Happy Place by Emily Henry EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Authors: Emily Henry
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
HAPPY PLACE
KNOTT’S HARBOR, MAINE
A COTTAGE ON the rocky shoreline, with knotty pine floorboards and
windows that are nearly always open. The smell of evergreens and brine
wafting in on the breeze, and white linen drapes lifting in a lazy dance. The
burble of a coffee maker, and that first deep pull of cold ocean air as we
step out onto the flagstone patio, steaming mugs in hand.
My friends: willowy, honey-haired Sabrina and wisp of a waif Cleo, with
her tiny silver septum piercing and dip-dyed box braids. My two favorite
people on the planet since our freshman year at Mattingly College.
It still boggles my mind that we didn’t know one another before that, that
a stodgy housing committee in Vermont matched the three of us up. The
most important friendships in my life all came down to a decision made by
strangers, chance. We used to joke that our living arrangement must be
some government-funded experiment. On paper, we made no sense.
Sabrina was a born-and-raised Manhattan heiress whose wardrobe was
pure Audrey Hepburn and whose bookshelves were stuffed with Stephen
King. Cleo was the painter daughter of a semi-famous music producer and
an outright famous essayist. She’d grown up in New Orleans and showed
up at Mattingly in paint-splattered overalls and vintage Doc Martens.
And me, a girl from southern Indiana, the daughter of a teacher and a
dentist’s receptionist, at Mattingly because the tiny, prestigious liberal arts
school gave me the best financial aid, and that was important for a premed
student who planned to spend the next decade in school.
By the end of our first night living together, Sabrina had us lined up on
her bed watching Clueless on her laptop and eating a well-balanced mix of
popcorn and gummy worms. By the end of the next week, she’d had custom
shirts made for us, inspired by our very first inside joke.
Sabrina’s read Virgin Who Can’t Drive.
Mine read Virgin Who CAN Drive.
And Cleo’s read Not a Virgin but Great Driver. We wore them all the
time, just never outside the dorm. I loved our musty room in the rambling
white-clapboard building.
I loved wandering the fields and forest around
campus with the two of them, loved that first day of fall when we could do
our homework with our windows open, drinking spicy chai or decaf laced
with maple syrup and smelling the leaves curling up and dropping from
branches. I loved the nude painting of Sabrina and me that Cleo made for
her final figure drawing class project, which she’d hung over our door so it
was the last thing we saw on our way out to class, and the Polaroids we
taped on either side of it, the three of us at parties and picnics and coffee
shops in town.
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