Holly Rowe Quotes

Nevermore," Lolli said. "That's what Luis calls it, because there are three rules: Never more than once a day, never more than a pinch at a time, and never more than two days in a row.

The row of dolls watched her impassively from the bookshelf, their tea party propriety almost certainly offended.

Someone at Portland Row really missed you, you know... Me. - Holly

The tan carpet was stiff and black with stripes of dried blood, spattered like a Jackson Pollock canvas. The walls were streaked with it, handprints smearing the dingy beige surfaces. And the bodies. Dozens of bodies. People she’d seen every day since kindergarten, people whom she’d played tag with and cried over and kissed, were lying at odd angles, their bodies pale and cold, their eyes staring like rows of dolls in a shop window.

She looked out the window, and her heart jumped: the expanse of the pie pantry and orchard shimmered in the early-morning light in front of her, the bay and LaKe Michigan glimmering in the distance. To Sam, it looked as if one of her grandmother's paintings had come to life: red apples bobbed as tree limbs swayed in the breeze; bushes thick with the bluest of blueberries shimmied; peaches, fuzzy and bright, nestled snugly against branches; shiny cars and people dressed in bright T-shirts and caps danced into the pie pantry and into the orchards; near the distance, the cornfields seemed to move as if they were doing the wave at a football game, while cherry trees dotted with the deep red fruit resembled holly bushes out of season. And yet there was an incredible uniformity to the scene despite the visual overload: everything was lined up in neat rows, as if each tree, bush, and person understood its purpose at this very moment. I've forgotten this view, Sam thought, recalling the one from her own bedroom window earlier in the morning. There is an order to life's chaos, be it the city or country, if we just stop for a moment and see it.

But the crown jewel was the columned Greek Revival mansion, which dated from the mid-1800s, along with the manicured boxwood gardens that would serve as the backdrop for the couple's ceremony. Of course, everything was not only very traditional but also a standard to what one might imagine an over-the-top Southern wedding to be. As I said, "Steel Magnolias on steroids." The ceremony would take place outdoors in the garden, but large custom peach-and-white scalloped umbrellas were placed throughout the rows of bamboo folding chairs to shade the guests. Magnolia blossoms and vintage lace adorned the ends of the aisles. White, trellis-covered bars flanked the entrance to the gardens where guests could select from a cucumber cooler or spiked sweet tea to keep cool during the thirty-minute nuptials. It was still considered spring, but like Dallas, Nashville could heat up early in the year, and we were glad to be prepared. By the time we arrived the tent was well on its way to completion, and rental deliveries were rolling in. The reception structure was located past the gardens near the enormous whitewashed former stable, and inside the ceiling was draped in countless yards of peach fabric with crystal chandeliers hanging above every dining table. Custom napkins with embroidered magnolias on them complemented the centerpieces' peach garden roses, lush greenery, and dried cotton stems. Cedric's carpentry department created floor-to-ceiling lattice walls covered in faux greenery and white wisteria blooms, a dreamy backdrop for the band.

People don't need to die for us to experience loss. Holly was losing her local family to a move. It felt to her as if there would be a death. In the 1800s, the Irish had emigration wakes for their families when they moved to America, never to return. They spoke elegies for the living. Holly felt elegiac now. Everything seemed so over.

A row of young boys sat along an old metal pipe, excitedly singing Arabic songs. The girls whizzed each other around in wheelbarrows and played with their dolls on patches of earth that had hardened from mud to crusty dirt. “It is still like a playpen to them, like a big party,” one frail father said absently, as if he was staring right through me. “Soon they will know.” Crevices of stress had been delicately carved into his tanned face. His party was one of torment as he paced in circles, as if slowly going mad. I did not know what had happened to him and his family, but it did not feel right to ask.

You know what I really want? An arm on a pew. It’s pretty simple, actually.” “An arm on a pew?” “Yeah. Every Sunday I sit with Grady and Colleen, and two rows in front of us are Karl and Ellen Penrose. Those two make me so jealous.” “Karl and Ellen Penrose?” He stifled a chuckle imagining Holly being jealous of the octogenarians. “He always puts his arm on the back of the pew behind her. Nothin’ flashy or showy—just a constant reminder that’s he’s there. That’s what I want. An arm on the pew behind me.

The ceremony consisted of vibrant pink, purple, and coral details that complemented the rustic wood and lush green vines climbing up the chapel. Abigail's team constructed an arbor made entirely of drooping orchids and palm fronds that framed the wooden doors perfectly. The aisle was lined with thousands of coral-colored rose petals and more orchids spilling over the end of every row of seats. It was a tropical dream.

Why did you have to say that thing about Teri Garr?' said Peters. 'Here I am introducing you to a beautiful woman—' ¶ 'Oh, for God's sake,' said Hollis. 'She's an undergraduate—she must be eighteen years old.' ¶ 'So? You're only twenty-three,' said Peters. 'Love is ageless. Besides, you're probably the most undergraduate person I know. And I know a lot of undergraduates.' ¶ In the row of darkened storefronts there was one lighted window, a café where people were loading up on coffee and pastries after a night of drinking. ¶ 'How would you feel if somebody said you looked like Scott Bakula, or something? Or Bronson Pinchot? God, no wonder Eileen dumped you.' ¶ 'Teri Garr's pretty well-preserved,' Hollis said calmly. 'Anyway, I broke up with Eileen, not the other way around, if you want to know the truth.' ¶ 'That's what they all say,' said Peters.