Showing posts with label # Books We Love Blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label # Books We Love Blog. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

Writing With My Sister, Gwen by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

 

 

https://books2read.com/Single-Bells
https://books2read.com/The-Twelve-Dates-of-Christmas

https://bwlpublishing.ca/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

I live in Edmonton, Alberta, and my sister, Gwen Donaldson lives in Vancouver B.C. Together we have written two holiday/comedy/romance novels. Gwen has been married three times and has had many romantic relationships. I, on the other hand, spent eight years in my first marriage and am up to forty plus years in my second. So we say that Gwen is the one who had done the research for our novels and I am the one who has turned that research into a manuscript.

For our first one, The Twelve Dates of Christmas, Gwen recorded some of her experiences of going out with men she met on dating sites and I transcribed them and added background, career, and family and friends for Stacy, the main character. I also looked up stories posted by women who have had disastrous dates and rewrote parts of them to add to the story.

Since there is seven years between books, Gwen has had lots of time to do more research and many of the dates in our second novel, Single Bells, are revamped versions of some of her encounters. Again, I pulled her stories together and added a story line for each of the Bell sisters. For both book, after I had written part of the manuscript I emailed it to her. she read them and offered her thoughts and ideas. For Single Bells, we even met at my daughter's place in Peurto Vallarta, Mexico, to work on it. And even though most of our pictures show us sight-seeing, shopping, and enjoying wine and Mojitos, we did get some work done.

So far both novels have dealt with women who have had disastrous dates with men they have met on dating sites but it isn't just women who have had bad experiences. I read about a man who invited a woman out for drinks. It happened to be at a restaurant where they were offering a dozen oysters for $15. Since she liked oysters she ordered and slurped her way through forty-eight of them. Her date went to the bathroom and never came back. She had to pay the $184 bill plus tip. He later offered to pay for the drinks as that was what he had originally asked her out for.

I mentioned to Gwen that maybe our next holiday/comedy/romance book should be about a man who tries to find the right woman through dating sites and the calamitous results. Gwen, ever the quick mind, replied, "We could call it Single Balls."

Our first novel, The Twelve Dates of Christmas is about Stacy Martin who's friends decide she must go on at least twelve dates and find a boyfriend by Christmas Eve. They prepay for three sites so she can join them.

Our latest novel is called Single Bells and is about sisters Simone and Serena Bell. Simone's marriage is just breaking up while Serena is still looking for the right man. It is in pre-release right now and will be released on November 1. Here is the first chapter.

                                                   

 

                                 Single Bells

                       Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

                                          And Gwen Donaldson

 

 

Copyright 2023 by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey and Gwen Donaldson

Cover art by Pandora Designs

 

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

 

 Dedication

To Bob G. A Very Dear Friend

                                      Chapter One

Simone Bell-Watson looked up as Raymond Webster of the Webster Private Detective Agency entered her office. He walked up to her desk and set a brown manila envelope on it. The envelope had her first name printed in capital letters on the front. Raymond then went to the coffee corner and put a pod of coffee in the top of the machine and closed the lid. He pushed the button to start it.

Simone looked down at the envelope in front of her. Did she want to open it? She’d hired Raymond Webster three weeks ago to follow her husband, Griffin. Six months ago Griffin had claimed to have made new friends and began spending time with them going to hockey games, bars, or just having coffee. But he was never able to describe the games they went to and he’d never brought his new friends to the house.

“Would you like me to summarize my report or do you want to read it?” Raymond asked as he carried his paper cup of coffee to the chair in front of her desk. He was in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair worn in a type of crew cut that was three centimetres long at the top and tapered on the sides. He had on blue jeans and a black leather jacket, which seemed to be the typical outfit of private detectives on television.

Instead of answering, Simone turned the envelope over and lifted the flap. She reached in and pulled out three sheets of paper and two large, coloured photographs. She spread them out on her desk and gasped in shock. She stared at the pictures for a long time before finally picking them up, one in each hand. The first was typical of the type you saw on television detective shows where the spouse is kissing another person in front of a motel door. The other one was Griffin and a man climbing out of the back seat of a car half dressed. Both were laughing. It was at night and looked like they were in a deserted parking lot.

“That was taken in Stanley Park. I had followed the man there and used a Nikon night vision camera.”

Simone blinked back the tears. It was true. Griffin was having an affair, something she’d suspected while at the same time not really believing he would do that to her, to their marriage. What she hadn’t imagined or expected was that it would be with another man.

