By Invitation Only | Page 1 of 190

Author: Dorothea Benton Frank | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 12743 Views | Add a Review

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Dedication

In memory of my sweet brother,

Theodore Anthony Benton

Epigraph

Remember, anyone can love you when the sun is shining.

In the storms

Is where you learn who truly cares for you.

Unknown

Contents

Cover

Endpaper

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter 1: Meet Diane English Stiftel

Chapter 2: Meet Susan Kennedy Cambria

Chapter 3: Diane’s Southern Soiree

Chapter 4: Really? Pig Pickin’?

Chapter 5: Irma Is Served

Chapter 6: Moonshine and Make-Believe

Chapter 7: Shelby Has a Word or Two

Chapter 8: Party’s Over

Chapter 9: Cocktails in Chicago

Chapter 10: All About Beige

Chapter 11: Lowcountry Thanksgiving

Chapter 12: Chicago Thanksgiving—Shelby

Chapter 13: Burying Pop

Chapter 14: Susan’s Chicago Christmas

Chapter 15: Lowcountry Christmas

Chapter 16: Chicago Fire

Chapter 17: Onions Make You Cry

Chapter 18: Shelby Takes a Lowcountry Position

Chapter 19: The Best Gift Ever

Chapter 20: Diane—On the Way

Chapter 21: Party On!

Chapter 22: The Wedding—Susan

Chapter 23: Jailbird Blues—Susan

Chapter 24: You Never Know—Diane

Chapter 25: No Forgiveness

Chapter 26: Diane Is Awesome

Chapter 27: Susan’s Reflection

Chapter 28: Diane on the Farm

Chapter 29: OMG!

Chapter 30: Road Trip

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Dorothea Benton Frank

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Meet Diane English Stiftel

“I can give a party if I feel like it. Who says it’s not the correct etiquette? What if I don’t want to go to Chicago? He’s my only grandson.”

—Virnell Bruce English

august 2016

mount pleasant, south carolina

My mother stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the ancient cast-iron pot as though it was encrusted with the residue of mortal sins, sins somehow fused into the metal. In fact, it was coated with scorched beef stew, tonight’s dinner gone forgotten. She looked out the window and sighed so hard, I would’ve sworn it was her frustration with herself and not the late-afternoon breeze that moved the Spanish moss in the trees all across the yard. Eighty was creeping up on her, snatching bits of her memory and stamina, and it infuriated her. No woman really wanted to be eighty and still working full-time unless she was ninety and still working full-time. As for me, well, I was too old for leggings.

Let’s leave it at that.

The window over the kitchen sink was propped up by a wooden spoon, held in a slightly lopsided position. As the heat of the day had broken, every window in the old house was raised, held open with a book or a Coke bottle or another household object. When the cool air of the afternoon wafted in, the house itself sighed in reli

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Comments

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Alice
Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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