Back in the minivan, Jordan made her way to West Elm, where the superm terjemahan - Back in the minivan, Jordan made her way to West Elm, where the superm Bahasa Indonesia Bagaimana mengatakan

Back in the minivan, Jordan made he

Back in the minivan, Jordan made her way to West Elm, where the supermarket was located, passing the small shops and establishments that were the lifeblood of the downtown area. Warburg’s small size had allowed it to retain its horsey country roots; its proximity to Washington, D.C., gave it a certain patina of sophistication. It was a town that supported three churches and an equally well-patronized liquor store that stocked Dom Perignon and single-malt whiskeys. There were four restaurants and a bagel shop that also served thick, hearty deli sandwiches and soups for the lunch crowd. Three or four days a week, Felix, one of the farm’s hands, would stop at Braverman’s Bagels to pick up bagels and smears for the hands’ mid-morning break. But today Jordan was doing a sandwich run for Margot and the guys after she’d done the shopping.
Many of the stores in town were independently owned—the Corner Bookstore had managed to survive in the era of Barnes & Noble and Amazon by joining forces with the small cafe next door and smashing through the adjoining wall so that patrons could wander from one space to the next and even buy a book to enjoy with their mocha latte. In the mid-morning the place was a meeting spot for mothers and their preschoolers. After three, teenagers invaded to sprawl on the sofas and armchairs and slurp their frappes and munch on chocolate chip muffins. In the evenings the bookstore ran several different book clubs, and on weekends the staff offered reading events for children.
Two doors down was True Beauty, a beauty salon with a crème de la crème day spa on the second floor, offering hot stone massages and aromatherapy body wraps for the likes of Nonie Harrison and her sister, Pamela Hood. The florist, Fleur de Lys, did a bustling business creating lush arrangements and exquisite posies for the steady stream of dinners and parties thrown by the social set. One of the bigger shops, J.T. Ross, was a women’s clothing store that carried Lily Pulitzer and Ralph Lauren. When Margot did a shoot for Ralph Lauren, the store blew up posters of her and hung them in the store’s windows. Afterward, the manager wrote a letter thanking Margot for what had been the best run on their inventory ever, hinting, too, that they couldn’t wait for her next shoot with Ralph.
Another boutique, Annabelle’s, bravely ventured beyond Scotch plaid and flamingo prints, but it, too, had gotten a publicity boost when word got out that Margot shopped there. With a life full-to-bursting with her new marriage, running the farm, and flying to New York for shoots brokered by her agent, Damien Barnes, she was less aware of the surreal celebrity status she’d attained. But as the mother of two school-aged children, and thus more involved in town life, Jordan was often made aware of Margot’s star power—and how a number of women resented her for it.
With Jordan it was a different story. They were either kind—too kind, regarding her with that odious light of pity in their eyes—or they kept her at a distance as if her divorce, like the nasty little cold Kate had brought home, was infectious. Both attitudes galled, and there were times Jordan dreamed of doing something that would shatter their notions with the force of a megaton bomb.
She never did, though, for despite her impatience with some of Warburg’s inhabitants, she had a deep-rooted affection for the town. Moving back had made her aware of how much she prized the sense of connection that came with living in a place where she knew almost everybody by name. And not everyone was petty or idiotic. She had friends here, other parents and many of Warburg’s merchants, like Sara and Adam Steadman, or Edie Morse, who owned Annabelle’s. But it had taken the divorce for her to realize that many of the couples in Georgetown with whom she and Richard had shared dinners and gone to parties had been Richard’s friends rather than hers. With the split had come the shift in allegiance, everyone moving into the “his” column.
She turned into the Safeway. The parking lot was crowded, as many of the townspeople preferred to park here, in the large lot, while they did other business, rather than waste time circling for a spot in the street. In this respect Jordan was no different. Parking by the low split-rail fence that wrapped around the lot’s perimeter, she checked her errand list and glanced at her watch, calculating. Yes, she could get the shopping done, go to the post office, pop into Braverman’s to pick up the sandwich order, and still make it to the preschool on time. If the sandwiches were ready and waiting, she might even be able to dash into the Corner Bookstore and buy a new Maisie book for Olivia. The adventures of the little girl mouse never failed to bring a smile to her daughter’s face.