“As you know, it has taken me a long time to finally get these pictures,” Raymond said. “He must have been suspicious that someone was watching him because whenever I tried to follow him he would make quick turns and drive through different neighbourhoods never stopping anywhere. It was really impossible for me to keep up with him and still not be noticed. I lost him many times. So I tried a different tactic.”

Raymond took a sip of his coffee. “I began watching the women at his work place but nothing seemed to be going on there. Then I sat and watched the women in your neighbourhood. Again, nothing.” He paused. “I finally decided to watch the men.”

Simone studied the pictures. She didn’t recognize the man.

“This one always seemed to leave his house at the same time as your husband. So I followed him. He wasn’t as wary as your husband and drove straight to the park that night.”

Simone set the photographs down and picked up the report. It gave an itemized account of what Raymond had done each evening that he had followed Griffin or the days he had watched Griffin’s work place. She read them through, remembering the excuses Griffin had given for leaving the house.

“I need some cigarettes and beer.”

“I’m meeting my friends at a bar for some drinks.”

At the bottom of the third page was the total amount she owed.

Simone took a deep breath. “Would you like a cheque or an e-transfer?”

“E-transfer is fine.”

Raymond gave her his email address and she went on her cell phone and made the payment.

“If you ever need me again, just give me a call.” Raymond set his cup on her desk and left the room.

Simone stared down at the pictures. She and Griffin had been married three years and, until six months ago, she had thought it was a good marriage. Then he had made new friends and began to change. He shaved before going out and he talked about getting hair transplants for his thinning crown. She had recognized those changes as signs that he may have someone new in his life, someone he wanted to impress. And she’d just been proven right.

She didn’t know why she was more stunned Griffin was having an affair with a man than she might have been if he’d been seeing a woman. It wasn’t such an uncommon occurrence anymore. There were even shows about it, shows like Frankie and Grace starring Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, Sam Waterston, and Martin Sheen. They had been two couples for years and then the men finally admitted that they had fallen in love. The women had taken it hard and then tried to get on with their lives. With her blonde hair, medium height, and blue eyes she wasn’t as sophisticated as Jane Fonda’s character or as off the wall as Lilly Tomlin’s but she may have to watch old episodes of the show to see how they worked their way to their new normal.

Well, it was time to put her back-up plan to work for, in spite of her hopes, deep in her mind she’d known what the result would be—Griffin was seeing someone else. And she had prepared for that.

Simone picked up her phone and dialed a number. “This is Simone Bell-Watson. I’d like to take that storage unit we discussed and I will be bringing my furniture in this afternoon.”

While waiting for the person on the other end to agree, Simone decided she would have to get busy and change the name on her important papers back to Bell.

“We’re open until six this evening.”

“Thank you.” Simone hung up and dialed another number. “I’m Simone Bell-Watson. I phoned last week about possibly needing your services to move my furniture.”

“Yes, I remember you,” the woman on the other end said.

“I’d like your men and truck to be at my place at one o’clock this afternoon.”

“Just a minute while I check our schedule.”

Simone stared at the wall while she waited. She wasn’t sure what was harder to take, losing a husband to a heart attack at the age of thirty-seven or having a husband cheat on her. Both meant a loss of a marriage, of a lifestyle, and of a planned future with a man. She and her first husband, Lucas, had met when she was nineteen and had dated for two years before marrying. That had lasted until his death seven years later. It had taken her two years before she began dating again and had met Griffin. For a second time she’d fallen in love and looked forward to a long marriage.

“I can arrange for a crew to meet you at one o’clock.”

Simone was startled out of her reverie and brought back to the present. “Thank you.”

After Simone had given her address, she made one more phone call. This one she dreaded but it was necessary for, while she’d made plans for moving out if necessary, she’d left this one until the last possible moment.

“Hello, Simone,” a woman’s voice said.

“Hi, Mom. I’ll get right to the point. I need a place to stay for a while.”

“So, you’re finally leaving that ne’er-do-well.”

“Ne’er do well? Why do you keep using those old words?” Her mother, Patricia Reed-Bell, was a very successful, historical romance writer who liked to add little-used and archaic words to her speech. She had just turned seventy and had been a widow since the death of Simone’s father, Craig, almost two years ago.

“Because they have a lot more flair and elegance than today’s words,” Patricia said. “Lazy and shiftless just doesn’t express the same righteous indignation. Although, Griffin was certainly lazy and shiftless. So what did he do that finally made you to come to your senses?”

