“The women he met were like castle walls with no windows. He couldn’t gain a foothold with any of them.” What was Jude’s problem?
Excerpt from Running from Love:
It was time to circulate.
At the next pause in Ginny’s anecdote, Jude excused himself, got up from the table and strolled outside. The deck of the Indian Harbor Yacht Club was chilly in the late September evening. An easterly breeze drifted in from Long Island Sound, causing the ladies to clutch their wraps and the men to drink more.
He peered across the water. Another seven miles beyond Great Captain’s Island lay his hometown of Oyster Bay, New York. It was too far away to see, but it was there: a mirror reflection of Greenwich, Long Island–style.
“Looking for something?” a female voice asked.
Turning, he gazed into the most wide-set pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen. They were practically planted on either side of the woman’s head, like a bird’s. The effect was not unattractive.
“Just trying to spot my hometown.”
“Glen Cove?” She knew her geography.
“No. Oyster Bay.”
“Ohh.” The needle on her interest meter went up. “You’re from Oyster Bay?”
“Yes. Once upon a time.” Whatever being from Oyster Bay was supposed to signify, it usually meant something completely different to the questioner than it did to him, the same way it did when he mentioned he was from Greenwich.
He hadn’t really moved that far from his hometown. He’d crossed Long Island Sound, but remained in his previous socioeconomic bracket—the one no one believed he really came from—the son of a caretaker and a cook.
Now, he was a ghostwriter of how-to-get-rich books. He hoped he’d learn something practical soon, so he could afford to write the books he really wanted to. They’d be about people who were in between two groups, belonging to neither. He knew a lot more about that topic than he did about how to make money.
End excerpt from Running from Love by Rozsa Gaston
What wine would you sip while contemplating this quote?
Women like castle walls with no windows? I would sip something haute: as in haute bourgeois, haute cuisine, and women who carry themselves with a certain hauteur.
Out of Jude’s league
Jude Farnesworth in Running from Love surrounds himself with women he can’t possibly see himself in a relationship with. Why does he do this? Self-sabotage perhaps? An easy out from the rigors of actual engagement?
When Farrah Foley from the Bronx comes along, she’s the real thing. But Jude has spent so much time practicing not being the real thing back in Greenwich, CT, that he doesn’t know how to let her know that he’s interested.
While contemplating castle walls with no windows, I would sip a crisp, dry white wine from France, the land of boundless hauteur with no apology.
A 2012 Domaine Saint-Lannes is not only exceptional in its crispness combined with hints of floral perfume in its bouquet but also in price. Unbelievably, about $9.99 per bottle.
It’s composition? 80% French Colombard, 20% Gros Manseng.
Sip this or something similar while you read Running from Love and contemplate Jude Farnsworth’s dilemma: how to get real when the real thing comes along.
Farrah has an equally challenging dilemma to overcome before she can consider Jude. His name is Whit. But that’s for our next blog post.
Don’t forget, darlings—if you don’t have time to read these days, download Running from Love audiobook and listen to Jude’s and Farrah’s story on your commute or while you work out.
Can’t wait to tune in again next week and tell you all about Farrah’s deliciously delicate difficulties. Must run now.
Playfully yours,
Rozsa Gaston
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