“Cahoon said Jenny can’t go until she’s a teenager,” Cecile said. “I fail to see how that can possibly affect us.” Her mother slid the mascara wand out of the tube and leaned closer to the mirror. “Your grandfather’s on the board and you’re going.” Cecile sprawled on her parents’ bed. She was watching her mother, who was in her bathrobe and was sitting in front of her dressing table. Steamy air from the bathroom drifted in moist and fragrant tendrils into the room. Natalie sat on a low stool bes...ide her mother, as close as she could get. She stared raptly at her mother’s face, trying to memorize every brushstroke. “Will there be an orchestra?” Natalie asked. “There’ll be live music of some kind, I imagine….” Their mother’s voice trailed off as she moved the brush up over her eyelashes again and again. She sat back to look; she leaned forward and applied more. “Fabulous,” Natalie breathed. Whether she was enchanted by the orchestra or her mother’s hypnotic motions, Cecile couldn’t tell.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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