Juliana and I sit on the small terrace off the kitchen’s breakfast nook at Meadow Farm making polite chit-chat, drinking our iced tea. I wouldn’t say we’ve connected, but we’re being kind of friendly in a superficial way. I glance down at her feet expecting to see those apple-green suede loafers I found in her closet, but she’s still wearing flip-flops, plus the faded jeans. She’s changed the tee-shirt, though, to a loose oxford-blue “dress” shirt. Is it one of Frank’s? Whatever. She looks great, of course.
Laura joins us and plops down on a chaise, feigning drama-queen exhaustion. She’s just home from nanny-duty with the entitled, bratty McCann sisters, who aren’t quite old enough for sleep-away camp.
“Juliana, Laura should be getting combat pay for this job,” I say, chuckling. Every day my niece shares new stories of Lifestyles of the Hyper-Rich and Over-the-Top. “How’d it go today, kiddo?”
“Aunt Ronnie, they’re worse than
The Real Housewives of New Jersey
!” she exclaims.
“Laura.” Juliana leans forward. “I have to hear all about how your charges behave worse than
Real Housewives
.” I observe warmth in her eyes as she looks at Laura. Am I witnessing a thaw in this goddess-beauty?
“Okay. Listen to this,” Laura says. “Mrs. McCann found the girls some really cute fake Louis Vuitton bags from a street vendor when she was in the city today.”
“How adorable,” I answer.
“What a nice mother,” Juliana adds.
“Wait.” Laura holds up her hands. “You haven’t heard the story part. Tiffany and Brittany grabbed the purses from their mom without saying thank you, checked them very closely, and then threw them on the ground.”
“What?” Juliana and I respond in unison.
“Those princesses could tell the bags were fakes—they looked pretty good to me—and they demanded their mother give them the real thing.” Laura shakes her head. “I wanted to strangle them.”
“Laura, do they speak to you the same way they speak to their mother?” I ask.
My niece waves me off and sips her drink. “That’s not the end of it, Aunt Ronnie.”
“How could it get any worse?” Juliana smiles. She seems to like my niece. Or is that because Laura is Frank’s daughter, and acting as though she likes Laura is strategically smart?
Don’t be such a cynic, Ronnie. Control your inner bitch.
“Well, it got worse.” Laura rolls her eyes and says to me, “You know, Aunt Ronnie, how Mrs. McCann has been making plans to take the girls to Nantucket for a week—you’ve heard me talk about it because I get a break then, too.” She pumps her fist. “Yea!”
“Go on,” I urge her.
“Well, she chats about it, and Brittany and Tiffany have another meltdown.”
“Nooo.” I smile at my niece’s latest nanny war story.
“How could Nantucket be a bad thing?” Juliana asks, taken aback.
“Well, it is—if you’re Brittany and Tiffany and want to go to Disney World,” Laura answers.
“Disney World?” Juliana exclaims. “I always wanted to go there as a kid.”
“Well, the girls recently went to a party and received a Disney World luxury guide by some expert as one of their party favors, and now that’s all they want to do. They
only
want to stay in the best hotels, have a limo drive them around, and book the VIP Guide Service so they can do more things.” Laura pauses to catch her breath.
“That’s it?” I smile.
“Hardly.” Laura’s eyes flash disbelief. “They want their mom to book them the most expensive Castle Package of Princess Perfect treatments that turns little girls into princesses at almost two-hundred dollars each. They
told
, not
asked
, Mrs. McCann to take them on a Disney fireworks cruise. And they practically turned blue in the face demanding their mother make reservations for them at Cinderella’s Royal Table.”
“What’s that?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“That’s a meal where they meet all the Disney princesses,” Laura
Laura joins us and plops down on a chaise, feigning drama-queen exhaustion. She’s just home from nanny-duty with the entitled, bratty McCann sisters, who aren’t quite old enough for sleep-away camp.
“Juliana, Laura should be getting combat pay for this job,” I say, chuckling. Every day my niece shares new stories of Lifestyles of the Hyper-Rich and Over-the-Top. “How’d it go today, kiddo?”
“Aunt Ronnie, they’re worse than
The Real Housewives of New Jersey
!” she exclaims.
“Laura.” Juliana leans forward. “I have to hear all about how your charges behave worse than
Real Housewives
.” I observe warmth in her eyes as she looks at Laura. Am I witnessing a thaw in this goddess-beauty?
“Okay. Listen to this,” Laura says. “Mrs. McCann found the girls some really cute fake Louis Vuitton bags from a street vendor when she was in the city today.”
“How adorable,” I answer.
“What a nice mother,” Juliana adds.
“Wait.” Laura holds up her hands. “You haven’t heard the story part. Tiffany and Brittany grabbed the purses from their mom without saying thank you, checked them very closely, and then threw them on the ground.”
“What?” Juliana and I respond in unison.
“Those princesses could tell the bags were fakes—they looked pretty good to me—and they demanded their mother give them the real thing.” Laura shakes her head. “I wanted to strangle them.”
“Laura, do they speak to you the same way they speak to their mother?” I ask.
My niece waves me off and sips her drink. “That’s not the end of it, Aunt Ronnie.”
“How could it get any worse?” Juliana smiles. She seems to like my niece. Or is that because Laura is Frank’s daughter, and acting as though she likes Laura is strategically smart?
Don’t be such a cynic, Ronnie. Control your inner bitch.
“Well, it got worse.” Laura rolls her eyes and says to me, “You know, Aunt Ronnie, how Mrs. McCann has been making plans to take the girls to Nantucket for a week—you’ve heard me talk about it because I get a break then, too.” She pumps her fist. “Yea!”
“Go on,” I urge her.
“Well, she chats about it, and Brittany and Tiffany have another meltdown.”
“Nooo.” I smile at my niece’s latest nanny war story.
“How could Nantucket be a bad thing?” Juliana asks, taken aback.
“Well, it is—if you’re Brittany and Tiffany and want to go to Disney World,” Laura answers.
“Disney World?” Juliana exclaims. “I always wanted to go there as a kid.”
“Well, the girls recently went to a party and received a Disney World luxury guide by some expert as one of their party favors, and now that’s all they want to do. They
only
want to stay in the best hotels, have a limo drive them around, and book the VIP Guide Service so they can do more things.” Laura pauses to catch her breath.
“That’s it?” I smile.
“Hardly.” Laura’s eyes flash disbelief. “They want their mom to book them the most expensive Castle Package of Princess Perfect treatments that turns little girls into princesses at almost two-hundred dollars each. They
told
, not
asked
, Mrs. McCann to take them on a Disney fireworks cruise. And they practically turned blue in the face demanding their mother make reservations for them at Cinderella’s Royal Table.”
“What’s that?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“That’s a meal where they meet all the Disney princesses,” Laura
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