Simone thought about lying and saying that she’d been the one having an affair and decided to leave him, but she knew the truth would come out. After all, she couldn’t tell that to her and Griffin’s friends. She wondered if some of them already suspected he’d been screwing around on her. She knew people automatically suspected an affair if they saw a married man or woman out with someone of the opposite sex. Would her friends have thought an affair if they saw Griffin out with a man? She knew she wouldn’t if she’d seen one of their husbands with another man. She’d have thought it was a couple of buddies having a drink.

“Griffin is seeing someone.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell the whole truth just yet.

There was quiet on the other end. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Patricia finally said.

“I have to go and pack my things.” Simone didn’t want to talk about how she had found out right now.

“I’ll have Lauren put one more plate on the table for dinner.”

Lauren Huckley had been hired part-time by Patricia to look after Craig when he’d had his first stroke three years ago. When Craig died from a second stroke Lauren had continued to come in three days a week to clean and cook. But Patricia enjoyed her company, so last July had hired her full time and Lauren had moved into the house. She didn’t have a car and used Patricia’s whenever they went out or she needed to go shopping.

“I’m not sure what time I’ll get there.”

“We’ll keep it warm for you.”

Simone hung up and sat looking at the pictures. She wasn’t sure if she was angrier at being such a fool, or more hurt that he had lied to her, or more embarrassed that she’d had to hire a private investigator. She’d been in love with Griffin since their second date, but she’d also known that he wasn’t ready to settle down. While they dated she continued with the studies she’d started after Lucas died and had received her Bachelor’s degree in English literature. After hearing for years how her mother’s literary agent had worked hard to find the right publishing house for her manuscripts and had gotten her many lucrative deals, Simone had decided she wanted to become a literary agent. There weren’t any requirements such as training, exams, or certifications to become an agent but she knew she had to gain experience. She worked as an assistant at a publishing company to learn the ins and outs of the publishing industry. She found that it took hard work and determination to be an agent but the most important thing she learned was the art of negotiation. After two years she started her own agency.

She began by working out of her home using the inheritance money she’d received from her grandmother to live on. She built up a stable of clients and found publishers to work with. Finally, last year she’d rented an office, put Bell Literary Agency on the door, and hired two agents.

Just when Simone was about to pop the question herself, Griffin finally asked her to marry him. At the time, she hadn’t been sure if that was because he wanted to get married or because he was tired of her hanging around waiting for the question to be asked. She had even thought it might have been because her company was growing and she was earning good money. Now, she wondered if it was because he hadn’t been able to admit his sexual preference and had wanted to hide in their marriage.

She’d thought he was a good husband, although not very ambitious. He’d been working in a warehouse when they met and he was still doing the exact same job now. They seldom argued and while they also seldom hugged or kissed and the sex had been sparse, she was happy in their marriage. Looking back now, she realized they were more like housemates instead of lovers. But she’d thought that in spite of their lack of lovemaking he was at least faithful. Now that had proven to be false. And being unfaithful was a deal breaker for her whether it was with a woman or a man.

Simone wiped a tear from her eye. Her marriage was over and nothing would change that. She was closing in on forty and alone again. Probably would be for the rest of her life.

Rather than phone her younger sister, Simone sent a text telling Serena that she was leaving Griffin and would be transferring her things out of the condo and into storage and moving in with their mother. Then she shut off her phone. She didn’t need to go through the whole explanation right now.

Simone picked up the envelope, stood, and went around her desk. She took her coat off the coat rack and put it on. She opened the door to the outer office where her secretary, Grace, was typing on her keyboard.

It was the first week of December and the room had a decorated Christmas tree in one corner and lights around the outer door. Holiday music played softly through the open door of the office across hers which was shared by her two agents. She could see Jilly on the phone and Ramona reading on her computer screen through the doorway.

“I’ll be gone for the rest of the day.” Simone told Grace.

“But you have a client coming in to discuss his new manuscript.” Grace was dressed in jeans and a red sweater with a reindeer brooch on the shoulder. There were matching reindeer earrings in her ears. She’d been dressing in red or green outfits since December first.

“Give him my apologies and reschedule for tomorrow or the next day, which ever suits him,” Simone said. She’d worked hard to grow her literary agency and always tried to be available for her clients. But what she had to do was more important. And she had to work fast at packing up her clothes and dishes and bedding and everything else in the condo. Griffin got off work at five. “And I will have my phone off until tomorrow, so just leave me a message.”

Grace nodded.

Simone went over to the photocopier to make two copies of each of the pictures Raymond Webster had given her. She felt Grace watching her since photocopying was part of her job, but these pictures were something Simone didn’t want to share with everyone. She put the original and copies in the envelope and hurried down to her bright red Mercedes car in the underground parkade. She drove out onto the street. It was half snowing/half raining, which wasn’t unusual for Vancouver this time of year. If she wasn’t so hurt and angry the snow might have put her in the Christmas spirit.

