The Halpert’s talent continues to shine as we slide from morning to afternoon.
After all, it’s the internet, it’s 5 O’clock somewhere.
I love this.
by Stephen Halpert
Judith Springer loved the warmth of brandy and how after a few ladylike sips she’d begin loosening up. She remembered back when she was little how her mother used to drink several brandy Alexander’s before dinner at what she and her husband Brice would call the cocktail hour. When after her second drink Barbara Springer glowed, she’d promise her daughter practically anything, including the moon. But that was long ago and today, things were different
Judith’s father Brice Springer a Princeton grad and broker on Wall Street collected rare stamps and obscure bottles of single malt Scotch. He always said working out was for sissies, and with pride he’d pat his mature belly skillfully obscured by his well-tailored vest and suit coat. He preferred dry flavorless crackers imported from England. Like his crackers, to Judith her father exuded a dry bland elegance, usually saying little with extreme emphasis.
Of a chilly early summer evening Judith and her betrothed, Benjamin Copperfield from the Philadelphia Copperfields, sat with her parents in the living room of their Grafton estate on the shore of Lake Ripple. Wishing they’d turn up the heat, she huddled into her cashmere sweater. She glanced over at the two prized Monet paintings: a frog reflecting on a lily pad and a severe rainstorm, her parents had bought years ago in Paris when they were frivolous and threw their money after art.
“Well,” Brice swirled his drink and gave Benjamin his best boarding school smile, “plans for the future?”
Keep reading to enjoy all of Stephen’s tale.