Half an hour later, Jordan wheeled a shopping cart filled with groceries across the parking lot and stowed the bags in the back of the minivan. Feeling like a contestant in the game show Beat the Clock, she dashed around to the front passenger seat, gathered up the bills and letters to be mailed, and hurried down the street.
At the post office her errands race was hampered by a customer sending packages to Japan. By the time she reached Braverman’s Bagels, a line had already formed leading to where George Rollins manned the cash register.
“Hi, George,” she said when she reached him. “It’s busy today.”
“Hey, Jordan. Insane is more like it. Spring fever has struck. Everyone wants picnic sandwiches.”
“Is the order Margot called in ready yet?”
“Let me go ask Roger.” He stepped away from the register and went over to the back counter where five of the staff stood elbow to elbow building sandwiches, while those at the front counter sliced bagels and ladled homemade soup into cartons. George patted the deli owner’s shoulder and then pointed to her. She raised a hand in greeting.
“The order’ll be ready in five, Jordan,” Roger called.
“Thanks.”
George came back to the cash register. “Want something to drink while you wait for your order?”
“Actually, yes, can I have a large peach iced tea?” The tea here was delicious. Lightly sweetened, it came garnished with slices of peaches and sprigs of mint.
Sipping her iced tea, she made her way to the back of the deli to wait for her order to be completed. She entertained herself by reading the deli’s menu that was on an enormous blackboard suspended over the front counter. The board was filled with colored-chalk descriptions of equally colorful, and delicious, sandwich combinations and daily soup offerings.
“Jordan! Hi!”
Jordan turned. “Oh, Marla, how great to see you!” she said as she exchanged a quick hug with Marla Hamilton.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you around town.”
“The kids came down with a bug. Max and Kate only just went back to school today. Olivia’s still under the weather, but with half of Max’s class still out, I feel pretty lucky. And how are you? I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Absolutely famished. I’ve been with Nonie Harrison all morning. She was showing me her guest cottage and telling me what she and Owen Gage have decided to do with the interior.”
“Really?” A cold weight settled in her stomach. So Owen had his design team at work on the cottage. So much for the huge delay. She wondered what else Owen Gage had misled her about. Though it was like picking at a scab, somehow she couldn’t prevent herself from asking. “So what did he recommend to Nonie?”
“Well, lots of really good, practical ideas for the rooms, like putting in bookshelves in the living room so that her guests can curl up with a novel by the fire, and installing glass-faced wood cabinets in the kitchen to make it easier to find the dishes, especially useful for guests who don’t know the space. And they’re going to install this green marble for the countertops that’s called Verde Italia that Nonie could use with majolica pieces to add splashes of color and pattern. The colors they chose are just wonderful, Jordan. The master bathroom’s going to be done in ocean hues with a glass and stone mosaic for the walk-in shower, called Pacific Blue. The rest of the bathroom will have marble and ceramic tiles in a deeper hue. And the decorator had this idea for installing a double-ended claw-foot bathtub that is so romantic! I would love to have one to soak in alone. Or,” she paused, her eyes twinkling merrily, “now that Bruce and I are going to have the house to ourselves, I might invite him into the tub, too. We haven’t done that sort of thing in years.
“And if the tub hadn’t sold me, the decorator picked out the sweetest wallpaper by Jane Churchill for one of the smaller bedrooms. It has these Indian elephants. It was so whimsical yet tasteful. I simply adored it. I’ve made Nonie promise to put a word in for me so I can get bumped ahead on their waiting list. You must get her to invite you over the second the cottage is finished. I know you’re going to love how it looks.”
That wouldn’t be hard, Jordan thought, furious. From what Marla told her, Owen Gage had ripped off her every idea, right down to her suggestion of using majolica pieces to enliven the kitchen space. She’d known Nonie would go for that, because she loved to collect Victorian majolica. And now, piggybacking on her insights and creativity, he was going to get Marla’s business. Damn him.
Did the man have any principles? Dumb question. What really angered her was that there was no way to set Marla straight. It wasn’t only Owen who was being underhanded. Nonie was lying through her teeth by giving him credit for her ideas. Soon half the town would be discussing Owen Gage’s brilliant ideas.
“Marla, I haven’t told you but I’m opening my own des—”
Her overture was cut off by a shout of “Order’s all ready, Jordan.”