Simone drove to the condo she and Griffin shared. It was on the second floor of the building and overlooked the city and the mountains in the distance. She loved the view and would miss it. They wouldn’t have any trouble selling it unless Griffin wanted to buy her out. She snorted at the idea. In their three years of marriage Griffin hadn’t looked for a better paying job. She wasn’t sure if that was because he really liked his work or because he didn’t care about growing and expanding his prospects. The monthly condo payments and fees, groceries, and utilities were paid out of their joint account but her deposits were larger than his. And he had only come up with one-third of the condo down payment. She had kept the paperwork to prove it.

 

* * *

 

Serena Bell set down the bill of lading for the shipment of beer that had been delivered to her pub that morning on her desk and looked at the text from her sister. She read it twice before actually believing it. Then she nodded in satisfaction. Simone had finally smartened up and was leaving Griffin. Serena had never liked the man, finding him lazy and basically willing to live off his wife.

Serena decided to go to Simone’s condo. She figured there was no use wasting this opportunity to help get her sister away from that man. Also, it would be a chance to find out what had happened that would cause her to leave the man she had waited so long to marry. It must have been something drastic to cause Simone to decide to move in with their mother.

She finished up some paperwork then picked up her purse and keys and hurried out into the main lounge area. She’d owned this pub for just over a year and she still got a thrill to look around and realize it belonged to her. She’d spent most of her twenties working as a salesperson in a department store, or a server in a restaurant or, after getting her mixology license, a bartender in a bar or pub. These jobs lasted long enough for her to save some money and then she travelled throughout Canada and the United States for as long as the money lasted. While working in the bars she’d enjoyed mixing drinks for her customers and had learned a few easy, flair techniques, like the basic flip, ice throwing, and the palm pivot. They weren’t as easy as they looked but she’d perfected them through much practice.

Then two years ago she’d decided it was time to grow up so she’d bought the original bar here in Richmond using the inheritance she, Simone, and four other grandchildren had received from their grandmother. At the same time, she’d put a down payment on one of the condos above it.

But she knew that owning a bar wasn’t for her. She didn’t like the racket of the music and loud conversation or having to deal with the drunks or put up with the groping hands of some of the customers.

When she started looking for some place to buy she’d learned that the difference between a pub and a bar was that bars are all about selling alcohol. They served beer, a wide selection of cocktails, and not much in the way of food, usually snacks or appetizers. Bars targeted a specific market. That’s why there were many different types like, sports bars, ladies bars, and gay bars.

Pubs were half way between a bar and a restaurant. They didn’t target an audience; they were open to anyone and everyone. They served beer, wine, and cider and had a full menu of food from breakfast to desserts. Because of the wide variety of food and little liquor, minors were allowed in as long as accompanied by an adult.

So she’d made some changes to the original business. She renovated the kitchen to increase efficiency and flow, expanded the menu to include more choices, and updated the front of the house, as the area where she and her staff interacted with customers was called. She knew that first impressions were very important, so she enlarged the entranceway and added a comfortable couch for waiting customers or ones who had come to pick up an order to sit on. She also placed menus on a small shelf in the corner so they had something to read while waiting.

She made sure the hostess station was visible from the door, as well as from the rest of the room. That way anyone of the staff could greet the customers as soon as they entered. She kept the menus on the podium, handy for the server to pick up while leading the customers to a table or booth.

Most importantly, she changed the name to the B&B Pub. The name was a conversation starter with the customers and always got a laugh when she explained its origin. In school she and Simone had called themselves the BB sisters or the BB Bells: BB standing for Brains and Brawn for Simone because she’d been smart and a tom boy. Serena was Brains and Beauty. She made high grades in her classes and had also been beautiful, winning two minor beauty pageants in her teens. Since then, she’d put on a little weight and cut her long, blonde hair short. She was two years younger than Simone and just an inch shorter.

Lenny Newman, her beverage server/waiter, was behind the counter. She walked up to him.

“I’ll be gone for the rest of the day.”

“Okay, Boss,” Lenny smiled. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“Thank you. Give me a call if anything comes up.”

Serena walked out the front of the B&B Pub and around the corner to the pub parking lot. Past that, at the back of the building, was her metallic blue Prius in the condo parking lot. Traffic was light and it took only half hour to get to her sister’s place in Vancouver. There was a large van parked in the front of the building doors and three men were unloading flattened boxes when she arrived. Serena had a key to the building and Simone’s condo.

