Read Online Southern Charm by Tinsley Mortimer - Free Book Online Page B

possibility she will not be able to get her way, and may God have mercy on your soul.
    â€œEnough with the excuses, Minty,” she said.
    I humphed and fell backward into my sofa.
    â€œI just praise the Lord your grandmother isn’t around to see this. You pick up and move to New York City, leaving behind your family and friends, your hometown, everything you have ever known—”
    â€œJesus Christ, Mom.”
    â€œâ€”adopt some of the more uncouth habits of the North and casually use the Lord’s name in vain.” She paused dramatically, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand and raising her eyes to the ceiling. “All of that I can handle. All of that is just fine. But this”—she stopped and waved her arms around like Vanna White on steroids—“living in this . . . situation . . . with store-bought window treatments and a Bottega on the corner.”
    â€œBodega.”
    â€œIn the midtown of all places, overrun with frozen yogurt establishments and . . . chain retailers.”
    â€œI wouldn’t exactly call Sixty-first Street and Lexington midtown, Mother. And you had a hand in placing me in this building, which is perfectly safe and in a respectable area.”
    â€œIf I had known it was going to turn out like this, I wouldn’t have let you come up here.” She put her hands on her hips. “We’ve got to do something about this.”
    I was already dreading Monday, which marked my first Fashion Week meeting. Even though New York Fashion Week was in February, months away, we started planning before Thanksgiving in order to stay ahead of the curve. On one hand, it would have been nice to have a quiet, relaxing weekend to myself, but I couldn’t help but agree with her—my apartment was in desperate need of a little TLC and I’d already put it off for too long.
    â€œAll right, Mother,” I said, secretly excited. “Let’s do it.”
    As Scarlett guided me through the countless showrooms of the D & D Building, she was in rare form (even for her). Fueled by the shock of my halfhearted decorating job, not to mention the words “Bed, Bath and Beyond,” it was clear that she was on a mission to create a new life for me—the life she’d imagined I had been living in New York. She moved from Brunschwig & Fils to Manuel Canovas to Scalamandre like we were contestants in some sort of interior design version of The Amazing Race .
    By the time we’d finished, it was almost four P.M . and I was starting to feel like the D & D had swallowed us whole. We had been in the Schumacher showroom for over an hour.
    â€œMommy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the turquoise is just fine and if I don’t eat something I’m going to pass out in that pile of silk taffeta over there.”
    She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to me, fabric in hand. “The turquazzz, ” she began, using the correct French pronunciation, “belongs on a pillow, not a wall, dear,” she said, her tone serious, sober. “I’m thinking more along the lines of the chocolate brown grass cloth. It’s a bit more dramatic, don’t you think?”
    I sighed. “Yes, of course. The chocolate brown.”
    She motioned to the salesperson, who looked more weary than I felt, if that were possible.
    â€œAnd, fine, Minty,” she continued. “We’ll finish up for now and grab a bite to eat at Serendipity.”
    Serendipity is sort of a tradition for my mother and me. Ever since that first trip when I was eight, we made a point of going to Serendipity whenever we were back in New York.
    Housed in the basement level of a tenement building and decorated like a turn-of-the-century parlor with white walls and Tiffany lamps, it’s like something out of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory . The speciality is Frrrozen Hot Chocolate, a large sundae glass filled with rich, chocolatey goodness and topped