Right Number, Wrong Girl

I think I already knew the answer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – HUGO

The Mistakes We Make

ME: Nancy is hovering around asking questions about the party. Are you not telling her anything?

I shoved a wine gum into my mouth and chewed while I waited for Sophie to respond. I’d spent the morning helping my father go over architecture plans for the new cottage, and I was exhausted from all the thinking. Hanging out in his office also meant I was closer to my mother’s and had heard Nancy asking her things about the party until even Mum had had enough.

SOPHIE: Why would I tell her? I don’t need to.

ME: That explains it. She didn’t even know you were choosing the wine this morning.

SOPHIE: *shrug emoji* Your mum was there. If she wanted Nancy to be there, she would have been, right?

ME: Most definitely. Interesting.

SOPHIE: Is it? Rupert is a literal wine connoisseur. I cannot imagine there’s anything Fancy Nancy would be able to add to the conversation.

I choked on my wine gum.

Fancy Nancy? That was the best thing I’d heard in a while.

ME: Fancy Nancy?

SOPHIE: Um…

SOPHIE: This is awful, but I was in a bad mood when she called originally, and I thought she sounded like a fancy farmer on the phone so I called her Fancy Nancy in my head.

SOPHIE: And now I really don’t like her so I keep calling her it.

I rubbed my hand down my face, fighting laughter.

It was hard to argue with her. It was kind of the perfect nickname for Nancy if you needed something that wasn’t completely derogatory, and now I wasn’t sure I’d be able to call her anything else ever again.

Shit.

This woman was something else.

ME: That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.

SOPHIE: It’s pretty awful, actually. But then again so is she so I struggle to care.

I nodded slowly, pressing my lips together. Again, there was no argument there. She really was awful, and I had no idea why my mother kept her employed. She was good at her job, sure, but she wasn’t the only person who could do it as well as she did.

And the other people probably wouldn’t be dicks, either.

ME: How’s lunch with my sister?

SOPHIE: She’s currently on the phone to your grandma trying to come up with an excuse for why she wasn’t invited.

Jesus.

Grandma really was falling in love with Sophie.

Or Camilla, as she called her.

ME: Oh. That’s why I saw her stomping through the hallway earlier muttering about ungrateful bitches.