“Sometimes you hear men refer to their wives like that. The wife. I hate that. What I needed to know was, was this the Toby? Who knew the answer? Who wouldn't smirk when I asked? Who wouldn't give me a list of things my father had done wrong? Who would give me the answer I wanted, which was that Angus had made up his Toby, and this Toby—another Toby entirely—sat beside me because he thought I looked interesting, and possibly pretty. He was not related to me. But Toby, whoever he was, vanished wi...th his friends while Carolyn and I pedaled home to change clothes and help with dinner, although Aunt Maggie was so organized there was nothing to help with. Annette and I sat by the pool while Carolyn prepared for our picnic. First she covered the large redwood table with a scarlet cotton cloth that had weights sewn in the corners so it wouldn't blow away. Then she took four white runners, which she thumbtacked right down into the table, making eight place mats. Horizontally down the center, creating a plaid, she tacked a narrow, brilliant blue ribbon.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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