She turned. George was holding a large shopping bag aloft.
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Back in the minivan, Jordan made her way to West Elm, where the supermarket was located, passing the small shops and establishments that were the lifeblood of the downtown area. Warburg’s small size had allowed it to retain its horsey country roots; its proximity to Washington, D.C., gave it a certain patina of sophistication. It was a town that supported three churches and an equally well-patronized liquor store that stocked Dom Perignon and single-malt whiskeys. There were four restaurants and a bagel shop that also served thick, hearty deli sandwiches and soups for the lunch crowd. Three or four days a week, Felix, one of the farm’s hands, would stop at Braverman’s Bagels to pick up bagels and smears for the hands’ mid-morning break. But today Jordan was doing a sandwich run for Margot and the guys after she’d done the shopping.Many of the stores in town were independently owned—the Corner Bookstore had managed to survive in the era of Barnes & Noble and Amazon by joining forces with the small cafe next door and smashing through the adjoining wall so that patrons could wander from one space to the next and even buy a book to enjoy with their mocha latte. In the mid-morning the place was a meeting spot for mothers and their preschoolers. After three, teenagers invaded to sprawl on the sofas and armchairs and slurp their frappes and munch on chocolate chip muffins. In the evenings the bookstore ran several different book clubs, and on weekends the staff offered reading events for children.Two doors down was True Beauty, a beauty salon with a crème de la crème day spa on the second floor, offering hot stone massages and aromatherapy body wraps for the likes of Nonie Harrison and her sister, Pamela Hood. The florist, Fleur de Lys, did a bustling business creating lush arrangements and exquisite posies for the steady stream of dinners and parties thrown by the social set. One of the bigger shops, J.T. Ross, was a women’s clothing store that carried Lily Pulitzer and Ralph Lauren. When Margot did a shoot for Ralph Lauren, the store blew up posters of her and hung them in the store’s windows. Afterward, the manager wrote a letter thanking Margot for what had been the best run on their inventory ever, hinting, too, that they couldn’t wait for her next shoot with Ralph.Another boutique, Annabelle’s, bravely ventured beyond Scotch plaid and flamingo prints, but it, too, had gotten a publicity boost when word got out that Margot shopped there. With a life full-to-bursting with her new marriage, running the farm, and flying to New York for shoots brokered by her agent, Damien Barnes, she was less aware of the surreal celebrity status she’d attained. But as the mother of two school-aged children, and thus more involved in town life, Jordan was often made aware of Margot’s star power—and how a number of women resented her for it.With Jordan it was a different story. They were either kind—too kind, regarding her with that odious light of pity in their eyes—or they kept her at a distance as if her divorce, like the nasty little cold Kate had brought home, was infectious. Both attitudes galled, and there were times Jordan dreamed of doing something that would shatter their notions with the force of a megaton bomb.She never did, though, for despite her impatience with some of Warburg’s inhabitants, she had a deep-rooted affection for the town. Moving back had made her aware of how much she prized the sense of connection that came with living in a place where she knew almost everybody by name. And not everyone was petty or idiotic. She had friends here, other parents and many of Warburg’s merchants, like Sara and Adam Steadman, or Edie Morse, who owned Annabelle’s. But it had taken the divorce for her to realize that many of the couples in Georgetown with whom she and Richard had shared dinners and gone to parties had been Richard’s friends rather than hers. With the split had come the shift in allegiance, everyone moving into the “his” column.She turned into the Safeway. The parking lot was crowded, as many of the townspeople preferred to park here, in the large lot, while they did other business, rather than waste time circling for a spot in the street. In this respect Jordan was no different. Parking by the low split-rail fence that wrapped around the lot’s perimeter, she checked her errand list and glanced at her watch, calculating. Yes, she could get the shopping done, go to the post office, pop into Braverman’s to pick up the sandwich order, and still make it to the preschool on time. If the sandwiches were ready and waiting, she might even be able to dash into the Corner Bookstore and buy a new Maisie book for Olivia. The adventures of the little girl mouse never failed to bring a smile to her daughter’s face.Half an hour later, Jordan wheeled a shopping cart filled with groceries across the parking lot and stowed the bags in the back of the minivan. Feeling like a contestant in the game show Beat the Clock, she dashed around to the front passenger seat, gathered up the bills and letters to be mailed, and hurried down the street.At the post office her errands race was hampered by a customer sending packages to Japan. By the time she reached Braverman’s Bagels, a line had already formed leading to where George Rollins manned the cash register.