By Elin Hilderbrand
Claire Danner Crispin, mom of 4 youngsters and nationally well known glassblower, bites off greater than she will chunk while she consents to co-chair the Nantucket's young children summer season Gala.
Claire is requested to chair the ease, partially, simply because she is the previous highschool sweetheart of rock superstar Max West. Max is of the same opinion to play the gala and it appears like delicate crusing for Claire-until she can provide a "museum-quality" piece of glass for the public sale, bargains her ally the catering task, is going nose-to-nose together with her long island socialite co-chair, and starts a "good-hearted" affair with the charity's govt Director, Lockhart Dixon.
Hearts holiday and feelings are driven to the restrict during this riveting tale of 1 woman's try and take care of loves prior and current, family members, company, and high-powered social pressures. Elin Hilderbrand's distinctive figuring out of the fun and longings that animate women's lives will make this her most modern summer time bestseller.
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Extra resources for A Summer Affair
Before he got married, twice, and went into rehab, three times. “Yes, I know him. We went to high school together. He was my . . ” “That’s what someone told me,” Lock said. ” Claire said. Right. No one ever believed it at first. Claire and Matthew had been best friends since seventh grade, and then, one night years later, when they were old enough to be horny and curious, Matthew had kissed her—on a school bus, at night. They were in the chorus together, returning from a trip to the old-folks’ home.
Her sensibilities were aroused, her intelligence piqued. Lock Dixon was, perhaps, the only person in the world—short of her handful of patrons—who cared if she started blowing glass again. But he couldn’t egg her into it just because he was a man, a wealthy man, a man who had poured her a glass of wine, a man whose wife Claire had unintentionally wronged. He couldn’t make her do it. She did have boundaries! ” she said again. ” Claire said, incredulous now. He bent over to look her in the eye. His face was so close she could have kissed him.
Isabelle French. Did Claire know her? She pictured a woman with her hair up, wearing dangly earrings and some kind of funky Indian-print tunic that reminded Claire of the Beatles in their psychedelic years. That was what Isabelle French had been wearing at the gala. She had been drinking a cosmopolitan, she had been dancing; Claire had seen her come off the dance floor pink-faced and breathless. Claire wondered if she was remembering the right woman. “I . . think so,” Claire said. “She’s very nice.