“Where are you men going?”

“We’re moving the furniture of a Simone Bell-Watson out of her condo.”

She nodded and opened the doors for them. She led them up to the fourth floor condo.

“Serena. What are you doing here?” Simone exclaimed when Serena walked in.

“I’ve come to help you.”

“This could take a while. Aren’t you supposed to meet Jerry for dinner tonight?”

Serena waved her hand in dismissal. She had found Jerry online and after six weeks of texting, they had met in person a month ago. Since then she’d seen him twice and the last time hadn’t gone well. Jerry had questioned her about her religion and how important it was to her. Once she’d told him she was a Protestant but didn’t go to church regularly his texts had slowed. “He called me yesterday and said he had decided to go to Calgary to see his family for Hanukah. I have all day and evening to help you so tell me what to do.”

The three men began opening up the folded boxes and taping the bottoms.

“You can pack the dishes I’ve set on the counter into those boxes, while I show the men what furniture I’m taking with me.”

Serena took off her coat and threw it on a kitchen chair. The kitchen, dining room, and living room was all one open area. Down a short hallway were the two bedrooms and a bathroom. Off the living room was a deck where Serena and Simone had spent many an evening drinking wine, talking, and laughing. Serena was going to miss visits with her sister and the view of the city and mountains.

The condo and deck were adorned with Simone’s usual abundance of Christmas decorations, although she hadn’t put up her tree. Serena knew that Griffin disliked the Christmas fuss and advertising and gift giving, stating that it was only to line the rich people’s pockets. He particularly disliked all the decorations Simone put up in their apartment. Serena wondered if Griffin had finally had enough of the Christmas season.

On the counter sat stacks of plates, dessert plates, bowls, and rows of glasses and coffee cups. Serena picked up one of the packing papers and set it on the bottom of a box then set a plate on top. She kept layering the plates, then did the pie plates and bowls. She set the tray of cutlery and other cooking utensils on the bottom of another box and wrapped the glasses and coffee cups in the papers and laid them on top.

While Serena was filling the boxes, the men carried the couch, love seat, ottoman, and end tables out to the van. One of the men smiled at her when he went by. He was the youngest and the tallest of the three and had dark hair shaved on the sides and curly on top, blue eyes, and high cheekbones. She guessed his age to be in the mid-thirties, while the other two were in their forties. He had taken off his jacket and she could see the muscles bulging under his black t-shirt. She returned the smile, feeling a warming sensation in her stomach.

The men hauled the bed, dressers, and night stands from the master bedroom through the living room and out the door. Serena paused and watched them go by. Actually, all of the men were in good shape but the two older men were intent on doing their job. The younger one caught her eye again and winked.

Simone carried plastic garbage bags out of her bedroom and set them against the wall by the door. “These are my clothes and they will go in the back of my car when we leave,” she told Serena and the men.

“Where is your furniture going?” Serena asked Simone as she went to the kitchen sink and ran some water into a glass.

“I’ve rented a storage unit and I’m going to put them there until I figure out where I’m going next.”

Serena felt sorry for her sister. Simone had lost one husband to a heart attack and now was losing another to divorce. Serena had never been lucky enough, if lucky was the right word, to find a man she wanted to settle down with. She’d had many lovers and affairs but they had only been a ‘passing fancy’ as her mother called them.

Serena knew now wasn’t the time to ask Simone what had happened between her and Griffin. It looked as if Simone was in a hurry to get everything out of the condo before Griffin came home from work. Serena noticed that Simone was leaving all the furniture in the guest bedroom. She knew that the bed and dresser in it were the only furniture that Griffin had brought into their marriage. The rest had belonged to Simone.

As Serena boxed up cooking and baking ware, the man in the black t-shirt stopped at the counter and slid a piece of paper with his name, Doug, and phone number on it towards her. “Call me,” he said then hurried to catch up with the other men.

“Another man falling under your spell?” Simone asked as she took down the Christmas decorations.

Serena laughed. Although they called themselves the BB Bell sisters, their friends had also given them nicknames: Simone with her quick smile, had been known as Tinker Bell because she liked to tinker around on cars with their father. They’d taken an old clunker that she bought with the money she’d saved from her babysitting and part-time job and had fixed it up and painted it. Simone had driven her friends to school football games and to parties in it.

Serena was called Hells Bells by her friends because she was always getting into trouble. There hadn’t been a week go by that she wasn’t called into the principal’s office for some prank she pulled. And because of her beauty she’d been popular with the boys. They would line up in school and beg her for a date causing blockades in the hallways. That usually got her a trip to the principal’s office even though she claimed it wasn’t her fault. Sometimes, when her sister was gone, Serena would sneak Simone’s keys and take her friends for a joy ride. They always pooled their money afterwards and put gas in the tank so Simone wouldn’t notice.

