...and effortless in a really good haircut and black Capri slacks. I offered my usual: Triscuits topped with squares of Kraft’s... cheddar slices on one of Mom’s cast-off dinner plates.
Cat tossed her head sending perfectly highlighted burnt sienna tresses away from her face. She thanked me but set down an ironstone platter of crisped bruschetta slices layered with a tapenade of what looked to be minced sun-dried tomatoes and encrusted Kalamata olives on dollops of goat cheese perched perkily on shredded basil leaves.
(She) took my chartreuse plate. “You collect Russel Wright! Classic design and aren’t they fabulous colors?”
I said I did and yes, fabulous, which I thought more sophisticated than the truth: my brothers and I had chipped most of Mom’s everyday Wright dinner dishes and she finally relegated the rest to the cottage about 1963.
Johanna Lawrence Wheeler, The Chick Palace
Three Dilemmas, Two friends and One Deserted Tree House
during a simmering summer on Lake Allamuchy
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