"What would your life be like?"
Leah Stewart, The Myth of You and Me
We took our coffee and climbed up to the flat, lattice-framed roof as sunbeams sliced through the overhanging branches. "...Let's do this every morning. We'll come up here and have some tree house tributes..."
At six, with the sun low and the temperature falling, we regrouped in the tree house with my pitcher of margaritas, Johanna's chicken salad and the last of the local tomatoes bought for the holiday weekend.
By the time Lilly shared her margarita's secret ingredient ("I set off the lime with a touch of simple syrup, same as I make for sweet tea.") we were sipping on the roof, the air sweet with honeysuckle and a CD of Cuban salsa music.
Three Dilemmas, Two Friends, One Deserted Tree House
During a simmering summer on Lake Allamuchy