My new town. Here is a glimpse of a typical home in the Winter–
And here in the Spring–
The talk around town is about tennis and golf, not the Yankees. The kids play lacrosse. Families escape, in the summer, to their vacation homes on Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket.
Sarah Smith is in the library in my town with her daughter Lexi when she sees another mom walk in with a little girl who could be Lexi’s twin–same bouncy brown curls, same dolphin-framed glasses making her eyes appear too large for her head, even the same trip-along gait. Sarah strikes up a conversation with the mom, whose name, she learns, is Pam Brown.
No clue there.
“I haven’t seen you around here before. Have you lived here awhile?”
“We just moved from the City,” confesses Pam. “You?”
“We moved a few years ago. Upper West?”
Sarah gives her new acquaintance the once over. Pam has sleek hair that no doubt once looked like her daughter’s but has been straightened into submission–Japanese straightening or Chi? Surely once also dark like her daughter’s, it is a pretty melange of caramels, coppers, and golds. She wears casually nice mom clothes–a loose cotton shirt with a boat neck, designer jeans, and ballet flats–and she has a diamond the size of a marble perched on a thick platinum band on the fourth finger of her left hand.
“Did you move here for work?” Sarah asks.
“My husband’s,” confesses Pam. “He’s a dermatologist.”
Sarah becomes more confident. “It’s really hot in here, huh? I am shvitzing like crazy.”
Pam looks at her blankly.
She tries again: “They say it’s better to drink hot drinks when you’re hot even though you’re desperate for cold ones, but I don’t know–I think it’s a bubbemeise.”
In walks another mom, this one with a little boy clad in Star Wars paraphernalia top to bottom. They hear the mom call the boy “Levi.” The new mom gravitates toward the other moms, looks them both up and down, introduces herself as Leah, and nods toward the door she has just entered by. “It just started shpritzing out there,” Leah declares. “I think it’s gonna pour! I wish I had thought to schlep my umbrella. I guess we’re all stuck here for a while. What treyf do they serve in the caf here?”
Pam looks at her blankly. Sarah smiles.
Another day, Sarah and Leah get their kids together with some of Lexi’s boy-cousins to play a little soccer:
And Sarah, who doesn’t have a bee problem, puts a sign up by the front door: