Girls in White Dresses
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Isabella, Mary, and Lauren feel like everyone they know is getting married. On Sunday after Sunday, at bridal shower after bridal shower, they coo over toasters, collect ribbons and wrapping paper, eat minuscule sandwiches and cakes. They wear pastel dresses and drink champagne by the case, but amid the celebration these women have their own lives to contend with: Isabella is working a dead-end job, Mary is dating a nice guy with an awful mother, and Lauren is waitressing at a midtown bar and wondering why she's attracted to the sleazy bartender.
With a wry sense of humor, Jennifer Close brings us through those thrilling, bewildering years of early adulthood as she pulls us inside the circle of these friends, perfectly capturing the wild frustrations and soaring joys of modern life.
This is a Borzoi Book Published by Alfred A. Knopf Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Close All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. www.aaknopf.com Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA Close, Jennifer. Girls in white dresses / by Jennifer Close.—1st ed. p. cm. eISBN: 978-0-307-70041-4 1. Women—Fiction. 2. Chick lit.
noise when they hit the ground. Lauren watched as the white light clouds soiled themselves, turning an army brown and finally a slimy black. She lay there, feeling the people around her gathering their things and leaving. But she stayed, watching the clouds quiver and finally release. She kept her eyes open the whole time. She didn’t even blink. One drop hit her chest and stayed intact, a tiny puddle of rain wobbling on top of her skin. Others fell on her face, sliding off the grooves of her
hands and grasped their arm with his left hand. He kissed girls on the cheeks and remembered names. He was always interested in conversation, tilting his head at whoever was talking, nodding and interjecting every so often, but not enough to be obnoxious. “He’s the one!” Isabella’s friends said. “We can’t believe you found him!” The ones with boyfriends and fiancés were relieved for Isabella. She was twenty-seven and they all agreed it was about time. The single ones were sort of happy and a
at the same time. When her boyfriend cheated on her, Cate offered sympathy and Bridget just shook her head. “Can you believe,” she said, “that he’s so scared of being in love with me that he cheated?” Cate logged these stories in her brain, saving them up to tell friends later. She had a whole catalog of Bridget stories to pull out at parties. They were unbelievable. The girl was a complete loon. It was comforting to Cate that no matter how messed up she was or how many mistakes she made, she
read the paper while Isabella packed for her trip. Winston was curled up on his chest. Every so often, Winston lifted his head and licked Harrison’s chin. Winston was a little white fluff of a dog and when he sat still, he looked like a stuffed animal. Isabella loved him more than anything. As soon as she got her suitcase out, he wouldn’t look at her. He turned his head away and only paid attention to Harrison. “Harrison, if we break up, would you give me the dog?” Isabella asked. Harrison