Reunion Beach Elin Hilderbrand (best selling autobiographies .TXT) 📖

coached high school football, and now was on his way to his mother-in-law’s for her birthday dinner. Great conversation about high school football and concussions.

About the car.

I forgot to tell the publisher that I abandoned that heap on the side of the road. And then, around three weeks later, evidently the dang car had been sitting there that long, was stolen, yes, stolen by a gang of teenage boys, the Tennessee four I called them, who drove my rental car all the way to Mequon, Wisconsin, which was their second mistake (the first being grand theft auto). Anyhow, the poor boys decided Wisconsin was way too cold once they arrived, geography being a foreign concept to them they failed to realize that north means frigid, so they abandoned the jalopy in the return lot at the airport and took a bus back to wherever they came from, somewhere outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. But leaving the car did not atone for stealing the car in the first place until it did. Well, it all worked out when the rental car company admitted that the origin of the rental car was Hertz in Mequon. I cannot make this stuff up, and the little criminals had actually done them a ding dang favor after all. That’s a sidebar. Even the things we steal belonged to us in the first place.

Love ya, Julia

To: Victoria Benton Frank Peluso

From: Mom

Honey, I see her. The baby. You named her after me? Are you out of your mind? What happened to Anastasia? Aurora? What happened to all those names of all those Disney princesses that you liked a lot and said they worked with Peluso? Italian queen Yolanda, and Italian movie queens, Sophia, Claudia, and Monica. They were stunning names. I do like Thea as a nickname. Don’t ever let them call the baby Dottie. It was a curse to have a nickname that came from the South and meant crazy.

I always liked when Daddy called me Doe, like a deer. I thought it was romantic and autumnal and slightly musical as every song has that introduction, doe/doe/doe. You know what I mean. I loved deer, except that time I hit one on Pawleys Island. I didn’t even know they had deer on Pawleys Island. Trust me, they do. So, please drive slowly with high beams on when you’re over there. The story ended well-ish. The deer lived, fled the scene without a scratch, but the car looked like King Kong had wadded it up like a gum wrapper and threw it down on River Road. That’s when Daddy insisted that I drive an SUV or is it SVU, I can never keep that show with Mariska Hargitay and the style of that vehicle Daddy bought me straight. Well, Victoria, it’s one or the other. Figure it out. And when you do, lemme know.

I see you’re writing. I am so glad. It was my salvation. It’s only right that your own mother gave you the keys to your own version of salvation. Keep at it. You’re so talented, Victoria, much more than me. You’re more beautiful, funny, and stylish than I ever was. That’s as it should be. A mother pours herself into her children and hopes for the best. You’ll see how you feel about Thea when she grows up and becomes a young woman that astonishes and amazes you, in the same way you astonished and amazed me. You were your own person, and you were mine.

I loved your brother equally, but you know boys. Thank goodness you had our Teddy first, because that makes little Thea seem like an angel by comparison. Teddy is your firstborn, but he’s also Italian, which makes him an instant prince with or without title. (Add my one-eighth Italian genes and you have a future king on your hands!)

Every mother should have at least one daughter, and now you do! Don’t share this with your friends who have boys. God bless those mothers of sons—they have to pretend to love sports. I would send your father with your brother. I can’t think of a worse way to spend an afternoon even if the hotdogs are delish and the beer is cold. Mind numbing boredom! Those poor girls will never have the joy of ransacking a mall with their daughters. How sad! Don’t forget those daughter-deprived women. Be sure and bring them along whenever you go ransacking with Thea.

I left you some recipes in the old card box.

Don’t forget your Charleston roots. You’re married to a wonderful Italian chef, and that’s all well and good, but sometimes, the only cuisine that can fill you up proper is from the American South. By the way, if you see JL written in the corner of the recipe card, it means Junior League, which means you can take that recipe to the bank. Those ladies play to win.

Make my cornbread recipe. Serve it hot out of the oven slathered in butter or crumble it into a bowl and pour milk over it. Serve those babies that South Carolina Lowcountry mush and one day Teddy and Thea will thank you. They don’t know it yet, and maybe you don’t either, but trust your mother: that which sustains you, binds you together. And yes, that includes cornbread. And if you’re too busy, and there will be times you are, just get that box of Jiffy cornbread, follow the instructions on the box and stir in a can of creamed corn, and you’ll be home again.

Love you for all time, Momma

In Memoriam

Pat Conroy

October 26, 1945—March 4, 2016

Dorothea Olivia Benton Frank

September 12, 1951—September 2, 2019

Julia Evans Reed

September 11, 1960—August 28, 2020

About Adriana Trigiani

Adriana Trigiani by Tim Stephenson

ADRIANA TRIGIANI is the New York Times bestselling author of eighteen books in fiction and nonfiction, published in thirty-eight languages, making her one of the most sought-after speakers in the world of books today. Adriana is also an award-winning film director