The tea room is dim and cozy, lit by soft glass lanterns that dot the walls, which are lined in an opulent red and gold wallpaper. The murmur of voices drifts down the marble hallway and out into the hotel lobby, where it meets and gets subsumed by the bright cacophony of comings and goings. Bellhops whirl their gold wheeled luggage carts to and fro, the elevators ding cheerily, the glass doors whoosh open and shut.
Read moreCHOCOLATE HAZELNUT BISCOTTI
The first letter he writes is almost impossible to read. “I don’t even have to worry about how I phrased it,” he jokes, “because you won’t be able to figure out what it says.” She smiles and slips the thin envelope into the pocket of her bag. The envelope is white and flimsy: the sort that comes in 100-packs from Office Depot. He must have picked it up at work, stopping by the supply cabinet somewhere to search for the stack of envelopes—the idea of him in a meeting, thinking about writing to her, makes her inexplicably glad.
Read moreCHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE CAKE
Things that make me feel more like myself:
The smell of wood smoke in early fall
Thinking about books I loved when I was little (the Betsy-Tacy series, the Mennyms, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, The Hobbit)
Arguments (the right kind)
Music I listened to in high school and still do (Indigo Girls, Simon & Garfunkel, The Beach Boys)
HOMEMADE STOREBOUGHT-STYLE ICE CREAM SANDWICHES
On very cold winter days, she sometimes lets herself imagine summer for a few brief moments. She closes her eyes and pretends that it’s the time of year when something shifts imperceptibly overnight from spring warmth to real heat. If she concentrates, she can summon it vividly enough that becomes almost tangible: Her skin practically smells like she’s just rubbed coconut-scented sunscreen onto her cheeks. Like her toes are already dusty with sand as she stands down by the dock.
Read moreS’MORES ICEBOX CAKE
On very foggy mornings, he rolls over and murmurs sleepily to her, “We’re inside a cloud!” before closing his eyes again. Fog rolls in often on the coastline, blanketing the ocean and horizon beyond, leaving the clapboard houses to the left and right of theirs awash in a delicate mist. Humid mornings, especially before or after rain, are a study in grays: dove gray clouds, silvery gray drizzle, curtains of pewter condensation obscuring the hydrangea bushes that have been aching to burst into bloom all spring and are now reveling in their seasonal riot of color.
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