Rich Friends
Page 48
Since morning, Em’s wedding had been on her mind, and now she was picturing the too-pink stucco of the Wynan’s house, she was seeing Caroline, rosy and handsome with graduated pearls knotted. There was Em, dwarfed by a cathedral train. And at a little distance, herself. Beverly alone. In that powder blue with pads widening her shoulders. Three girls. She tried to think of them as daughters. As children of the Lindes and the Wynans. Impossible. Rather, it was as if the three of them had sprung to life in a stylized Rousseau-innocent meadow, breathing less smoggy, more hopeful air. Their goals and dreams they had believed peculiar to that newly peace-blessed Truman era. They had recognized no legacy of the past. They had felt they owed nothing to the past. They had refused to crib from the past. They were the first of a new race.
To wish anyone happiness forever and ever! Could there be any remark more oblivious to lives that had come before? All her observations must have told her that her parents and the Wynans were not happy in the corny Warner Brothers style she had wished for Em and Sheridan. Yet she had meant the words. More, she had expected them to come true, and—oddly enough—had considered babies an essential element. Babies who, it should have been equally apparent, would have their own brave new world.
The shadow of a bird flickered on grass. A breeze jostled a napkin to her feet. Picking up the small square, absently smoothing it, her head tilted toward wisps of party laughter. She saw Dan looking around. Looking for me, she thought. Once she had been shamed by her need for solitude. Now she understood that solitude was the balloon that carried her to the real meaning of her life. Yet she couldn’t rid herself of that old guilt. Why do I have to be by my lonesome? Pushing back soft, graying hair, she went quickly down the small incline.
She passed her mother, who leaned toward Mrs. Wynan.
“Cricket and Vliet make a lovely couple,” said Mrs. Linde, her firm voice betraying none of the indulgence with which most people address the senile. “I always think there’s something so hopeful about a wedding, don’t you?”
About the Author
Jacqueline Briskin (1927–2014) was the New York Times–bestselling author of fourteen historical novels that reflect the tumultuous changes in American society that she witnessed over her lifetime. Complete with dynamic storylines, vibrant characters, and passionate romantic relationships, her novels have sold more than twenty million copies worldwide and have been translated into twenty-six languages.
Briskin was born in London, England, the granddaughter of the chief rabbi of Dublin, Ireland. Her family moved to Beverly Hills, California, to escape Adolf Hitler and religious orthodoxy. A few years later, she married her best friend and the love of her life, Bert, whose family was deeply embedded in Hollywood and the movie business. When Briskin’s three children were little more than toddlers, she attended a class at UCLA entitled “The Craft of Fiction.” To her surprise, it was a class about writing fiction rather than reading fiction. And so her career began.
Over the next forty years, many of Briskin’s books topped the New York Times bestseller list. Her adoptive home of Los Angeles and her husband’s old stomping ground of Hollywood often play a prominent role in her meticulously researched books.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1976 by Jacqueline Briskin
Cover design by Mimi Bark
ISBN: 978-1-4532-9340-9
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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