“He is kind of cute,” Serena said, putting the paper in her purse.

“What about Jerry?” Simone carefully placed the decorations in two boxes.

“I haven’t seen him enough to consider it serious. I’m not even sure if we’re even dating.” She decided to change subjects. She held up the decorations she’d been taking down. “Are you putting those in storage also?” Their mother decorated her house but not as much as Simone was used to.

“I’m taking these to Mom’s. Her house needs more than what she puts up.

Serena smiled. Their mother was in for a surprise this holiday season.

“Do you want to come for dinner at Mom’s?”

“Oh, it’s pretty late to be showing up unexpectedly.”

“I’ll text her and let her know you’ll be joining us. Lauren always makes extra in case she or Mom wants a snack later so I’m sure there’s enough food for one more.”

 

 

* * *

 

Simone was tired. Her furniture was in her storage unit and she and Serena had driven to their mother’s house on Oak Street. They’d unloaded bags of clothes and carried them up to her old bedroom on the second floor. Her boxes of decorations had gone in the basement. Lauren had kept the food she’d prepared warm and she now set it on the table.

“You hired a gumshoe?” Serena asked as she, Simone, Lauren and their mother sat down for their dinner in Patricia’s dining room. The room was large with a glass topped table that sat up to eight people and white straight-backed leather chairs. Along one wall was an antique sideboard that had belonged to Patricia’s grandmother and above it hung a large rectangle mirror. An archway led into the kitchen and another one on the wall opposite the sideboard let into the living room. The fourth wall had a double patio door that opened onto a deck overlooking the garden area.

“They don’t call themselves gumshoes, I’ve been informed,” Simone said as she dished up some scalloped potatoes. “At one time that cliché probably fit because the private detectives wore street shoes with thick, rubber soles so they could walk softly. Now they wear all types of footwear and have more sophisticated ways of tracking someone.”

“So what all did the detective do? How did he find out Griffin was cheating?”

Simone grimaced at the word cheating but she had decided to answer all their questions and get it over with. “Raymond Webster of the Webster Private Detective Agency tried to follow him, but he kept evading him. Finally Mr. Webster watched the women where Griffin worked and in our neighbourhood. When nothing developed there he started looking at the men. He noticed that one of our neighbours left his house around the same time that Griffin left ours. He followed him and found them together.”

Simone took a drink of her wine and didn’t watch them as the news sunk in.

“Oh,” Patricia said.

“Really?” was Serena’s reaction. “For sure? And he got pictures?”

Lauren said nothing.

Simone nodded in answer to Serena’s question. Before she’d left the condo, she’d spread the photographs on the counter and left them for Griffin. That was all the explanation he would get from her. It should be all the explanation he needed.

“And you never suspected he was gay?” Serena asked.

“No.”

“Really?” Serena and Patricia exchanged glances.

“Why? Did you?” Simone stared from her sister to her mother.

“Well,” Patricia said slowly. “We did wonder.”

“Why?” Simone asked again. “What did he do?”

“Oh, it was nothing overt,” Serena said. “Just some of his mannerism, like the way he occasionally waved his hand or struck a pose. Until today, though, if I’d been asked if I truly thought he was gay. I would have said no.”

Simone couldn’t believe that she had missed the signs. Had she been so much in love with him that she’d refused to acknowledge them? Had she thought her love would keep him at her side?

“Are you going to take some time off?” Patricia asked.

Simone was jerked from her thoughts. “No time off. I’ll be back in the office tomorrow, right after I see a lawyer and a real estate agent.”

“Good for you, Dear. No use dwelling on times of yore. And you can stay here as long as you need.”

“Thank you, Mom.” She smiled at her mother.

Patricia was a small, pretty woman with dark hair. She stood barely five foot two inches and had only reached their father’s chest when standing beside him. Simone and Serena had taken after Craig in height and with their blonde hair.

Simone looked at Lauren wondering why she was so quiet. Usually she kept them laughing by telling them about the antics she and their mother had gotten into since their last visit. Maybe she was quiet because of the reason Simone was moving in. Maybe she thought it was too sombre an occasion for levity.

“Anything new happen since the last time we saw you two?” Simone asked looking from her mother to Lauren.

“We went to a Christmas craft sale and bought some candles and scented soap,” Lauren said. She was medium height with long brown hair that she kept in a ponytail or braids. She was in her mid-forties and had been married once. Her parents were still alive and she had one sister.

