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TUESDAY, 13 JUNE, 2000, PHILADELPHIA |
 CHAPTER 1 Nancy-On-The-Go River Heights hadn’t changed much since 1930. It was still a pleasant borough, on the outskirts of the ever-teeming metropolis of Winchester. In River Heights, neighbors still chatted local politics over crisply-painted white picket fences as they broke from long afternoons of lawn mowing and gardening. Ladies called upon other ladies in the afternoon to coo and exchange recipes for charming little finger foods with obsolete names that they would never actually have to cook themselves. Men wore Stetsons and had day jobs; women wore chiffon pleated numbers and married only once. Cars were a luxury and television was a thing other people had. Smoking was encouraged at social functions, and delightful luncheons and their meandering prattle could last all afternoon. Nancy Drew hadn’t changed much since the 30’s either. On this day she bounded out of her house in her new pleated plaid dirndl and white blouse with mother-of-pearl buttons, and traipsed down the front walk to the driveway, her sand-colored pageboy haircut bobbing flippantly in the sparkling afternoon sunlight as if it were a sentient creature just happy to be alive on such a beautiful day, and lucky enough to be sitting on the head of Nancy Drew — like a pigeon come home to roost. As she mounted the running board of her blue roadster, Mrs. Carlsberg the housekeeper called to Nancy from the kitchen window. “Miss Nancy! If you are motoring to town, would you please see Mr. Petersby the butcher about some nice round-eyes that he had promised me? You know your father loves his meat dishes!” “Oh Mrs. Carlsberg,” laughed Nancy gaily, “you know that’s a job for the help! Ring him up yourself between dinner preparations, laundry and shining all my shoes I left in the corridor for you. I may or may not be back in time for dinner, but have it prepared for me all the same. If I am late, you know to keep it warm.” What a goose she is! thought Nancy with great generosity. She sure keeps things lively around here with her what-to-do’s! Mrs. Carlsberg laughed good-heartedly, realizing her own mistake, and waved cheerfully to Nancy as she watched her leap into her automobile, grind the gears and zoom off down the driveway into the lane. Beautiful puffs of blue smoke swirled lovingly around the Drew household for a good ten minutes after Nancy had left, drifting in through the kitchen window and causing Mrs. Carlsberg to cough roughly as she smiled and fanned at the air with a spatula. “Miss Nancy has a mind of her own, that girl,” she thought fondly of her employer’s daughter. “Mr. Drew sir, it’s meatloaf tonight!” cried Mrs. Carlsberg from the kitchen waving her spatula about with a maniac’s glee. Carson Drew wheeled himself into the kitchen in his specially-built high-backed wicker wheelchair. “Then I won’t need to put my teeth in tonight,” he chuckled, taking Mrs. Carlsberg’s spatula and swatting her on the fanny playfully. Nancy’s father was something of a celebrity in his day, being in the 30’s and 40’s the top criminal lawyer in the county, and more lately something of a fabulous anomaly, being nearly 120 years old. Though his body was failing him, his faculties were intact, and, as much of the neighborhood suspected, his libido grew with his age. “Pudding for dessert?” winked Mr. Drew. “Naughty thing,” said Mrs. Carlsberg in mock horror. “You’ll bring on a tummy-ache with your fondness for sweets!” “Fuckin’ right I will,” said Carson Drew with a twinkle in his eye. …to be continued… 
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