Nina and her cat Phil made me contemplate my life as a thirty-something living in a city a little less hipster than LA. She is, as was I, fond of her easy life as a bookish person, with her friends and her pub-quiz team. Until a long lost dead father turns her life around, gives her siblings and a boyfriend she doesn't want. What more can I want as a reader, lusting for something funny, light and airy as a chocolate cupcake with a bit of chili?
'You're a craven coward and wouldn't even emerge to defend your second favorite nineteenth-century writer. For shame.'
Liz shrugged. 'Ms. Austen needs no defense. You did fine, and besides, I've never forgotten a long conversation I had with that particular customer about LSD and the boundaries of consciousness.' She straightened some copies of Roller Girl. 'I thought I was asking about her vacation, but it turned out she'd stayed home and gone further than she ever thought possible.' She tipped her head down to peer at Nina over her glasses, her short, dark hair barely touched with gray, despite the several careers she'd had, and the many cities and lives she'd been part of. 'There was a long portion about the deep inner beauty of yogurt when viewed through the lens of hallucinogens that put me off Yoplait for life.'
Nina regarded her carefully. 'I find that story almost impossible to believe.'
Liz turned and walked toward non-fiction. 'I should hope so, seeing as I completely made it up.'