Becoming Mrs. Blackwood
Somehow, she didn’t fit the image of the stuck-up wealthy socialite I’d expected to find in a neighborhood like this.
As we walked beneath the shade of towering oak trees, Vivienne pointed out the various homes and told me about the people who lived behind their impressive facades. She seemed to know something about everyone. She knew which families had been there the longest, which houses had been passed down through generations. She knew the neighbors who were famous for their Christmas decorations, their garden parties, or their inability to mind their own business.
The more she talked, the more interesting the place became. The stories brought the neighborhood to life in a way it hadn’t
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