Bringing Home the British

My second wedding — this time, Vermont style. (My sister Kit, right.)

He had a British accent, and spoke around the stem of his pipe; he talked philosophy and politics, and when the topic called for it, he gave a dirty laugh, half French, with a twitch of his short mustache.

Mom loved him right away.

“I can really talk with this one,” she told me enthusiastically. “I never knew what to say to the other one.”