The weather wasn't doing him any favors. He raised the shades and beach light poured into the classroom. Summerlust came wafting off the bared arms and legs of boys and girls alike.
"He and his wife just had their fourth child. I told you, didn't I, they built that enormous house out in Paradise Valley—Al, didn't you count eight bedrooms?"
Alfred gave her a steady, unblinking look. Chip leaned on the Door Close button.
"Dad and I were at the housewarming in June," Enid s…
Chip's problem was a loss of confidence. Gone were the days when he could afford to epater les bourgeois. Except for his Manhattan apartment and his handsome girlfriend, Julia Vrais, he now had almost nothing to persuade himself that he was a functioning male adult, no accomplishments to compare wi…
[...] the whole shuffled pathos of a refugee existence—non- consecutive issues of Good Housekeeping, black-and-white snapshots of Enid in the 1940s, brown recipes on high-acid paper that called for wilted lettuce, the current month's telephone and gas bills, the detailed First Notice from the medic…
The madness of an autumn prairie cold front coming through. You could feel it: something terrible was going to happen. The sun low in the sky, a minor light, a cooling star. Gust after gust of disorder. Trees restless, temperatures falling, the whole northern religion of things coming to an end. …
