Hallie Hath No Fury . . .
“my mom said as she looked down at the last cardboard box with triumph. She looked across the kitchen at me and folded her arms. “How’s your room? Unpacked?”
“More or less,” I said evasively as I crossed around the kitchen island behind her and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. We were back in the Hamptons, in the house my mother had spent all winter building and decorating.
As soon as she could afford it, we’d started coming back here for summers. I think it might have been a pride thing fo...r my mom. She wanted to forget about the time she’d been kicked out of a tiny rental cabin and had to return to Brooklyn in disgrace. She’d rented a series of larger and larger houses until she bought the land, had the previous house torn down, and a new one built from scratch. It was big and beautiful, done in a modern style. Sometimes, when I woke up early, I would see my mother standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced our ocean view, a look of contentment on her face.MoreLess
“More or less,” I said evasively as I crossed around the kitchen island behind her and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. We were back in the Hamptons, in the house my mother had spent all winter building and decorating.
As soon as she could afford it, we’d started coming back here for summers. I think it might have been a pride thing fo...r my mom. She wanted to forget about the time she’d been kicked out of a tiny rental cabin and had to return to Brooklyn in disgrace. She’d rented a series of larger and larger houses until she bought the land, had the previous house torn down, and a new one built from scratch. It was big and beautiful, done in a modern style. Sometimes, when I woke up early, I would see my mother standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced our ocean view, a look of contentment on her face.MoreLess
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