But one thing she [Rachel] did believe in was love. She believed that you could smell it, that you could taste it, that it could change the entire course of your life.
It was like the way you wanted sunshine on Saturdays, or pancakes for breakfast. They just made you feel good.
There was a mood of magic and frenzy to the room. Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails. And then there was the smell-the smell of hope, the kind of smell that brought people home.
When someone needs help, you help. Right?
Her friendship . . . still existed, as if it was a living, breathing thing, something that came to life the moment it happened and didn't just go away because they no longer acknowledged it.
Because he knew the best way to get what he wanted was to break down what made us strongest. And our friendships were what made us strong.
The trick is not to make eye contact. They don't charge if you don't make eye contact.
Whenever I would get too nosy as a child, my grandmother would say, "When you learn someone else's secret, your own secrets aren't safe. Dig up one, release them all.
When you have to do something, you have to do it. Putting it off only makes it worse. Believe me, I know.
That, they knew, was true friendship. And they knew, if you're lucky enough to find it, you hold on to it.
I've never seen you hide from anyone before. He must do something crazy to you.
People adapt. People change. You can grow where you're planted.
Everything had felt so precarious since her mother's death, like she was walking on a bridge made of paper.
Wasn't that the point to being married? That you had a partner, someone you trusted, to help with important decisions.
Always make your needs and expectations known,she used to say. That way no one gets hurt.
Stability was overrated. Crises and adventures, on the other hand, could actually teach you something.
People always say life is too short for regrets. But the truth is, it's too long.
Nothing is really broke, so it's not like I can fix it. I just have to keep trying to find what I'm looking for.
If they just carried on like always, everything would be ok.
Those silly girls had no idea what they were really celebrating. They had no idea what it took to bring Agatha and her friends together seventy-five years ago. The Women's Society Club had been about supporting one another, about banding together to protect one another because no one else would. But it had turned into an ugly beast, a means by which rich ladies would congratulate themselves by giving money to the poor. And Agatha had let it happen. All her life, it seemed, she was making up for things she let happen.
He didn't think he belonged here, so she was making him face some uncomfortable facts. People adapt. People change. You can grow where you're planted.
It felt as though they were the only people in the world, two young women about to bury the symbol of their helplessness, as if that's all it would take to make them whole again.
That's the fairy tale. You meet, you fall in love, you kiss, and neither of you is revolted by it. You get married and have kids and live happily ever after.
If anyone had been paying attention to the signs, they would have realized that air turns white when things are about to change, that paper cuts mean there's more to what's written on the page than meets the eye, and that birds are always out to protect you from things you don't see.
Her life was monotonous, but it kept her out of trouble. . . . This, her father would say, was called being an adult.
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