how lucky you are by kristyn kusek lewis

She hears us coming-Amy’s voice is always two notches louder than it needs to be, and bubbly and eager, like when she was a cheerleader in high school-but instead of turning her head to acknowledge us and say hello, Kate waits, daintily licking a crumb from her finger. Kate’s already here.”Īs we walk back into the kitchen, I glimpse Kate sitting on one of the barstools at the center island, picking a piece of Roquefort off of the cheese plate I put together an hour ago. I hold my arms out for a hug and say hello to her husband as I wrap my arms around her. “Hell-lo-o!” I sing in three syllables, the way that I’m apt to do I turn the brass doorknob and swing open the heavy door. To any passing stranger, it looks just like home. Ivy creeps up the brick fa- cade, nasturtium spills from the window boxes, stained-glass panels glimmer above the wide oak double doors. My house is a brownstone that I never could have afforded on my own, and while it’s not the most extrav- agant home on the street or the best kept, there is something about it that makes people stop at the bottom of its terra-cotta steps, their mouths open in lustful, longing ohhhhs. I put down the handful of silverware I was distributing and go to answer the door.

“That’s probably Amy and Mike,” I call to Kate, who’s sitting in the kitchen. I’m in the dining room, counting place settings, when the door- bell rings.Ī happy, charming, ladylike clang, it’s a sound only an old house could make, which mine is.

How Lucky You Are by Kristyn Kusek Lewis CHAPTER ONE

How lucky you are by kristyn kusek lewis