Patricia nodded. “And we also went shopping for gifts.” She added with a smile.

“Oh!” Serena exclaimed bouncing up and down in her chair. “What did you buy us? What did you buy us?”

Simone remembered the two of them pestering their parents with that same question every year when they were children.

“Nothing for either of you,” Patricia said, a sparkle in her eye. “You’re both on the naughty list.”

Simone laughed for the first time that day. That had also been her mother’s reaction to their question every year.

“Oh,” Serena pouted then she brightened. “Christmas isn’t here yet. I have plenty of time to find out. And speaking of Christmas, it’s time to get in the spirit. I’m going to see the lights at the VanDusen Gardens one evening next week. Anyone want to join me?”

“I haven’t been there since Mom and Dad took us as kids,” Simone said. “I’ll go with you.” She wanted to start doing some Christmas activities. The news about Griffin had put a damper on her mood but she didn’t want to let it spoil the season. She knew there was no way they would ever get back together. If Griffin had been seeing a woman, he could say he’d made a mistake and wanted another chance. But he couldn’t change his sexual orientation. She knew she would have sad days, but she also knew it was definitely over.

“Me, too,” Patricia said.

They all looked at Lauren. “I’ll go, too,” she smiled.

 

Saturday, September 23, 2023

Why I Wrote a Contemporary Western Romance by Victoria Chatham

 


AVAILABLE HERE


The elements of writing a book can take many forms, but most authors have to do at least some research. For Loving That Cowboy, I had to do a lot. It all started when an editor I'd pitched the idea to at a conference told me I was too English to write a contemporary Western romance. I can't say I was surprised, but I was disappointed. I put the idea aside and concentrated instead on Regency romance. Write what you know, right? I had been immersed in that genre since reading my first Georgette Heyer when I was thirteen years old. I loved the history, the style, and the wit of the Regency era, but that editor's comment still niggled. I had a story, characters, plot, and all the usual stuff. What I didn't have was any knowledge of ranching and rodeos. 

My endlessly patient DDH took me to rodeos, the small out-of-town rodeos where you can be close to the action, as well as the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth - the Calgary Stampede. I took photographs from every angle and talked to whoever I could, from the rodeo clowns and pick-up riders to stock contractors, one of whom invited me to visit his ranch. While I was thrilled, my DDH was less so but came along for the ride anyway. Approaching the ranch, we came across a bull loose in the middle of the road. There was no room to drive around it, so we sat there until it decided to move on. We duly arrived at the ranch house and reported said bull, only to have the rancher's wife ask, "Only the one?" From that, I gathered it was a fairly regular occurrence. 

While there, I was able to see bucking bulls and broncs up close and personal and talk to a couple of Australian bull riders, one of whom showed me how to wrap the rigging, just in case I ever fancied getting on a bull that is. Not a chance. I also needed the skinny on a regular cowboy's working day, and for that, I found Steve. Now, anyone who understands anything about the Western way of life will understand the inherent politeness cowboys have. This one blushed red when I asked if I could take him out for a steak dinner in return for his time, as I had a long list of questions. In the end, we compromised and went for pizza.

While waiting for our orders to be served, Steve started reading my list. Then he started to chuckle, which turned into a belly laugh. The question that amused him so much? What kind of underwear do cowboys wear? When he'd finished laughing and wiped away his tears, he asked why I wanted to know that.

"Look it, Steve," I said. "If my heroine is going to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of his blue jeans, what is she going to connect with? Hot skin or red flannel long johns?"

Turns out, it depends on the time of year and personal preference. And Steve? That's on par with what a Scotsman wears under his kilt. So you can judge for yourselves how I did, here's Chapter 1 of Loving That Cowboy. I hope you enjoy it.


Chapter One

 

Trisha Watts closed her eyes, muttering a prayer to the gods of the airways for a safe landing. The plane banked and levelled into its flight path. The change in pressure made her ears pop, and even yawning and swallowing in quick succession did little to alleviate the pain. Even the oblivion of being in a coma for eight weeks would be preferable to this unexpected result of her accident. Her stomach lurched, and she held herself tightly.

Her last-minute booking secured her a seat towards the tail-end of the plane, but it didn’t matter where she sat. Her nerves now jangled from take-off to landing on any flight. The plane approached the runway in what seemed interminable degrees. With barely a bump to indicate when it landed, it touched down and raced along the tarmac. The sound of the reverse engines reverberated through her head until she wanted to scream.

