The Sisterhood of the Dropped Stitches Read Free Page B

I haven’t even come close to meeting it.
    My goal is to have three dates with a man, or men, I could see myself with long-term. Carly suggested the long-term addition, and I know now I shouldn’t have listened. Carly gets asked for so many dates she can be picky about long-term attraction.
    I’m not Carly. If men ask me out, it’s obviously not about looks. I have to rely on my personality here. My skin is not spotty, but its color is uneven—I don’t have the English skin that’s like fine porcelain; mine’s more like thick white crockery that’s been given a sturdy glaze. Plus, my lips are too thin and my cheekbones are not pronounced enough for real beauty.
    Not that I’m a wreck, by any means. I look wholesome, but I’m certainly not Rose Queen material as Carly is. The point being that I need to count all of my dates—long-term and short-term and anything in between.
    Even at that, I wasn’t worried when I first set the goal, because a year is a long time. How could I have known I’d procrastinate? The problem was, I didn’t want to be on a manhunt. I just wanted it to happen, you know?
    I think it was all the philosophizing with the quotes that wore down my good sense to the point that I even made this kind of a goal. The others brought in some quotes that made a person think anything was possible if the whole group worked on it. After we’d been bald and scared together, we didn’t have any barriers left. Once we’d reached our five-year marker, anything seemed possible. I’m lucky I didn’t vow to become an astronaut and fly to the moon.
    Usually that kind of soaring enthusiasm is a good thing, but lately—well, at least since the big Thursday is coming up so fast—I’ve begun to wonder if some of those in the Sisterhood haven’t grown too supportive of seeing me actually meet my goal. They keep saying Friday, Saturday and Sunday are all excellent date nights. I’ll be doing good if they don’t hurry me out of our meeting tonight with orders to find some man on the street to have coffee with me before the diner closes.
    Come to think of it, there is that coffee place down the street in De Lacey Alley. There might be a busboy there who will sit down at a table with me and have a cup of coffee if I pay the bill. I wonder if that would count?
    We make too much of dates in our culture anyway. In some countries, just giving a man a look would be equivalent to a date—and I’ve certainly looked at men in the past year. Don’t you think that should count for something?

Chapter Two
    Please understand that there is no depression in this house; we are not interested in the possibilities of defeat, they do not exist.
    â€”Queen Victoria
    C arly brought this quote to the Sisterhood one day when we were all feeling discouraged. Carly thought the queen said it when England was at war. Carly isn’t keen on war, but she, of course, always picks quotes from the royals and movie stars. I wonder sometimes why she doesn’t get an agent and try to get on the big screen.
    Carly would be a beautiful movie star. Besides, it would give her something to do with her days—not that she isn’t already doing profitable things. She has her charities, and she’s taking one or two Interior Design classes from some private school. Really, Isuspect she’s just marking time until she marries some nice, rich man who can support her in her San Marino lifestyle.
    But until she gets married, I worry that Carly worries too much about the rest of us. Does that make sense? She just seems to take everything to heart.
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    Okay, so Carly’s right—I have to admit I have over thirty baseball caps and have never played the game. I’ve watched enough games with my dad, though, so in a way, I’ve earned the caps. I think Carly should take that into account instead of standing beside Becca in The Pews,