Excerpt Thursday! That's a thing, right? Here's a little passage about how Edith Vale met her first husband Frank -- if they hadn't met, there would be no Andrew, and no Susan and no Henry so think about that, Fates. By the way if you're a following fellow Inkshares author and you haven't pre-ordered, please consider supporting. If you have, order again by all means. Also coming up is another raffle, and this is going to be a good one if you're into cooking. So stay tuned for that. Now onto the excerpt. But first here's a little of the music that was playing, just to get you in the right mood. Listen to it as you read!
"When Edie Met Frank"
The wedding was a little bit of magic. She could still picture the huge terrace overflowing with pots of vivid red geraniums behind a vast house in Westchester County, with a lawn of emerald green that swept majestically down toward the Hudson, the river all shimmery under the light of a full moon. She’d never forget the moment she laid eyes on Frank. The meal had been served – pineapple cups followed by Chicken a la King - and Lester Lanin and his band were playing “The Hukilau Song”, an uptempo, lilting tune that brought Edie back to Hawaiian vacations with her mother, father and Evangeline, when Frank caught her eye from two tables away. He looked so dashing, chestnut hair slicked down with brilliantine, in a dinner jacket, crisp white broadcloth shirt and bow tie, and when he held out his hand and escorted her to the dance floor she felt funny little stirrings and flip-flops deep down inside. They kept dancing, as the band took them on a veritable world tour, with stops in France (“I Love Paris”) and Latin America for a mambo or two. “What is it about you?” said Frank as he expertly negotiated the sea of taffeta and silk swirling around them. “There’s something different. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“I don’t know,” said Edie. “These are mostly east coast girls. I’m from California.”
“That’s it! Me too! I knew I recognized something!”
His eyes twinkled and his whole face seemed to open up in a dimpled grin.
It might have been the champagne; it might have been nerves, or exhaustion even as the day had been packed with activities; it might have been his hand and the pressure he applied just at the small of her back as they danced; or maybe it was Frank’s heady scent, a curious, spicy blend of cigarette smoke, bourbon and some musky aftershave, but by the time the orchestra dove into “Old Devil Moon” Edie was as hooked on him as he seemed to be on her.
