tote-bag size rocket
launcher? But before we could do anything useful, Mrs. Friendly’s super-secret
security team would whisk us away and we’d never be seen again.”
Derek glanced around the house and
grounds. “I see no guards.”
“No one ever has, but they see us. Daddy
says they’re all former KGB or Mossad. When Mrs. Friendly was a girl, someone
tried to kidnap her and she’s been under guard ever since.”
The theme of the house was “more.” More
turrets, more mullioned windows, more marble friezes, more statuary. Five
minutes after they rang the doorbell, the door was opened by a scrawny and
blank-faced old man in a misbuttoned gold blazer, striped pajama pants and
slippers.
“We’ll take four boxes of the Thin Mints
and one of the Gauchos,” he told Nancy .
Then he stared at Derrick and said, “Heard you drowned off the Great Barrier Reef after you were sent packing. Damned
nuisance.” Then the old man turned and shuffled off.
“The quaint and ancient retainer,” Nancy said, staring at
the open door.
“I fear that you’ve glimpsed my future,
Mrs. Carrington-Chambers,” Derek replied softly and made her laugh.
She saw it for the first time then, the
way that one corner of Derek’s lips went up in something that might be called a
smirk rather than a smile. It made her feel as if they were conspiratorial.
They followed the old man inside and
gazed in fascination at all the things that covered the two-story entry hall. The
walls were barely visible under stuffed animal heads, paintings, hat racks, and
mirrors.
“I wonder if he’s gone to announce us,” Nancy said to Derek.
He was staring in wonder at the wall. She
followed his glance and saw a mallard head mounted on a wood plaque beside a cubist
painting of female nudes.
The painting gave her a sense of deep
comfort. Beautiful, true things had that effect on Nancy . “She’s got an astonishing collection
of art.”
“Hellooo,” called someone from another
room. “Come on in.”
They followed the voice down a hall to a
long drawing room stuffed with heavy carved oak and maroon velvet furnishings. A
wall of windows had a glorious view of the white-capped gray-green bay.
Above the carved redwood fireplace was a
cartoon bright pop-art triptych portrait of Mrs. Friendly. When Nancy tore her eyes from it she spotted a tiny plump woman
in a St. John orange sweater and peach knit skirt perched on a brocade armchair.
Mrs. Friendly had never been a beauty,
her money and lively personality had drawn admirers. She’d been dying her hair
flame red so long that it had cycled in and out of fashion through the decades.
Now a darker scarlet hairpiece was pinned like a hat atop her own wispy locks. She
powdered her face with haphazard enthusiasm and huge, thick glasses were
propped on her button of a nose.
Mrs. Friendly stood, and the weighted-hem
of her skirt fell fluidly to the wrinkled “Suntan” stockings that showed just
above her purple suede and lambskin booties. “Did Greene show you in? Did you
see where he went?” Her cloudy blue eyes searched the room.
“He met us at the door,” Nancy said. “I’m Nancy
Carrington-Chambers, and this is my assistant, Derek Cathcart.”
“I know who you are, missy, and I know your
family, too, and your cousin Birdie, of course. Quite the adventuress, that
one.”
“She does like traveling,” Nancy said with a polite
smile and she thought, please, please, let’s not talk about Birdie.
“Come close and let me take a look at
you. Everything’s a blur these days, but I still like to look.”
Nancy went to Mrs. Friendly who put her face
close and peered at Nancy .
“You seem pretty, but I’ll be able to
tell better once I have my cataract surgery. You know, they do it outpatient,
now, and it takes only a day to recover.”
“Science is astounding,” Nancy said and hoped that
she would be able to have a robot maid soon.
“Take a load off. If we’re lucky Greene
will show up with
launcher? But before we could do anything useful, Mrs. Friendly’s super-secret
security team would whisk us away and we’d never be seen again.”
Derek glanced around the house and
grounds. “I see no guards.”
“No one ever has, but they see us. Daddy
says they’re all former KGB or Mossad. When Mrs. Friendly was a girl, someone
tried to kidnap her and she’s been under guard ever since.”
The theme of the house was “more.” More
turrets, more mullioned windows, more marble friezes, more statuary. Five
minutes after they rang the doorbell, the door was opened by a scrawny and
blank-faced old man in a misbuttoned gold blazer, striped pajama pants and
slippers.
“We’ll take four boxes of the Thin Mints
and one of the Gauchos,” he told Nancy .
Then he stared at Derrick and said, “Heard you drowned off the Great Barrier Reef after you were sent packing. Damned
nuisance.” Then the old man turned and shuffled off.
“The quaint and ancient retainer,” Nancy said, staring at
the open door.
“I fear that you’ve glimpsed my future,
Mrs. Carrington-Chambers,” Derek replied softly and made her laugh.
She saw it for the first time then, the
way that one corner of Derek’s lips went up in something that might be called a
smirk rather than a smile. It made her feel as if they were conspiratorial.
They followed the old man inside and
gazed in fascination at all the things that covered the two-story entry hall. The
walls were barely visible under stuffed animal heads, paintings, hat racks, and
mirrors.
“I wonder if he’s gone to announce us,” Nancy said to Derek.
He was staring in wonder at the wall. She
followed his glance and saw a mallard head mounted on a wood plaque beside a cubist
painting of female nudes.
The painting gave her a sense of deep
comfort. Beautiful, true things had that effect on Nancy . “She’s got an astonishing collection
of art.”
“Hellooo,” called someone from another
room. “Come on in.”
They followed the voice down a hall to a
long drawing room stuffed with heavy carved oak and maroon velvet furnishings. A
wall of windows had a glorious view of the white-capped gray-green bay.
Above the carved redwood fireplace was a
cartoon bright pop-art triptych portrait of Mrs. Friendly. When Nancy tore her eyes from it she spotted a tiny plump woman
in a St. John orange sweater and peach knit skirt perched on a brocade armchair.
Mrs. Friendly had never been a beauty,
her money and lively personality had drawn admirers. She’d been dying her hair
flame red so long that it had cycled in and out of fashion through the decades.
Now a darker scarlet hairpiece was pinned like a hat atop her own wispy locks. She
powdered her face with haphazard enthusiasm and huge, thick glasses were
propped on her button of a nose.
Mrs. Friendly stood, and the weighted-hem
of her skirt fell fluidly to the wrinkled “Suntan” stockings that showed just
above her purple suede and lambskin booties. “Did Greene show you in? Did you
see where he went?” Her cloudy blue eyes searched the room.
“He met us at the door,” Nancy said. “I’m Nancy
Carrington-Chambers, and this is my assistant, Derek Cathcart.”
“I know who you are, missy, and I know your
family, too, and your cousin Birdie, of course. Quite the adventuress, that
one.”
“She does like traveling,” Nancy said with a polite
smile and she thought, please, please, let’s not talk about Birdie.
“Come close and let me take a look at
you. Everything’s a blur these days, but I still like to look.”
Nancy went to Mrs. Friendly who put her face
close and peered at Nancy .
“You seem pretty, but I’ll be able to
tell better once I have my cataract surgery. You know, they do it outpatient,
now, and it takes only a day to recover.”
“Science is astounding,” Nancy said and hoped that
she would be able to have a robot maid soon.
“Take a load off. If we’re lucky Greene
will show up with
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