candles out on the sunporch, turn on some music, carry out the fresh fruit and cheese platter, and mingle around, chatting with the guests.
The Red Hats are off to dinner at Wimpy’s in Osterville and then karaoke night at the British American Brew Pub in Falmouth. They’ve been practicing some songs all day. They show me their red boas and test out a few lines of a song from the musical Chicago. Oh, I wish Chickles Blazer was here. Mama B would love these gals!
Up in my room, I check out my books. Tonight I’m in the mood for comedy. Mrs. S was surprised that I hadn’t read The Whipping Boy by Sid Fleischman. Great illustration on the cover. I plop down on my bed, dig into the fish, and start reading.
Mrs. S was right. This is a hoot.
I brush my teeth, which are all red from the fish, and think about what I’m going to wear for Ruthie and Spruce’s wedding. They’re coming Thursday. No need for a rehearsal Friday; it will be such a simple affair. I look through my closet, not sure what to wear. I don’t know how formal Ruthie’s going to be. I pull out the dress I wore in Suzie Jube’s wedding. It’s pale yellow, the color of sherbet, silky, with a poofy skirt that swirled when I danced. I felt like a princess in this dress. I was Suzie’s maid of honor. I try it on. Yep, still looks good. I hang it back up and pull out the dress I wore the following day for Mum and Riley’s wedding. I was Mum’s maid of honor, too. This is a simple linen sundress, pale pink. It looked so nice with my silver locket and little silver dangling earrings. I try on the dress. Yep, still good.
I pick up The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes, written more than sixty years ago. I leaf through itbefore I start. There are black-and-white illustrations throughout with bursts of watercolor colors here and there. It’s about a girl named Wanda who wears the same old dress to school every day, and is teased by the “in girls” who have many beautiful dresses. It’s a quick read, a powerful story. Definitely a skinny-punch.
Enough books for today. Time for a movie. I change into my pajamas and shut off the light. As soon as my head hits the pillow, the summer matinee starts in my mind.
JFK and I bike along that sunny bike path, the wind whistling, boats bobbing in the water. He looks at me with those sea-blue eyes and kisses ice cream from my nose.
I wish JFK could see my first wedding. I wish we could dance all night.
CHAPTER 16
The Cape Cod Beach Boys
Art is a jealous mistress.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wednesday sails by in a minute.
I visit Salty. Hoorah, still no owner.
I see Tina and Ruby as they are coming out of Cohen’s card shop in town. Their “book” is “going to be a bestseller!”
“It’s not all wordy like a lot of books,” Tina says. “Just a little bio on each boy…places where they like to take dates, their taste in music…you know, just the important stuff.”
So far, they’ve got twenty boys featured from four Cape towns and they’re not stopping till they hit Provincetown. That’s the final point on the Cape. After that, they’d have to head out onto the Atlantic, huntingfor hunky fishermen. Which might actually not be a bad idea for a sequel.
“Wow, that sounds like a lot of work,” I say.
“The price one pays for art,” Ruby says, wiping her brow like she’s been cleaning toilets all day. Tina giggles.
“Do you have a title yet?” I ask. Wait until I tell Mariel about this.
“ The Beach Boys of Cape Cod ,” Tina says.
“I like it,” I say.
“We’re not sure about the price,” Ruby says. “We’re thinking fifty, sixty bucks.”
“For a book?” I say.
“Well, it’s words and pictures ,” Tina says. “And wait until you see these photographs. Ruby is a really good photographer. I mean, this is going to be like the summer swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated , except it’s all boys. All buff and beautiful…”
“In bathing suits, right?” I say.
“Yes,
The Red Hats are off to dinner at Wimpy’s in Osterville and then karaoke night at the British American Brew Pub in Falmouth. They’ve been practicing some songs all day. They show me their red boas and test out a few lines of a song from the musical Chicago. Oh, I wish Chickles Blazer was here. Mama B would love these gals!
Up in my room, I check out my books. Tonight I’m in the mood for comedy. Mrs. S was surprised that I hadn’t read The Whipping Boy by Sid Fleischman. Great illustration on the cover. I plop down on my bed, dig into the fish, and start reading.
Mrs. S was right. This is a hoot.
I brush my teeth, which are all red from the fish, and think about what I’m going to wear for Ruthie and Spruce’s wedding. They’re coming Thursday. No need for a rehearsal Friday; it will be such a simple affair. I look through my closet, not sure what to wear. I don’t know how formal Ruthie’s going to be. I pull out the dress I wore in Suzie Jube’s wedding. It’s pale yellow, the color of sherbet, silky, with a poofy skirt that swirled when I danced. I felt like a princess in this dress. I was Suzie’s maid of honor. I try it on. Yep, still looks good. I hang it back up and pull out the dress I wore the following day for Mum and Riley’s wedding. I was Mum’s maid of honor, too. This is a simple linen sundress, pale pink. It looked so nice with my silver locket and little silver dangling earrings. I try on the dress. Yep, still good.
I pick up The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes, written more than sixty years ago. I leaf through itbefore I start. There are black-and-white illustrations throughout with bursts of watercolor colors here and there. It’s about a girl named Wanda who wears the same old dress to school every day, and is teased by the “in girls” who have many beautiful dresses. It’s a quick read, a powerful story. Definitely a skinny-punch.
Enough books for today. Time for a movie. I change into my pajamas and shut off the light. As soon as my head hits the pillow, the summer matinee starts in my mind.
JFK and I bike along that sunny bike path, the wind whistling, boats bobbing in the water. He looks at me with those sea-blue eyes and kisses ice cream from my nose.
I wish JFK could see my first wedding. I wish we could dance all night.
CHAPTER 16
The Cape Cod Beach Boys
Art is a jealous mistress.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wednesday sails by in a minute.
I visit Salty. Hoorah, still no owner.
I see Tina and Ruby as they are coming out of Cohen’s card shop in town. Their “book” is “going to be a bestseller!”
“It’s not all wordy like a lot of books,” Tina says. “Just a little bio on each boy…places where they like to take dates, their taste in music…you know, just the important stuff.”
So far, they’ve got twenty boys featured from four Cape towns and they’re not stopping till they hit Provincetown. That’s the final point on the Cape. After that, they’d have to head out onto the Atlantic, huntingfor hunky fishermen. Which might actually not be a bad idea for a sequel.
“Wow, that sounds like a lot of work,” I say.
“The price one pays for art,” Ruby says, wiping her brow like she’s been cleaning toilets all day. Tina giggles.
“Do you have a title yet?” I ask. Wait until I tell Mariel about this.
“ The Beach Boys of Cape Cod ,” Tina says.
“I like it,” I say.
“We’re not sure about the price,” Ruby says. “We’re thinking fifty, sixty bucks.”
“For a book?” I say.
“Well, it’s words and pictures ,” Tina says. “And wait until you see these photographs. Ruby is a really good photographer. I mean, this is going to be like the summer swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated , except it’s all boys. All buff and beautiful…”
“In bathing suits, right?” I say.
“Yes,
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