Cassandra got out of bed first. Sylvie, sans iced Americano and nursing her now-bandaged thumb, refused to budge. Finally: “You go,” she commanded Cassandra. “You go drag the table down to the corner and start setting up. I’ll join you.” Drag the table? Drag the table on her own? This was not, so...
It had been a restaurant called Peasant Stock, and they had both worked there. Like their marriage, though, Peasant Stock was no more. What did my mother feel, I wondered, finding herself a divorced woman with two young children to support in the exact same neighborhood wh...
Clover said that I could wear my Catherine Deneuve dress, the navy-blue shift with the white Peter Pan collar. I said I thought maybe it wasn’t dressy enough but she said: “Oh no, trust me. It’s exactly right.” That’s a phrase of Clover’s. It’s exactly right. She says it whenever she approves of ...