This One Is Mine by Maria Semple

Author:Maria Semple [Semple, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 031603133X
Google: om0QPwAACAAJ
Amazon: 031603133X
Publisher: Back Bay Books
Published: 2010-03-24T04:00:00+00:00

“HELLO!” Sally called. “David? Dotty Dot? Anyone here?” She breezed down the hall, Jeremy right behind.

Finally, it was Sally’s chance to prove there was nothing wrong with her. Not that her brother or sister-in-law had ever come out and said as much, but it was what that shrink one time called “the elephant in the room.” The elephant in Sally’s room was that something must be wrong with her if she was so pretty and thin and still single. It was also why Sally had stopped telling people she was David’s sister. At first, they’d be impressed. But then, the elephant in the room: that there must be something wrong with Sally if David Parry was her big brother and she was still driving around with a trunk full of tutus. This engagement ring would slay both those elephants, and even a third: that Violet was somehow better than Sally. Now Sally would also be the wife of a rich guy. Plus, hers was on TV.

Sally stopped. Violet was in a dogfight with her wailing baby over a bag of chips. Dot’s face and hands were covered in red dye, and that awful nanny just lurked and smiled.

“Hi, sis,” Sally said.

“Sally. How did you get in?”

“I know the code to the gate.” Sally prayed she was wearing enough foundation to hide that her face was most likely as red as Dot’s. “From when I house-sat for you. I just wanted to stop by so you could meet my fiancé.”

“David’s not with you?” Violet asked.

“No.” Sally hooked her arm in Jeremy’s. “Violet, this is my fiancé, Jeremy White.”

“Oh.” Violet stuck out her hand. “Nice to —” She looked down. Her hand was covered in red dye. She wiped it on her pants. “Shit,” she said.

There was a long pause. “Where are you going?” Sally asked.

“What?”

“Your car is packed.”

“Ritz-Carlton, meesuz,” chimed the nanny. “They give you steak and shrimp all day. I bring my wallet, but lady go, If you have special key, you no pay. No charge extra, nothing.”

Violet told the nanny, “Put Dot in her car seat, please,” then turned to Sally. “I’m sorry,” Violet said, “but this isn’t a good time to chat.”

This wasn’t a flipping chat! Sally had just announced she was getting married. Wasn’t the big whoop about Violet that she was so classy with her fancy-pants upbringing? Sure, Violet was rich. The kitchen alone screamed money. The French sea salt in the silver dish. The Montblanc pens, some without their caps, stuffed into a Rolling Stones mug. The Cartier watch tossed into a bowl of miniature red bananas. The slim basket of boysenberries they wanted ten bucks for at Whole Foods. The shoes with the red soles that Nora Ross sometimes wore, so they had to cost a fortune, just kicked into the corner. But class?

Violet was a wreck! Her home was a pigsty. There was a two-hundred-dollar orchid — that their “orchid guy” came once a week to “switch out” — crashed in the sink. Her brat was screaming.

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