By Marie Bostwick
Marie Bostwick weaves the unforgettable tale of 4 very assorted girls whose paths move, altering their lives endlessly . . . it is a good distance from citadel worthy, Texas, to New Bern, Connecticut, but it purely takes an afternoon within the fascinating Yankee city to make Evelyn Dixon become aware of she's stumbled on her new domestic. The abrupt finish of her marriage used to be Evelyn's warning call to get busy chasing her dream of commencing a duvet store. discovering a storefront is straightforward adequate; beginning a brand new existence isn't really. Little does Evelyn think it is going to deliver a trio like Abigail Burgess, her niece Liza, and Margot Matthews via her door . . . stricken and offended after her mother's demise, Liza threatens to embarrass her Aunt Abigail in every single place city except she joins her for quilting periods. A sufferer of downsizing on the height of her profession, Margot hopes an occasion hosted via the duvet store can be a nice likelihood to network-and hold from loss of life of boredom . . . As they sew their special creations, Evelyn, Abigail, Liza, and Margot shape a sisterhood they by no means sought-but person who they're going to be pleased about while the unforeseen offers a poignant reminder of the only thread that binds us all . . . compliment for the Novels of Marie Bostwick Fields of Gold "A touching story"-Patricia Gaffney "Gripping, heartwarming"-Dorothy Garlock On Wings of the Morning "Will set your center to hovering" -Debbie Macomber
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My closet is ﬁlled with classic clothing of excellent quality—well-cut wool slacks, silk blouses, an array of cashmere sweaters, and, for more formal occasions like this evening, an assortment of black cocktail dresses. Oh, and shoes. Good shoes are a must. My preference is for Stuart Weitzman; classic designs that are just different enough to be interesting and have heels you can actually walk in—not far, mind you, but far enough. If you carry yourself well, that is really all you need in the way of fashion.
Deﬁnitely no more than seventeen ﬁfty,” he declared and then, seeing the look on my face, quickly added, “but don’t worry! I’m sure you can bill the landlord for it. ” “No, I’m leasing. I signed a two-year lease with the stipulation that I wouldn’t have to pay anything for the ﬁrst six months while I did the remodeling. At the time, I thought I was so clever. ” I rolled my eyes at the memory of my own naïveté. “But ﬁrst there was a holdup on the closing of my house in Texas, so I didn’t have the money to start remodeling, then I unknowingly hired an architect who was the estranged ex-husband of the woman who issues building permits, then my sheetrocker decided to go to Florida to pick up some work after hurricane season, then I managed to order the only carpet in the store that was backordered for a month, not that anyone thought to tell me this at the time!
Thank you, Gina. ” Charlie nodded his head in my direction. The waitress put both plates down on the table and left to tend to other customers. The platters were loaded with a dozen different miniature entrées and appetizers, all beautifully presented. There was a piece of ﬁsh cut into a diamond shape, with golden grill marks crisscrossing the tender white ﬂesh swimming in a brilliant green sauce, a miniature crab cake sitting on top of a single leaf of bright red radicchio, a slice of sizzling steak with a pink center that smelled of ginger and garlic and spices I couldn’t name, and several other dishes, including a small duck leg placed artfully on top of a mound of ruby-colored chutney—the conﬁt that made food critics cry.