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Cupid and Diana A Novel [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books (Fiction)
  • Author:  Bartolomeo, Christina
  • Author:  Bartolomeo, Christina
  • ISBN-10:  0684856220
  • ISBN-10:  0684856220
  • ISBN-13:  9780684856223
  • ISBN-13:  9780684856223
  • Publisher:  Scribner
  • Publisher:  Scribner
  • Pages:  240
  • Pages:  240
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-Jun-1999
  • Pub Date:  01-Jun-1999
  • SKU:  0684856220-11-MPOD
  • SKU:  0684856220-11-MPOD
  • Item ID: 100179567
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Jul 09 to Jul 11
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.
Diana Campanella is the owner of a vintage clothing store in Washington, D.C., teetering on the brink of disaster. She and her blue-blood lawyer fiancé still have not set a date for their wedding. And it's becoming more difficult than ever for Diana to keep the peace in her big, unruly Catholic family.
But just when all hope seems lost, Diana meets a rumpled New Yorker named Harry, who casts a new light on her life and its possibilities. Now all she has to do is decide whether Harry's warmth and great sense of humor is a better bet than the familiar security her fiancé has to offer.Christina Bartolomeois an associate director of the Organizing Department for the American Federation of Teachers. Her short stories have appeared inCosmopolitan.She lives in Washington, D.C.Chapter 1
A phone call from my sister Francesca is always like a summons -- even the ring has an imperious quality.
You have to be there, she said. I knew exactly how her mouth would look as she said this, like a nun's mouth, all pruney and prissy. The mouth of a woman who still keeps a stack of gilt-edged holy cards, earned by grade school good behavior, in the back of her bureau drawer.
I can make up an excuse.
His last birthday you said you had chicken pox. You had chicken pox twice as a kid.
Like he's going to remember.
He's seventy-one. How many more years do you think we're going to have him?
How many, I wondered. How damn many. People like my father were capable of living to ninety-six out of sheer spite.
It was a Monday morning in late July, and I was standing in my shop, going through a new consignment. While Francesca went on about the details, I inspected a 1941 French blue twill jacket with sixteen covered buttons down the front. I wanted it for myself, but suspected it would look better on my sister Cynthia. Cynthia was as different from Francesca as I was from both of them, and the thought of what she would say about FralĂr
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