By Debra Dean
A stunned Southern matriarch is faced by means of her kin at an intervention. . . . A life-altering break-in triggers insomniac introspection in a determined actor. . . . Streetwise manhattan urban associates allow down their defend for a na?ve puppeteer and needs to undergo the results. . . . during this beautiful number of brief stories—five of that are being released for the first actual time—bestselling, award-winning writer Debra Dean monitors the intensity and value of her outstanding literary expertise. Replete with the seamless storytelling and appealing lyrical voice that made her debut novel, The Madonnas of Leningrad, a countrywide bestseller, Dean's Confessions of a Falling lady is a haunting, pleasurable, and unforgettable interpreting adventure.
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Additional resources for Confessions of a Falling Woman: And Other Stories (P.S.)
But he 43 debra dean was fairly certain his father would approve of the life he had made. Partner in a blue-chip firm, two kids tucked away in private colleges, a three-car garage stocked with Germanmade autos—Lyle could tick off a long list of possessions and accomplishments. Membership at Overlake Golf and Country. A Patek Philippe chronograph with the gold strap. The body fat ratio of a twenty-nine-year-old. Lyle stared out the window of his office, watching a gull wheel and scream through the dishwater sky.
Membership at Overlake Golf and Country. A Patek Philippe chronograph with the gold strap. The body fat ratio of a twenty-nine-year-old. Lyle stared out the window of his office, watching a gull wheel and scream through the dishwater sky. He tried to recall if he had once felt pleasure in any of it. He was escaping to the elevator one evening. The buzz of approaching helicopters was at his back and when he turned, Chad Rathburn’s face swam into view, magnified as though through aquarium glass. “Just the man I’m looking for,” Lyle heard, before Chad’s words dissolved again into a thwapping drone.
Her powdered face was streaked with tears. When I turned around, her eyes met mine for the first time that day, really for the first time I can remember. “You may tell everyone I have decided I need a rest. Your father and I were planning a week in Biloxi, but tell him I’ve changed my mind. ” There wasn’t a quieter place on the planet than the inside of that car. Peace is harder to come by. “Mama,” I said. ” Just like that, like exhaling after too long a time underwater. And then it was quiet again.
Confessions of a Falling Woman: And Other Stories (P.S.) by Debra Dean