Page 10 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

I stared after him, trying to decipher what about that interaction left me feeling so unsettled. No, perhaps that wasn’t the right word. Off-kilter. Maybe it was because I was so unused to interacting with people in general. Even in New York, my connections to the outside world were minimal. I knew people in college, but never grew close to them. With my mother always hovering, it was hard to interact with anyone outside of whom she deemed acceptable.

Normally, I hated anyone she gave the green light on. Sumner got her gold stamp of approval, and yet here Iwas, almost anticipating coming back to the hotel for brunch.

It was unacceptable.

There was only one person left in Addison high society that I could stand, and that was Nancy Priscilla Du Pont.

Nancy, or Ms. Nancy to those trying to schmooze her in hopes of getting a slice of her will, was one of a kind when it came to the elite. While she had ample money, Nancy chose a simple one-story ranch style home out in the country. When she could drive, she’d continued on in her simple sedan she’d been driving for over twenty years. It sat parked in the driveway now, allowing the elements to rain down on it, the rust to eat at it, without care.

Even though she and her husband founded the Alderton-Du Ponte Country Club and didn’t hold back to erect it with glitz and grandeur, she preferred a simpler life. No maids, no staff, nothing. From the outside looking in, one would guess she had money, but no one would’ve guessed how much.

Her husband died decades ago, and with no children, it left her all alone. She often told me she was happier alone.

We were two peas in the same pod, Nancy and me, and it’d been far too long since I’d spoken with her last.

“Hello?” I called into the house when I opened the front door. The scent of medicated ointment hung in the air, and it burned my nose. After so longaway, the house felt…wrong. What should’ve been familiar and lulling only seemed out of place.

I found a woman sitting at Nancy’s small dining room table with a magazine open, and recognized her immediately. Then I fought the urge to groan.

“You’re here?” Yvette asked, not bothering to hide the disdain from her voice. Her blouse had a blooming neckline, one that only fell low enough to display the diamond necklace that hung around her neck.

“It appears so.” I looked around the kitchen, but Yvette was alone. “You’re here?”

“It appears so,” Yvette replied in a snotty voice, returning her attention to her magazine.

“Why? Where’s Nancy?”

“The ladies at the country club rotate who stays with her during the day. She’s too sick to be left alone for too long.”

Despite the warm air of the house—Nancy apparently didn’t believe in air conditioning anymore—a chill snaked its way up my spine. “Where is she?”

“Out back.”

I stared at her for a beat as I digested her words. “I thought you said she shouldn’t be left alone.”

Yvette decided I was no longer worthy of a response, because she simply flipped another magazine page.

It was almost amusing how different people behaved when my mother wasn’t around. I gritted my teeth together now, and ultimately deciding against picking a fight with my least favorite person, and moving through the house. It’d be unfortunate if I shed demonblood on Nancy’s hardwood floors.

I found Nancy on a hill about a hundred feet from her back porch that overlooked her wide, expansive acreage. The land had once been beautiful with lush green grass and a small manmade pond set into the land with the golden sunlight shining down on it. Now, the grass had thinned and overgrown, the pond more of an algae pit than anything to sink even a toe into. Nancy had parked her wheelchair underneath the shade of an oak tree, its buds doing little to keep the sunlight off her frail skin. Her back was to me, her shoulders hunched over as if she were cold in the early summer sun.

Even from the brief glimpse, it was clear that, in the four months since I’d last seen her, she had declined further. She hadn’t been in the best state when I’d been home for New Year’s, but her frame seemed thinner, frailer. Even from here, I could see a blanket draped over her lap, but still watched as her shoulders shook as if cold.

Drawing in a breath, I started toward her. “What’d you do to piss Yvette off?”

Nancy jumped at my voice, and if I’d been hoping for a loud and excited reunion, I’d have been horribly mistaken. Nancy took my sudden reappearance in stride, hardly batting an eye twice in my direction. “What makes you think I did anything?” she snapped back at me, her voice ornery comforting. It contrasted the scent of medication in her house.

“She let you wheel yourself out here unsupervised.”

“Unsupervised,” she scoffed. I came around to her side, joining her in gazing at her pond. “I’m not a toddler.”

“You’ve got the temper of one.” I withdrew the small bag of Dutch dark chocolate from the pocket in my suitjacket, offering halfway to her. “Brought you something. Only if you behave.”

Nancy snatched the candy out of my grip. “Would’ve much more preferred a pack of Marlboros. You got any on you?”

“Your lungs are already functioning at thirty percent capacity. Do you want to wheel an oxygen tank around?” I slipped my hand into my pant pocket. “Besides, I quit. Years ago. I told you.”

For a moment, the only sound between us was the rustling of plastic as Nancy fought to unwrap the candy. “Good. Nasty habit. And everyone knew you were just doing it for teenage rebellion—tacky, that.”

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