warp with carnation pink walls and avocado green carpeting. Miss Winkles led her to the living room, where tiers of lace and brocade frippery hid the spectacular view.
Boxes of files and photo albums sat atop the ‘70s mod furniture, and framed photos and advertising posters featuring the Winkles Triplets hung on the walls. “Miss Winkles, thank you for telling Der…Rick. He told me when Eugenia’s coming back to the city.”
“Excuse the mess. I’ve been going through all my photographs. Your boyfriend helped me take the boxes out of the closets and I finally found what I was looking for.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He hates me.”
“Young people are always so melodramatic.” Miss Winkles was sealing two manila envelopes. “This apartment is too big for me now. It was crowded when I was here with my sisters and all our admirers.”
“Where are your sisters?”
“Duluth, where we’re from, with their children and grandchildren.”
“You didn’t want to get married?”
“There was only one man for me. He wanted me to give up my career and go with him to Maui, where he was building a hotel. He did very well for himself.” Miss Winkles picked up a pen and addressed the manila envelopes.
“So you lost him forever?”
“No, I acted like a grown-up and got on a plane and went after him. We had a passionate long-distance relationship until he passed away.” She held out the envelopes to Nancy. “Give this to Abigail Friendly and give the other to Rick.”
