Derek rang the downstairs
buzzer exactly at 9:00 a.m. Nancy had told him he could dress more casually
unless they had meetings, and he arrived in a gray pinstripe jacket in a fabric
that she needed to touch to identify, a gray-and-white geometric print shirt, stiff
Japanese denim jeans, and chisel-toed black lace-ups.
“Good day, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers,” he
said in plummy tones as he came in the door.
“Good morning, Derek.” Nancy fought the urge to excuse herself and
change into jeans so they would match. “Why don’t we start the day with
cappuccinos?”
“As you please, Madame.”
When the gorgeous assistant returned to
the room with their cappuccinos, she took a sip of the rich, foamy drink, with
just the right dusting of cocoa powder. “This is perfect! You’re an espresso
artiste.”
“Tosh,” he said with a modest tilt of
his head.
For the next hour, Nancy answered emails while Derek became
familiar with her project files. At ten she sent him downstairs to get the mail
from the apartment lobby.
He brought back a stack of letters,
magazines, and advertisements.
Nancy ’s eyes instantly went to the ivory
envelope tucked between a trunk show brochure and an announcement about the
symphony. She pulled it out and examined the spidery black handwriting on thick
Crane’s paper, then flipped it over to see the return address. After carefully
slicing open the letter, she read the card inside. “Oh, my!”
“Good news, I hope.”
“It’s from Mrs. Bentley Jamieson
Friendly,” she said. “She wants to talk to me about her fundraising gala for
the Barbary Coast Historical Museum .”
“A
charity for an institution in North Africa ?”
“Not quite. Our Barbary Coast was named
after it because the neighborhood was inhabited by the very wickedest and most
depraved,” Nancy said. “Mrs. Friendly’s a direct descendant of Dancing Dog Jamieson, a bartender
who drugged his customers and sold them to sea captains. Her husband’s
great-great-something was Dr. Painful Friendly, who made his patients sign over
mining claims if they wanted a tooth removed. Isn’t that marvelous?”
“Indeed,” he said.
“It’s such a thrilling part of our
culture, making us all feel like dangerous renegades, living as we do on the
edge of the continent,” Nancy said. “The gala is exactly what I’ve been looking
for, a social event that is established and yet unloved, like an annual visit
to your OB/Gyn – you have to go, and even through they say, oh you might feel a
little pinch, it’s always hurts like hell.”
“It is a social obligation?”
“It’s as obligationey as they get, but we
can make it into a social triumph just like pelvic exams could be a success if the
doctor’s staff would also do bikini waxes, so the pain would have a payoff. Let’s
dig up the dirt on the museum society’s past soirees.”
Derek and Nancy fell into a comfortable
rhythm and after a few hours, they had compiled a timeline, from the museum’s
first tea to the present.
“You’re very good at research,” Nancy said.
“As is Madame.”
“Thank you. But none of this information
is useful, except to prove that the fundraiser’s always been shockingly dull.” Nancy
smiled at her assistant and thought that going out with him would be best way
to show that she was unconcerned by spurious gossip. “Let’s do lunch.”
Chapter 5: Accentuating Your Strengths
They went to the garage and Derek asked,
“Would you like me to drive, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers?”
“No, thank you. After all, you’re used
to driving on the wrong side of the road.” She slipped off her shoes and slid on
soft, rubber soled, dusty rose driving shoes.
She spotted a convenient parking spot
near a Hayes Valley restaurant that Todd frequented
when he had meetings in town. As Nancy pulled into the space, Derek said, “Madame, I would be remiss if I didn’t
mention that the sign specifies that this curb is for lorry deliveries
buzzer exactly at 9:00 a.m. Nancy had told him he could dress more casually
unless they had meetings, and he arrived in a gray pinstripe jacket in a fabric
that she needed to touch to identify, a gray-and-white geometric print shirt, stiff
Japanese denim jeans, and chisel-toed black lace-ups.
“Good day, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers,” he
said in plummy tones as he came in the door.
“Good morning, Derek.” Nancy fought the urge to excuse herself and
change into jeans so they would match. “Why don’t we start the day with
cappuccinos?”
“As you please, Madame.”
When the gorgeous assistant returned to
the room with their cappuccinos, she took a sip of the rich, foamy drink, with
just the right dusting of cocoa powder. “This is perfect! You’re an espresso
artiste.”
“Tosh,” he said with a modest tilt of
his head.
For the next hour, Nancy answered emails while Derek became
familiar with her project files. At ten she sent him downstairs to get the mail
from the apartment lobby.
He brought back a stack of letters,
magazines, and advertisements.
Nancy ’s eyes instantly went to the ivory
envelope tucked between a trunk show brochure and an announcement about the
symphony. She pulled it out and examined the spidery black handwriting on thick
Crane’s paper, then flipped it over to see the return address. After carefully
slicing open the letter, she read the card inside. “Oh, my!”
“Good news, I hope.”
“It’s from Mrs. Bentley Jamieson
Friendly,” she said. “She wants to talk to me about her fundraising gala for
the Barbary Coast Historical Museum .”
“A
charity for an institution in North Africa ?”
“Not quite. Our Barbary Coast was named
after it because the neighborhood was inhabited by the very wickedest and most
depraved,” Nancy said. “Mrs. Friendly’s a direct descendant of Dancing Dog Jamieson, a bartender
who drugged his customers and sold them to sea captains. Her husband’s
great-great-something was Dr. Painful Friendly, who made his patients sign over
mining claims if they wanted a tooth removed. Isn’t that marvelous?”
“Indeed,” he said.
“It’s such a thrilling part of our
culture, making us all feel like dangerous renegades, living as we do on the
edge of the continent,” Nancy said. “The gala is exactly what I’ve been looking
for, a social event that is established and yet unloved, like an annual visit
to your OB/Gyn – you have to go, and even through they say, oh you might feel a
little pinch, it’s always hurts like hell.”
“It is a social obligation?”
“It’s as obligationey as they get, but we
can make it into a social triumph just like pelvic exams could be a success if the
doctor’s staff would also do bikini waxes, so the pain would have a payoff. Let’s
dig up the dirt on the museum society’s past soirees.”
Derek and Nancy fell into a comfortable
rhythm and after a few hours, they had compiled a timeline, from the museum’s
first tea to the present.
“You’re very good at research,” Nancy said.
“As is Madame.”
“Thank you. But none of this information
is useful, except to prove that the fundraiser’s always been shockingly dull.” Nancy
smiled at her assistant and thought that going out with him would be best way
to show that she was unconcerned by spurious gossip. “Let’s do lunch.”
Chapter 5: Accentuating Your Strengths
They went to the garage and Derek asked,
“Would you like me to drive, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers?”
“No, thank you. After all, you’re used
to driving on the wrong side of the road.” She slipped off her shoes and slid on
soft, rubber soled, dusty rose driving shoes.
She spotted a convenient parking spot
near a Hayes Valley restaurant that Todd frequented
when he had meetings in town. As Nancy pulled into the space, Derek said, “Madame, I would be remiss if I didn’t
mention that the sign specifies that this curb is for lorry deliveries
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