Nancy’s Theory of Style (11 page)

While he updated her contacts database,
Nancy
went through the
slumber party to-do list. She talked to the caterer, the furniture warehouse
manager, the entertainment agent, photographer and valet service.

There were the expected glitches, and
she handled each calmly. After telling the staging director that half-down
pillows were not acceptable, she looked up to see Derek watching her.

“I don’t compromise on quality,” she
said, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She had compromised her whole
marriage.

Derek didn’t ask, but he had his head
tipped in that way that invited
Nancy
to share her deepest, most fervent, most private thoughts.

Impulsively she opened the slim drawer
in her writing table, took out a composition book and handed it to him.

He took the composition book almost reverently.
“Is this your personal journal?”

“It’s my Theory of Style. Style isn’t just
trendy clothing. Style is a way to approach life so that everything is in
harmony, so that form and function hold hands and go skipping,” she said. “It’s
not Kierkegaard, I know, and it’s too bad he didn’t read it because a makeover
might have gotten him his honey and spared us his melancholia.”

“Mrs. Carrington-Chambers, you are not
what I anticipated.”

“Neither are you. Derek, I wouldn’t
share this with any other man, but there’s something about you that I instinctively
trust.”

He smiled, but didn’t respond.

No matter how thoroughly
Nancy
planned an event,
the last hours were insanely busy with all the things that could only be done
during the final hours. On Saturday morning, she got up at five and dressed in denim
leggings and a t-shirt with a campy superhero graphic.

She transferred the necessary schedules,
printouts and personal things into a roomy turquoise tote and gathered
everything else she’d need into woven hemp bags with the sea-green Froth logo. She
methodically cross-checked her packing list with the items in the bags.

Derek came at 7:15, wearing black jeans
that made his legs look even longer, a white button-down shirt, and a striped
tie with a gold bar pin.

“Good morning, Derek.”

“Good day, Madame. What an amusing
t-shirt.”

“I thought I’d need all my superpowers
today.”

“What is your Kryptonite?”

“Uninvited guests,” she said with a
smile. “Electrical failures, flat champagne, a rabid skunk in the spa pavilion.
What is your Kryptonite?”

“If I told you that I would be at your mercy,”
he said.

At 8:15, they arrived at the Barton
mansion.
Nancy
loved
the front steps of the Italian Renaissance revival building and the spiraled
Corinthian columns that supported the arched entrance. “Line and form,” she
said to Derek. “I’ll tell you about the nightmare that is my house sometime.”

“If it is your house, then it must be
elegant.”

“Why do you think I’m not living with my
husband?” she said, and then tried to counter the bitterness with a smile. “But
it’s just temporary. It’s easier for me to concentrate on Froth if I’m here.”

Mrs. Yao, Gigi’s long-time executive
assistant, met them at the door. She was very tall, bony, and striking despite
her conservative knee-length blue skirt and a rose-pink sweater over a cream
blouse. “Good morning,
Nancy
.
I can always trust you to be on time.”

“Hi, Mrs. Yao. This is Derek Cathcart,
my assistant.”

“How do you do,” he said.

Mrs. Yao gave Derek a pleasant look, but
Nancy
knew she
was taking in everything about him.

Nancy
said, “Mrs. Yao, everyone will be
wearing night clothes tonight.”

“I’m glad they’re not going to be naked.
Some things are impossible to unsee,” she replied as she led them into the
entry hall.

“So in the spirit of the party, you
might want to wear—“

“Get that thought out of your head,
Nancy
,” Mrs. Yao said. “I
wear what I want to wear.”

“Mrs. Yao used to model,”
Nancy
said.

“For only two years. That was enough.” The
older woman led them into the entry hall and then into the grand hall, a vast
room that ended with views out to the garden shrouded in morning fog. “It seems
like just the other day that we had your wedding reception here.”

Nancy
had been thinking about that, too,
remembering the room filled with her family, friends, and the people Todd
invited for business connections. “It was a lovely reception.”

“You were one of the most radiant brides
I’ve ever seen. Besides Gigi, of course. She’s always works the aisle like a
runway. The caterers are already unloading.”

“Wonderful. The other vendors will be
here at nine.”

“The music room was cleared yesterday.” Mrs.
Yao led them to a long room with framed murals of the nine muses. Their nymphy garments
were very nightgowny, which is why it was ideal for the slumber party theme.

“Wonderful,”
Nancy
said.

Mrs. Yao crossed the room, saying, “We’ve
already set up the Palladium Room for you.” She opened the door to a room with
long tables, two house phones, and a credenza with refreshments.

“This is perfect,”
Nancy
said.

“You know where everything is, but you
can ring my office if you need anything.”

“You’re a gem, Mrs. Yao.”

When the assistant left the room,
Nancy
said, “Isn’t this
place beautiful? Look at these floors – Rosato Vicenza marble. I’ll give you a
tour.”

Nancy
had just showed Derek the long, narrow
room by the grand staircase, saying, “This is the cloak room,” when she was
interrupted by a shriek. They turned to see a six-foot tall woman coming toward
them.

Gigi Barton was wearing a garish paisley
caftan with a scarf wrapped around her head like a turban. Her famous
cheekbones were remarkable even without makeup. She blew a kiss to
Nancy
and went directly
to Derek. Putting her arm through his she said, “We used to call it the
coke-room. Those were wild days, but I haven’t been completely tamed yet.”

She was gazing at Derek with a flirty
smile on her newly inflated lips. “Who are you, gorgeous?” she asked.

