Impressionist paintings。 ？Mom！ Dad？ I？m going over to Nate？s house！ Serena and I are spending
the night！？
When there was no reply； she clomped her way to her parents？ huge master suite in her noisy
Kors wooden…heeled sheepskin clogs； opened their bedroom door； and made a beeline for her
mom？s dressing room。 Eleanor Waldorf kept a tall stack of crisp emergency twenties in her
lingerie drawer for Blair and her ten…year…old brother； Tyler； to parse from？ for taxis； cappuccinos；
and； in Blair？s case； the occasional much…needed pair of Manolo Blahnik heels。 Twenty； forty；
sixty； eighty； one hundred。 Twenty； forty； sixty； eighty； two hundred。 Blair counted out the bills；
folding them neatly before stuffing them into the back pocket of her peg…legged Seven jeans。
？If I were a cabernet；？ Blair？s father？s dramatically playful lawyer？s voice echoed out of the
adjoining dressing room； ？how would you describe my bouquet？？
Excusez…moi？
Blair clomped out of her mom？s dressing room and reached for the chocolate brown velvet
curtain hanging in the doorway of her dad？s。 ？If you guys are in there together； like； doing it while
I？m home； then that？s really gross；？ she declared flatly。 ？Anyway； I？m going over to Nate？s； so？？
Her father； Harold J。 Waldorf； Esquire； pulled aside the velvet curtain； dressed in his cashmere
tweed Paul Smith bathrobe and nothing else； his nicely tanned； handsome face looking slightly
flushed。 ？Mom？s out looking at dishes for the Guggenheim benefit。 I thought you were out。 Where
are you going exactly？？
Blair stared at him。 He wasn？t holding a phone； and if her mom was out； then who the fuck had
he just been talking to？ She stood blinking at him with her hands on her hips； tempted to peek
inside his dressing room to see who he was hiding in there。
Does she really want to know？
Instead； she stumbled out of the master suite； clomped her way across the penthouse； grabbed her
blood orange？ colored Jimmy Choo treasure chest hobo； and ran for the elevator。
Outside it was breathtakingly cold； and fat flakes fell at random。 Usually she walked the twelve
blocks to Nate？s house； but today Blair had no patience for walking？she had just discovered that
her father was a lying； cheating scum…bag； after all； and a cab was waiting for her downstairs。 Or
rather； a cab was waiting for Mrs。 Solomon in 4A； but when the hunter green uniform？clad
doorman saw the terrifying look on Blair？s normally pretty face； he let her take it。
Besides； hailing cabs in the snow was probably the high…light of his day。
The stone walls bordering Central Park were blanketed in snow。 A tall； elderly woman and her
Yorkshire terrier； dressed in matching red Chanel quilted coats with matching black velvet bows in
their white hair； crossed Seventy…second Street and entered the Ralph Lauren flagship store。
Blair？s cab hurtled recklessly up Madison Avenue； past Agn？s B。 and Williams…Sonoma and the
Three Guys coffee shop； where all the Constance Billard girls gathered after school； and finally
pulled up to Nate？s town house。
？Let me in！？ she yelled into the inter outside the Archibalds？ elegant wrought…iron…and…glass
front door as she swatted the buzzer over and over with her hand。
oh； the places you？ll go！
？Okay。？ Vanessa sighed； kneeling on the fifth…floor play…room carpet of the James…Morgan
family？s Park Avenue town house。 ？Let？s just do one final bag check and then we are out of here。
Ready？？
？Ready！？ Nils and Edgar screamed in unison。 They were twins and so they did pretty much
everything in unison； whether it was spilling cranberry juice on their mother？s antique ivory
silk？upholstered armchairs or screeching at the top of their lungs （probably to remind their mother
that they indeed existed）。 They were adorable in their own way； but that way was particularly hard
to see when you were responsible for wiping their various body parts and making sure they got
through the day with those body parts intact and unharmed。 And that was exactly the position in
which Vanessa found her…self。 She？d been fired from her first serious Hollywood gig as the
cinematographer onBreakfast at Fred？s； and in a moment of personal and financial desperation；
she？d signed on to be a nanny。
Also； she？d been drunk at the time。 Obviously。
It was almost too depressing to consider that two weeks ago she？d been in private rehearsals in a
major movie star？s suite in the Chelsea Hotel； doing what she loved best； and now she was in a
slightly Edwardian attic nursery in Carnegie Hill with a grape jelly stain on her Levi？s and two
snot…nosed boys somersaulting at her feet； while the movie？s stars were sunning themselves on the
beach； only a few miles away； in the Hamptons。 Not that she was much of a star…fucker； but still。
？Here we go。Tissues？？Vanessa asked。
？Yay！？ cried the twins； brandishing two Kleenex bundles。 They flung them into the
pink…and…green Lilly Pulitzer tote bag。
？Snack bags？？
？Yay！？ They whipped in two little plastic baggies filled with cheddar cheese goldfish crackers。
？Juice boxes？？
？Yay！？
？Don？t throw them！？ Vanessa immediately recalled the pink stains she？d tried so hard to scrub
out of the antique chairs。
？Throw what？？ Allison Morgan？also known asMs。 ？ strode purposefully up the narrow wooden
stairs and into the sun…drenched playroom； her snakeskin Jimmy Choo stiletto slingbacks clacking
on the blond parquet。
？Mommy！？ The boys abandoned their day…trip bag and threw themselves face…first into the ivory
boucl？ of her knee…length Chanel pencil skirt。
？Packing up for an outing？？ Ms。 Morgan asked in an ？ber…fake； high…pitched tone； backing away
from the twins。
Very perceptive； Mom。
？Thought we？d head to the Central Park Zoo today；？ Vanessa explained。
？Oh dear；？ clucked Allison。 ？Central Park？ You remember what happened last time。？
Of course Vanessa remembered： she？d never forget the sight of Dan in neon yellow kneepads and
Rollerblades； hand in hand with another girl。 A long…haired； spandex…clad； horrifically perky girl。
It had been so hilariously bizarre and so pletely heartbreaking。 Smoking a cigarette； scruffy
rock star hair matted； dirty T…shirt； long…to…the…point…of…ridiculous puke…colored cords？thatwas the
Dan Humphrey she knew。
And loved？
But of course that？s not what Vanessa？s militant new boss was referring to。 She meant that the
twins had ruined their clothes eating Fudgsicles and stayed up half the night yelling； ？Fudgie…poo！？
because of the sugar。
But Vanessa couldn？t stop thinking about Dan。 Things were kind of back to normal now。
Oralmost normal。 Maybe it was just from lack of sleep； or the fact that she was so relieved that
he？d ditched the blond yoga…toned health…nut bombshell and the old Dan was back； but damn； that
morning in the kitchen Vanessa had barely been able to resist kissing him。 He just looked so sweet；
gulping bad coffee from that lumpy mug； sleep crusties still stuck in his eyes。 It almost felt 。 。 。
natural； the way she？d always pictured their life together。 Except theyweren？t together。 They w