The Social Climber of Davenport Heights by Pamela Morsi
By Pamela Morsi
Ah, the lifetime of the upper-crust: decadent, flaky and never so sturdy for the heart.
Jane Lofton has every little thing she ever dreamed of: a high-powered profession, a wonderful domestic, a filthy rich husband, David, and a gorgeous daughter, Brynn. after all, David also has a brand new female friend spending his previous cash. Brynn also has a therapist supporting her articulate her contempt for her mom. And Jane also has…
…an legal responsibility to the guy Upstairs. an opportunity assembly among her BMW and an eighteen-wheeler activates Jane to make a deal: enable her stay and she'll commit herself to Doing reliable. no matter what that suggests. Jane's platinum-card kung fu has taught her tips on how to spend, yet no longer how you can give—turns out it really is really lovely difficult! but if her country-club lifestyles crumbles, Jane is confronted with a much bigger problem: exchanging all her desires and salvaging her soul.
Wise, witty and relentlessly genuine, The Social Climber of Davenport Heights (Originally released as Doing Good) is a narrative approximately gaining knowledge of the adaptation among what whatever costs…and what it truly is worthy.
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Wake up! " I screamed. If I sped up and went off on the shoulder I might be able to get around it. But if the tanker did hit me, my going faster wouldn't help. I didn't have time to think it through. I stomped the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard and fled toward the very edge of the pavement. It was going to be close. It was going to be too close. I saw the clear freedom of three empty lanes ahead for just an instant. Then the back of the tanker jackknifed in front of me. I turned sharply and heard the scream of metal as the passenger side of the Beemer skidded along the guardrail.
The smell was so strong it burned. "Please don't let me die," I pleaded, hoping someone, somewhere would hear. " I felt the tears coursing down my cheeks. I thought of Brynn, my sweet, my precious baby Brynn. I saw her in memory as a little toddler, giggling as she chased the bubbles I blew for her on the patio. I saw her all dressed up for her debutante ball, looking so serene and mature. And I saw her looking at me, silently accusing from behind her reading glasses. How would she get over this?
I watched them roll the bed toward the elevator. I was overwhelmed with a queasy sense of unreality. Deliberately I turned my back on the sight. " My husband was grinning at me as if everything was fine. "Sure," he said. , with whom David, apparently, had a golfing acquaintance. "I think we can let her go. " They both had a good laugh. I smiled along with them, but I was faking it. I just wanted to get home. To get back to the way things were before. To forget everything that happened that night.