𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝙾𝚝𝚒𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 | ONC 2024

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘

The Gilded Grove Ladies' Book Club was the most elite club for women in Manhattan. Everyone from the Brooklyn Bridge to the Upper East Side knew that. Membership was extremely coveted and near impossible to attain, as it required a nomination from one of the current members, the retirement of another member, and a unanimous vote by all remaining members in favor of the nominee.

Near impossible, yes. A pipe dream for the average middle-class Holly Housewife. For on top of the hurdles one had to overcome to achieve membership, all the ladies in the club were wealthy beyond imagination, beautiful, educated (usually Ivy League), and incredibly chic. The club had no room for mere mortals. Or the great taboo that was the single woman.

However, for one blissful hour of this particularly lovely June day, plain little Karen Dwindle had belonged. She'd had luncheon (at Delmonico's Bistro, no less!) with the mesmerizing poised beauties that made up the club. If her mother could see her now!

“It was really a treat having you with us, Karen,” Gloria said as the group headed out the wide double doors of the restaurant and into the afternoon sunshine. “You brought up such interesting ideas about the book! Underlying themes of inadequacy, and jealousy, and whatnot! How creative! We usually just critique the foolish life choices of the heroine and gab over which of the male characters we'd have affairs with behind our husbands' backs!”

“Fabrice Sauveterre, without a doubt!” Penelope declared. “A French Duke who's an expert in love-making? Ha! I'd leave my portly husband in a New York minute!”

All the ladies expelled dainty yet knowing chuckles of concurrence.

“Thank you so much for having me,” Karen said, addressing the group. “I had a lovely time.”

“As did we,” Patricia said. Her expression suggested she was quite surprised by that fact, as her perfectly groomed eyebrows tried to meet her auburn hairline. “You're very well read, Karen.”

“Oh, thank you,” Karen said, her cheeks flushing pink. “I love the novel. Most novels, to be honest. Crime thrillers most of all. But never mind! I'm parked down that way.” She pointed to the very end of the long street. “How about you ladies?”

“Valet,” they all replied in unison.

“Ah, of course!” Karen said. Naturally the members of the Book Club had valet parking. Their cars were the latest, most sleek and flashy Rolls Royce models, after all. Valet parking was practically essential. “Oh! Where is Marcella? I wanted to thank her again.”

“Still inside, making a telephone call,” Darla supplied.

“To Camilla Otis, most likely!” Gloria tittered in glee behind her hand. “I do not envy the earful Camilla's getting right now! It must be horrible!”

All the other ladies voiced their delighted agreement.

Karen wasn't sure why they all seemed so certain it was Mrs. Otis that Marcella was calling (or why they looked positively elated at the idea of their vice president receiving a thorough tongue lashing), but as she had no desire to sour the afternoon, she smiled in kind and said, “I'm sure. Well, adieu, good ladies! Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Her poorly recited quote of farewell earned her looks of derivative amusement, but she didn't care. Nothing could spoil her mood today. It was all too perfect.

As she began the long trek to her dull, dependable vehicle, Karen hugged her worn copy of The Pursuit of Love to her chest. She'd gotten all seven of the ladies to sign the inside cover. This was now the most valuable thing she owned.

Smiling to herself, she opened the book and gazed at the list of prestigious names written in a myriad of looping penmanship:

Gloria Davenport
Penelope Fitzgerald
Patricia Kent
Darla Vanderbilt
Gigi Contini
Charlotte Ermantrude
Marcella Montgomery