Charlie was in a green and white print dress with flat jew eled sandals, and the other girls were in an assortment of cute dresses and tight jeans, with lots of makeup and jewelry.
Frozen margaritas were being downed by the dozen, and when the lights were dimmed and the music was turned up, the girls were the first to grab the waiters and dance raucously on the tables, while the rest of the restaurant cheered and clapped, before joining in.
Kit was self-conscious, at best. She had never been a big girls’ night out person, but she had to admit she had fun, once the margaritas had loosened her up a bit; and the next time they arranged a night, she went all out with a flippy pink mini-dress and sparkly eyeshadow.
“That’s more like it!” Tracy had hugged her approvingly. “Now you look like one of the girls.”
“As opposed to what?” Kit said, bemused. “One of the boys?”
“I just meant you look gorgeous,” Tracy said, and Kit, who hadn’t ever managed to quit her search for approval from other women—thank you, Mother —had beamed.
Kit shouts up the stairs to hurry the children as their father is waiting, giving Adam an apologetic shrug. He smiles in return, and they both stand there, awkward suddenly, waiting for the children to thunder down the stairs.
“See you, Mom!” The kids whirl past her, not even stopping to give her a kiss good-bye.
“Hey!” Adam roars. “Go back and give your mother a kiss.”
“Sorry, Mom,” they say sheepishly, and she catches Adam’s eye as she straightens up from kissing Buckley and thanks him with her eyes. He nods, and for a minute she feels a pang of loss.
Then his phone buzzes, and he quickly reads through a text, a small smile playing on his lips as he does so.
She has heard through the grapevine that he is dating many women and she realizes this is from one of them.
Oh screw him, she thinks. Saying good-bye, she goes to clean up the kitchen while she waits for Edie.
Chapter Four
T racy is the first to arrive at the bookstore, and seeing no one there she knows, she heads over to the coffee bar and orders a mint tea while she waits.
She has dressed carefully today. Not one of her usual skin-tight colorful dresses that show off her yoga-toned body to perfection, but something far more subdued. A white shirt tucked into jeans, and a big silver-buckled turquoise-studded western belt, suede ballet flats on her feet, her hair drawn back in a low, elegant ponytail, and glasses.
She wasn’t sure about the glasses, put them on, took them off, put them on again. Was it too contrived, perhaps? Too Why, Miss Jones, I never realized you were so beautiful ?
She has worn contacts for years, was thinking about now investing in Lasik, except the thought of it terrified her, and she was so used to the contacts they never really bothered her. Wearing glasses has always made her feel like the nerdy schoolgirl she once was, long before she discovered the transformative effects of yoga, when her hair was dark and frizzy, and her thighs rubbed together when she walked.
At the ripe old age of forty-one, Tracy has mastered the art of transformation, morphing into a serene, peaceful yogini now she is in Highfield, and finally away from the storm of her early life in California.
Occasionally, Tracy will pull her pictures down from the attic of her house. She keeps them under lock and key, doesn’t want anyone to see who she was in any of her former lives, and even now she is stunned when she flicks through, studies the unhappy, chubby girl, the sullen teenager, the promiscuous twenty-something party girl and the wealthy, polished thirty-something housewife.
She had never been frightened of forty, had always felt that forty would give her the greatest transformation yet, lead her into the best years of her life, and so far this has been partly true, although there are pieces of her past she is not able to shake, no matter how hard she tries.
To look at her, you would
Frozen margaritas were being downed by the dozen, and when the lights were dimmed and the music was turned up, the girls were the first to grab the waiters and dance raucously on the tables, while the rest of the restaurant cheered and clapped, before joining in.
Kit was self-conscious, at best. She had never been a big girls’ night out person, but she had to admit she had fun, once the margaritas had loosened her up a bit; and the next time they arranged a night, she went all out with a flippy pink mini-dress and sparkly eyeshadow.
“That’s more like it!” Tracy had hugged her approvingly. “Now you look like one of the girls.”
“As opposed to what?” Kit said, bemused. “One of the boys?”
“I just meant you look gorgeous,” Tracy said, and Kit, who hadn’t ever managed to quit her search for approval from other women—thank you, Mother —had beamed.
Kit shouts up the stairs to hurry the children as their father is waiting, giving Adam an apologetic shrug. He smiles in return, and they both stand there, awkward suddenly, waiting for the children to thunder down the stairs.
“See you, Mom!” The kids whirl past her, not even stopping to give her a kiss good-bye.
“Hey!” Adam roars. “Go back and give your mother a kiss.”
“Sorry, Mom,” they say sheepishly, and she catches Adam’s eye as she straightens up from kissing Buckley and thanks him with her eyes. He nods, and for a minute she feels a pang of loss.
Then his phone buzzes, and he quickly reads through a text, a small smile playing on his lips as he does so.
She has heard through the grapevine that he is dating many women and she realizes this is from one of them.
Oh screw him, she thinks. Saying good-bye, she goes to clean up the kitchen while she waits for Edie.
Chapter Four
T racy is the first to arrive at the bookstore, and seeing no one there she knows, she heads over to the coffee bar and orders a mint tea while she waits.
She has dressed carefully today. Not one of her usual skin-tight colorful dresses that show off her yoga-toned body to perfection, but something far more subdued. A white shirt tucked into jeans, and a big silver-buckled turquoise-studded western belt, suede ballet flats on her feet, her hair drawn back in a low, elegant ponytail, and glasses.
She wasn’t sure about the glasses, put them on, took them off, put them on again. Was it too contrived, perhaps? Too Why, Miss Jones, I never realized you were so beautiful ?
She has worn contacts for years, was thinking about now investing in Lasik, except the thought of it terrified her, and she was so used to the contacts they never really bothered her. Wearing glasses has always made her feel like the nerdy schoolgirl she once was, long before she discovered the transformative effects of yoga, when her hair was dark and frizzy, and her thighs rubbed together when she walked.
At the ripe old age of forty-one, Tracy has mastered the art of transformation, morphing into a serene, peaceful yogini now she is in Highfield, and finally away from the storm of her early life in California.
Occasionally, Tracy will pull her pictures down from the attic of her house. She keeps them under lock and key, doesn’t want anyone to see who she was in any of her former lives, and even now she is stunned when she flicks through, studies the unhappy, chubby girl, the sullen teenager, the promiscuous twenty-something party girl and the wealthy, polished thirty-something housewife.
She had never been frightened of forty, had always felt that forty would give her the greatest transformation yet, lead her into the best years of her life, and so far this has been partly true, although there are pieces of her past she is not able to shake, no matter how hard she tries.
To look at her, you would
Similar Books
Whisper of Memory (Whispering Woods Book 2)
Brinda Berry
I Had a Favorite Dress
Boni Ashburn
Crash: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance
Sophie Sawyer
The Trash Haulers
Richard Herman
It's Not Luck
Eliyahu M. Goldratt
Chapter & Hearse
Lorna Barnett
Out of Bounds
Beverley Naidoo
Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes
Timothy R. O'Donnell
The Truth Seeker
Dee Henderson