“Hi, George,” she said when she reached him. “It’s busy today.”“Hey, Jordan. Insane is more like it. Spring fever has struck. Everyone wants picnic sandwiches.”“Is the order Margot called in ready yet?”“Let me go ask Roger.” He stepped away from the register and went over to the back counter where five of the staff stood elbow to elbow building sandwiches, while those at the front counter sliced bagels and ladled homemade soup into cartons. George patted the deli owner’s shoulder and then pointed to her. She raised a hand in greeting.“The order’ll be ready in five, Jordan,” Roger called.“Thanks.”George came back to the cash register. “Want something to drink while you wait for your order?”“Actually, yes, can I have a large peach iced tea?” The tea here was delicious. Lightly sweetened, it came garnished with slices of peaches and sprigs of mint.Sipping her iced tea, she made her way to the back of the deli to wait for her order to be completed. She entertained herself by reading the deli’s menu that was on an enormous blackboard suspended over the front counter. The board was filled with colored-chalk descriptions of equally colorful, and delicious, sandwich combinations and daily soup offerings.“Jordan! Hi!”Jordan turned. “Oh, Marla, how great to see you!” she said as she exchanged a quick hug with Marla Hamilton.“How have you been? I haven’t seen you around town.”“The kids came down with a bug. Max and Kate only just went back to school today. Olivia’s still under the weather, but with half of Max’s class still out, I feel pretty lucky. And how are you? I’ve been meaning to call you.”“Absolutely famished. I’ve been with Nonie Harrison all morning. She was showing me her guest cottage and telling me what she and Owen Gage have decided to do with the interior.”
“Really?” A cold weight settled in her stomach. So Owen had his design team at work on the cottage. So much for the huge delay. She wondered what else Owen Gage had misled her about. Though it was like picking at a scab, somehow she couldn’t prevent herself from asking. “So what did he recommend to Nonie?”
“Well, lots of really good, practical ideas for the rooms, like putting in bookshelves in the living room so that her guests can curl up with a novel by the fire, and installing glass-faced wood cabinets in the kitchen to make it easier to find the dishes, especially useful for guests who don’t know the space. And they’re going to install this green marble for the countertops that’s called Verde Italia that Nonie could use with majolica pieces to add splashes of color and pattern. The colors they chose are just wonderful, Jordan. The master bathroom’s going to be done in ocean hues with a glass and stone mosaic for the walk-in shower, called Pacific Blue. The rest of the bathroom will have marble and ceramic tiles in a deeper hue. And the decorator had this idea for installing a double-ended claw-foot bathtub that is so romantic! I would love to have one to soak in alone. Or,” she paused, her eyes twinkling merrily, “now that Bruce and I are going to have the house to ourselves, I might invite him into the tub, too. We haven’t done that sort of thing in years.
“And if the tub hadn’t sold me, the decorator picked out the sweetest wallpaper by Jane Churchill for one of the smaller bedrooms. It has these Indian elephants. It was so whimsical yet tasteful. I simply adored it. I’ve made Nonie promise to put a word in for me so I can get bumped ahead on their waiting list. You must get her to invite you over the second the cottage is finished. I know you’re going to love how it looks.”
That wouldn’t be hard, Jordan thought, furious. From what Marla told her, Owen Gage had ripped off her every idea, right down to her suggestion of using majolica pieces to enliven the kitchen space. She’d known Nonie would go for that, because she loved to collect Victorian majolica. And now, piggybacking on her insights and creativity, he was going to get Marla’s business. Damn him.
Did the man have any principles? Dumb question. What really angered her was that there was no way to set Marla straight. It wasn’t only Owen who was being underhanded. Nonie was lying through her teeth by giving him credit for her ideas. Soon half the town would be discussing Owen Gage’s brilliant ideas.
“Marla, I haven’t told you but I’m opening my own des—”
Her overture was cut off by a shout of “Order’s all ready, Jordan.”
She turned. George was holding a large shopping bag aloft.
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