Well, happy 10th anniversary to us!
Had to commemorate such a special occasion with a group photo —
And we all look just as young as our first meeting, don’t you think? (Say yes, please!)
This month we discussed “The Husband’s Secret” by Liane Moriarty —
We all loved it and would recommend it for you to read!
Imagine your husband wrote you a letter, to be opened after his death. Imagine, too, that the letter contains his deepest, darkest secret – something so terrible it would destroy not just the life you built together, but the lives of others too. Imagine, then, that you stumble across that letter while your husband is still very much alive . . .
Cecilia Fitzpatrick achieved it all – she’s an incredibly successful business woman, a pillar of her small community and a devoted wife and mother. Her life is as orderly and spotless as her home. But that letter is about to change everything, and not just for her: Rachel and Tess barely know Cecilia – or each other – but they too are about to feel the earth-shattering repercussions of her husband’s devastating secret.
After a really good discussion – it was time for lunch!
And Betsy outdid herself with marvelous homemade mushroom soup and delish chicken sandwiches!
And pavlova. Oh My Goodness: PAVLOVA!
(If you’ve never had this desert – go make it right now!)
And the beautiful dessert was sitting in such pretty sunlight, I had to keep taking pictures of it!
Sorry I couldn’t stop!
And I’ll close with a picture of what I brought for our annual Christmas Ornament swap — the most amazing Christmas tree made from a folded book — created and hand made by my amazing mom.
Stunning, isn’t it?
Excerpt from “The Husband’s Secret”
It was all because of the Berlin Wall.
If it wasn’t for the Berlin Wall Cecilia would never have found the letter, and then she wouldn’t be sitting here, at the kitchen table, willing herself not to rip it open.
The envelope was grey with a fine layer of dust. The words on the front were written in a scratchy blue ballpoint pen, the handwriting as familiar as her own. She turned it over. It was sealed with a yellowing piece of sticky tape. When was it written? It felt old, like it was written years ago, but there was no way of knowing for sure.
She wasn’t going to open it. It was absolutely clear that she should not open it. She was the most decisive person she knew, and she’d already decided not to open the letter, so there was nothing more to think about.
Although, honestly, if she did open it, what would be the big deal? Any woman would open it like a shot. She listed all her friends and what their responses would be if she were to ring them up right now and ask what they thought.