boring zoning
work. She’s a friend, but you don’t know how I had to nag her to dress more
attractively. One should dress for the job one wants, not like the pitiable,
lonely grad student one was.”
“It is kind of you to care about your
friend.”
“Well, that’s who I am, a caring
person,” Nancy said, and then smiled. “She was eying you like a crazy lady eyes a box of
kittens. That’s Junie -- she habitually crushes on unattainables.”
Derek knit his nicely groomed eyebrows
together and said, “I don’t catch your meaning, Madame.”
“Unattainables -- worthwhile men who
have a game plan for life. They expect a girl to bring more to the relationship
than affection. They could get that from a dog, and even then they’d go to a
reputable breeder to ensure quality. I’ve tried to steer Junie toward guys who
would be grateful for her attention, but she’s delusional.”
After they had ordered, Nancy glanced around the restaurant and said,
“I used to know everyone in the city before Todd, Mr. Chambers, put me in exile
in the provinces. Now I’m a hapless rutabaga, uprooted and ignored.”
“Should you ever need to talk, Mrs.
Carrington-Chambers, I should be pleased to listen. A former employer said that
it eased his heart to share his personal concerns.”
Nancy looked deep and searchingly into his eyes.
“Derek?”
“Yes, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers?” he
asked softly, keeping his gaze locked on hers.
“What color are your eyes?”
“They are blue, Madame.”
“No, my eyes are blue. Yours are
something else.”
A smiled flickered on his face and he
said, “A friend calls them midnight blue.”
“I memorized all the colors in my crayon
box, and Midnight Blue is not quite right. I’ll think of it though. Was this a
special friend?”
“I believe so.”
“I’m so glad you have someone, Derek.” She
sighed. “I thought Todd was special, too. Maybe he is special and I’m just...”
Their food came then. Derek was good
enough to share his French fries with Nancy and even welcomed her suggestion that they eat them with catsup, the American
way.
She almost wanted to talk to him about
Todd, because that was what gay friends were for, right? She wasn’t sure about
the rules since Todd wasn’t comfortable having gay men around. He wasn’t
comfortable with anyone who wasn’t like just him.
There was a parking ticket on the car’s
windshield. Nancy plucked it off and handed it to Derek, saying, “There are some others in the
glove compartment. Send them to Mr. Chambers, please. He’ll have his friends
take care of them.”
When Derek and Nancy returned to the
apartment, she called Mrs. Jamieson Friendly. After the phone rang and rang,
the woman herself answered and explained that she was in her sunroom with her orchids.
Nancy resisted the urge to tell Mrs. Friendly
that orchids were so ‘80s, since she might think Nancy meant the 1880s. “Let’s talk about your
fundraising event. It’s such an important date on all of our calendars!”
Mrs. Friendly barked out a laugh. “Come
on, sugar, we both know it’s as dried up as my lady parts! That’s what I want
to talk to you about. How soon can you drop by the Saloon?”
Nancy said that she could be there within an
hour and asked if she could bring her assistant.
“The more the merrier.”
Mrs. Friendly’s mansion was only a
ten-minute walk from Chateau Winkles.
“Is this saloon a pub?” Derek asked.
“No, it’s called that in honor of Mrs.
Friendly’s bar-owner ancestor. Although once you see it, you’ll need a stiff drink.”
The Saloon was a swollen red-brick furuncle
among its more gracious neighbors. A border of flowering plants in confetti
colors lined the semi-circular driveway that curved around an appalling
fountain: portly cherubs squirted water from their chubby privates and
frolicked in eternal stony abandon.
As Nancy and Derek approached the
mansion, she said, “Why doesn’t Zac Posen design a
work. She’s a friend, but you don’t know how I had to nag her to dress more
attractively. One should dress for the job one wants, not like the pitiable,
lonely grad student one was.”
“It is kind of you to care about your
friend.”
“Well, that’s who I am, a caring
person,” Nancy said, and then smiled. “She was eying you like a crazy lady eyes a box of
kittens. That’s Junie -- she habitually crushes on unattainables.”
Derek knit his nicely groomed eyebrows
together and said, “I don’t catch your meaning, Madame.”
“Unattainables -- worthwhile men who
have a game plan for life. They expect a girl to bring more to the relationship
than affection. They could get that from a dog, and even then they’d go to a
reputable breeder to ensure quality. I’ve tried to steer Junie toward guys who
would be grateful for her attention, but she’s delusional.”
After they had ordered, Nancy glanced around the restaurant and said,
“I used to know everyone in the city before Todd, Mr. Chambers, put me in exile
in the provinces. Now I’m a hapless rutabaga, uprooted and ignored.”
“Should you ever need to talk, Mrs.
Carrington-Chambers, I should be pleased to listen. A former employer said that
it eased his heart to share his personal concerns.”
Nancy looked deep and searchingly into his eyes.
“Derek?”
“Yes, Mrs. Carrington-Chambers?” he
asked softly, keeping his gaze locked on hers.
“What color are your eyes?”
“They are blue, Madame.”
“No, my eyes are blue. Yours are
something else.”
A smiled flickered on his face and he
said, “A friend calls them midnight blue.”
“I memorized all the colors in my crayon
box, and Midnight Blue is not quite right. I’ll think of it though. Was this a
special friend?”
“I believe so.”
“I’m so glad you have someone, Derek.” She
sighed. “I thought Todd was special, too. Maybe he is special and I’m just...”
Their food came then. Derek was good
enough to share his French fries with Nancy and even welcomed her suggestion that they eat them with catsup, the American
way.
She almost wanted to talk to him about
Todd, because that was what gay friends were for, right? She wasn’t sure about
the rules since Todd wasn’t comfortable having gay men around. He wasn’t
comfortable with anyone who wasn’t like just him.
There was a parking ticket on the car’s
windshield. Nancy plucked it off and handed it to Derek, saying, “There are some others in the
glove compartment. Send them to Mr. Chambers, please. He’ll have his friends
take care of them.”
When Derek and Nancy returned to the
apartment, she called Mrs. Jamieson Friendly. After the phone rang and rang,
the woman herself answered and explained that she was in her sunroom with her orchids.
Nancy resisted the urge to tell Mrs. Friendly
that orchids were so ‘80s, since she might think Nancy meant the 1880s. “Let’s talk about your
fundraising event. It’s such an important date on all of our calendars!”
Mrs. Friendly barked out a laugh. “Come
on, sugar, we both know it’s as dried up as my lady parts! That’s what I want
to talk to you about. How soon can you drop by the Saloon?”
Nancy said that she could be there within an
hour and asked if she could bring her assistant.
“The more the merrier.”
Mrs. Friendly’s mansion was only a
ten-minute walk from Chateau Winkles.
“Is this saloon a pub?” Derek asked.
“No, it’s called that in honor of Mrs.
Friendly’s bar-owner ancestor. Although once you see it, you’ll need a stiff drink.”
The Saloon was a swollen red-brick furuncle
among its more gracious neighbors. A border of flowering plants in confetti
colors lined the semi-circular driveway that curved around an appalling
fountain: portly cherubs squirted water from their chubby privates and
frolicked in eternal stony abandon.
As Nancy and Derek approached the
mansion, she said, “Why doesn’t Zac Posen design a
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