Читать книгу Edge of the Map. The Mountain Life of Christine Boskoff онлайн

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NOW NINETY-TWO, JOYCE EXUDED THE energy of a best friend more than a grandmother. With a laugh that carried from one room to the other, conversation and stories came easily in her presence. Her build was somehow sturdy yet delicate, perhaps because of her height—no more than five feet. She joked: “I used to be five-two but then I shrank.” Taking herself too seriously would be tragic, draining the pleasure out of simple things left to enjoy, such as her great-grandchildren and the book club at her retirement home in Appleton.

Reminiscing about her daughter, Joyce referenced a childhood friend of Chris’s. “Nadine is the one to talk to! She knew Chrissy well. Oh my, did those girls get into some antics when they were teenagers!” Waving her hand in front of her face, she broke into a huge grin, the stories of her teenage daughter trickling between the edges of her memory.

NADINE GREW UP TO BECOME a landscape designer, but back in the day she was simply Chris’s best friend. Both girls came from families of boys, and they became thick as thieves in seventh grade when they met at Madison Junior High School. “We were total tomboys,” Nadine recalled. “We signed up for the basketball team and both of us sucked, so we sat on the bench together. We weren’t tall, and neither of us were good shooters, but we had fun.”