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Where the Money Went
By: Kevin Canty , Michelle TeaeBook Publisher: Random House
Imprint: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Format: ePub Encrypted (DRM)
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In these nine surprising stories about love and the desertion of love, a father contemplates his bank balance amid receipts for ski vacations; a real-estate agent tries to sell a house while his small son bites other children; and a widower, resigned to television for company, discovers the pleasures of life with another woman. In Kevin Canty’s masterful collection, men convey the bitterness, tenderness, and humor of romantic relationships. Rarely is a man so revealing.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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| Title of Business & Economics eBook: Where the Money Went | |
| Release Date: 07-14-2009 | |
| Allowed Countries (hover) | |
| Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group |
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
| Parent title | Where the Money Went |
|---|---|
| Encrypted (DRM) | Yes |
| SKU | 9780385530071 |
| File size | 1759 |
| Internet Security | n/a |
| Printing | Not allowed |
| Copying | Not allowed |
| Read aloud | No Sys requirements Download reader |
| Devices | Samsung Tablet, Apple Ipad & Iphone, Barnes & Noble Nook, Kobo eReader, Aluratek Libre, Iliad, Nokia, Blackberry, Hanlin |
| Note | ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it. |
Where the Money Went
Where the Money Went
When the thing was over, Braxton sat down at the kitchen table of his apartment and tried to figure out what they had done with the money.
Some of it went for schools, of course, good private schools--the hippy school for Lucinda and the Spanish Academy for Steve. The hippy school was a parent co-op. Braxton remembered sweating through a parent meeting, drunk: the affluent and lawyerly, trying out their voices on one another. On and on. It was like being in the eighth grade again, stupid with boredom, ready to flee. Plus the parent co-op was more expensive than the academy, ten thousand a year versus six. Plus the afterschool care. Plus Brenda, the sitter. The weekend art lessons, the tennis clinics, swimming.
Not that the public schools were terrible. They were fine.
Some of it went for cars, landscaping, clothes, vacations. The four of them flew to Honolulu for Christmas, Vail for Presidents' Day. He sat with pencil and envelope-back (he was pre-approved for fifty thousand dollars more) and tried to figure how a simple skiing weekend could cost so much: lift tickets, lunches, the fat, hourglass-shaped skis he bought himself and then, out of something like guilt, bought his wife. It wasn't the skis he bought himself that were wasted, he thought. He was a decent skier, he enjoyed it. No, it was the skis he bought his wife, hoping to encourage her. She used them that weekend and never again. Five hundred for the skis, one-and-a-quarter for the bindings. Then of course new boots.
That was a waste, he thought.
The snorkeling equipment, the Windsurfer, the mountain bike. A Klein, he remembered. He had spent months researching what the absolute best kind t...
When the thing was over, Braxton sat down at the kitchen table of his apartment and tried to figure out what they had done with the money.
Some of it went for schools, of course, good private schools--the hippy school for Lucinda and the Spanish Academy for Steve. The hippy school was a parent co-op. Braxton remembered sweating through a parent meeting, drunk: the affluent and lawyerly, trying out their voices on one another. On and on. It was like being in the eighth grade again, stupid with boredom, ready to flee. Plus the parent co-op was more expensive than the academy, ten thousand a year versus six. Plus the afterschool care. Plus Brenda, the sitter. The weekend art lessons, the tennis clinics, swimming.
Not that the public schools were terrible. They were fine.
Some of it went for cars, landscaping, clothes, vacations. The four of them flew to Honolulu for Christmas, Vail for Presidents' Day. He sat with pencil and envelope-back (he was pre-approved for fifty thousand dollars more) and tried to figure how a simple skiing weekend could cost so much: lift tickets, lunches, the fat, hourglass-shaped skis he bought himself and then, out of something like guilt, bought his wife. It wasn't the skis he bought himself that were wasted, he thought. He was a decent skier, he enjoyed it. No, it was the skis he bought his wife, hoping to encourage her. She used them that weekend and never again. Five hundred for the skis, one-and-a-quarter for the bindings. Then of course new boots.
That was a waste, he thought.
The snorkeling equipment, the Windsurfer, the mountain bike. A Klein, he remembered. He had spent months researching what the absolute best kind t...
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