“Derek Cathcart, ma’am.”

“Derek’s my assistant, Gigi,”
Nancy
said. “Derek, this
is…”

“Just Gigi,” she said.

“A pleasure,” he said.

“That’s what they all tell me. Where are
you from, Derek?”

“
England
.”

“Whereabouts in
England
?”

“The north when I was but a wee lad, but
we had occasion to move frequently, and my employment has kept me traveling.”

“Ah, your accent is…a little different,
isn’t it?”

“That’s what they all tell me,” he said
playfully.

Gigi was gazing at him with an
I-have-vast-resources-for-your-amusement look, but
Nancy
wasn’t about to let this man-eater get
her hooks in Derek. “Gigi, what are you doing up so early?”

She waved one of her too-tan hands. “Oh,
please. I haven’t been to bed yet, but I’ll catch a few hours before tonight. Just
came to say hello.” Gigi finally turned to
Nancy
and said, “I know you’ll do everything
beautifully. I’m counting on you.”

Although Gigi was smiling, Nancy knew that
she was a woman who was used to having things done exactly the way she wanted
them to be done.

Nancy
said, “It will be everything you want
and more.”

“That’s very reassuring. Now, if that
new girl hasn’t stolen my Ambien again, I’ll go to bed. Honestly, I’d fire her,
but she always gets the best ganja. Until tonight.” Gigi wafted away, her caftan
floating behind her.

“That’s real style,”
Nancy
observed.

“You didn’t think the ensemble was a tad
costumey?”

“For anyone else, yes. But on Gigi’s
tall frame, it works. Like Elsie de Wolfe, she wears what suits her. De Wolfe
was tall, too.”
Nancy
sighed. “If only I was taller.”

“My mum always said that so long as your
feet reach the ground, you are tall enough,” Derek said. “She had a difficult
time always keeping me in shoes.”

It was the most personal thing he’d told
her. “I’ve come to accept your excessive height.”

“Your acceptance means the world to me,
Madame,” he said with that smirk and she felt a pleasant frisson of something.

But before she could analyze it, vans
and delivery trucks began arriving.

Chapter 7: Chic Looks for Any Hour

Sloane arrived at 10:10 a.m. with two assistants
who would stay through the first shift. She was a brown-haired, brown-eyed type
who blended into the background, especially in pouchy mom jeans.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Sloane said. “I took
the boys to the park and they were having so much fun that it was hard to get
away. Dobler learned how to use the monkey bars! It’s fascinating watching children
develop their large and small motor skills.”

Nancy
couldn’t imagine how dreary Sloane’s
life must be if she thought a child swinging from a bar was exciting. She introduced
Sloan to Derek and then reviewed their schedule.

After Sloane left to assemble the swag
bags,
Nancy
said, “I remember her when she just sparkled. It’s hard to believe, but she
could light up a room. That’s what children do to their victims. They leave them
as flat and dull as a chalkboard.”

“That would mean that our own mothers
were de-sparkled by us,” Derek said.

“There are exceptions. I’m sure we added
sparkle, Derek. You certainly add sparkle to my life. You’re a human BeDazzler.”
She wanted to continue the conversation, but the staging crew had arrived.

The theme was Hollywood Regency, and
everything had to look swank and glitzy. The crew rolled out white shag
carpeting and hauled in king-size mattresses that were dressed with luxurious
white and indigo linens. The white and near-black flowers came: parrot tulips,
roses, frilled poppies, musky tuberoses and even tiny black pansies and
penny-blacks.

Ivory velvet loveseats and black lacquer
cocktail tables were arranged in conversation groups. Silver-framed mirrors
were positioned to reflect the spectacular chandeliers. Black-and-white
versions of night-themed movies flickered on screens: Fellini’s The Nights of
Cabiria, It Happened One Night, Night of the Iguana…

Tents were erected outside with massage
tables, soaking tubs, and stylist stations. An al fresco café was created on the
patio and a net of tiny lights replicated stars since the night was overcast.

By the time Nancy and Derek checked the
bustling kitchen, Derek’s cheeks were flushed with his exertions and the heat
of the room.
Nancy
saw him looking at the colorful platters of food.

He said, “Not exclusively black and
white, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers?”

“The food is like a hand-tinted detail
in a black and white photo – the neutral background allows the color to pop,” she
said.

One of the cooks wiped his hands on a
towel and came to her. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for the gig.” He
looked around at the busy kitchen and said, “We’re all glad to have the work,
especially at a time like this.

“You’re doing a wonderful job,”
Nancy
said. “I hope Froth
will be able to hire your company for future events.”

When the cook went back to his tasks,
Nancy
smiled at Derek and
said, “It’s time for us to get changed. I have a surprise for you.”

When they got to the music room,
Nancy
unzipped the
garment bag that she’d brought from home. Inside were two pairs of silk men’s
pajamas in midnight blue and two pairs of matching women’s pajamas. Their names
were monogrammed in ivory on the pockets.

“It’s our uniform for tonight,”
Nancy
said and handed Derek
the men’s pajamas. “We’ll be matching. I have moccasins for you, too.”

“How very thoughtful,” he said,
obviously touched by the gift.

Nancy
thought of suggesting that they change
here together, the way models do backstage, because she was curious about his
underwear, but she didn’t know if he’d interpret it in the highly professional
way she intended. So she excused herself to one of the upstairs guest rooms and
got ready in a scant 45 minutes.