My sister Emma blew into the country club dining room and conned the waiter into bringing her a bloodyNew Yorkstrip. Then she planted her elbows on the pink tablecloth and laid down the conversational ground rules. She said, “I’ll choke the first person who brings up carbohydrates as a topic of serious discussion.” Which caused the fur-and-face-lift ladies to take their coffee cups and flee our table at the Daffodil Luncheon, leaving the three of us alone for a sisterly squabble. “Oh, Em,” said Libby, who had called us together to mend fences. “You couldn’t have worn a decent pair of shoes?” Emma had obviously come from the barn, because her riding boots were caked with a springscented substance that she was gracious enough to disguise by lighting a cigarette against club rules, of course. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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