Everyone rushed to deplane, but not wanting to be part of the crush, she calmed herself as she unbuckled her seat belt and simply waited her turn. As soon as she had room to move, Trisha stood up, stepped into the aisle and reached up to the overhead compartment for her carry-on.

“Let me get that for you.”

A man’s large, long-fingered hand brushed past hers.

“Thanks, I can manage.” She flashed a glance at the owner of the hand.

“I’m sure you can.” His disarming smile showed even white teeth, the result she suspected of healthy living or a very good dentist. “But my momma raised me to always help a lady.”

“Then your momma would be very proud of you.” Trisha stepped back. Her helper’s large frame completely overwhelmed her own five foot seven inches.

Mischief sparked in his smoky-grey eyes. He held the carry-on’s handle for a moment more as if aware his assistance irritated her. “This looks pretty beat up. You travel a lot?”

“Only when I have to.” Given a choice, she preferred a cozy room and a good book to a packed airplane.

He grunted a little as he lifted the carry-on from the compartment. “You carrying the kitchen sink in here?”

“It’s my camera kit.”

“Must be some camera.”

“I’m a photo-journalist, and that case contains several pieces of very valuable equipment. Please be careful with it.”

She reached for the handle, but he continued to hold it. With amusement in his eyes and a teasing smile on his face, he made sure his fingers grazed hers before finally relinquishing his grip. His touch raised goose bumps on her skin, from pleasure or apprehension she couldn’t immediately determine.

“Thank you.” She turned on her heel to join the end of the shuffling line of passengers.

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

The hot breath of his whisper lingered on her neck. Intuition told her he’d intended it to. She bit back a hasty comment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her composure. Despite his attempt to help her, she thought his momma may not have approved of his teasing.

At the exit, she thanked the cabin staff flanking the doorway and breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped onto the jetway. Relief fled when her would-be helper quickly caught up with her.

“Goin’ my way?” he asked as he settled a wide-brimmed cowboy hat on his head.

Trisha shook her head. Heaven help him if that was his only pick-up line.

Striding along the jetway to get ahead of him, she stopped when he overtook her. He winked at her, but before she could vent her frustration with him, he walked away. People coming up behind her grumbled that she was in their way, and she started forward again. Now trailing the large figure by several yards, she kept her distance, hoping he’d accepted that she wasn’t interested in him or his banter.

Annoyed with herself for not being able to take her eyes off his broad shoulders and slim hips, she continued to lag behind. His plaid shirt and denim jeans looked clean and fresh after the long flight, while her clothes were crumpled and creased. Even his boots, though worn at the heel, were clean. He looked every inch a cowboy and so very appealing, but none knew better than she how deceiving looks could be.

Trisha tried not to think about him, but then he passed her while she waited at the luggage carousel. This time he didn’t offer to help.

“Welcome to Calgary, ma’am. Hope you enjoy your stay in our city.” He tipped his hat to her and sauntered off.

“Hope there’s a sunset for you to ride into, cowboy,” she muttered as she grabbed her suitcase and made her own way out into the concourse.

Momentarily disoriented, Trisha stopped to get her bearings. The crowd flowed around her and moved on. She watched families greet each other with open arms. Cab drivers held name cards and waited patiently for their fares. Friends greeted each other with a handshake or a slap on the back, but of her friend Samantha Moore, who had promised to not be late, there was no sign.

Trisha sighed. She’d learnt soon after they’d first met that ‘on time’ and ‘Samantha’ could not be mentioned in the same breath. She’d be late for her own funeral, and how she managed to run a successful modelling agency was beyond Trisha’s comprehension. She reached into her canvas shoulder bag for her cell phone but looked up when someone called her name.

A petite figure sporting spiky white-blonde short hair rushed towards her. Elbows flying, ducking and dodging bodies much bigger than her own, she resembled a demented pixie.

“Hi, you must be Trisha Watts, I’m Dee.” She grabbed the baggage cart and held up a battered photo of Trisha as if it was proof she’d met the right person. “Samantha’s been held up, she’s trying to get a new model under contract, but the girl definitely has her own ideas. Has some outrageous demands, and Samantha’s almost tearing her hair out over it. She said to take you straight to her apartment, and she’ll join you as soon as the ink is dry. Come on, this way.”

Dee’s rapid-fire chatter continued non-stop as she led the way to the waiting car. Trisha could barely get a word in edgewise and gave up in disgust. How like Samantha to have hired a doppelganger.

Dee kept up her verbal onslaught as they drove towards Calgary’s downtown core. To Trisha, one city was much like another. Too many people, too much traffic and, more often than not, too little time for her to explore anyway. In spite of her doubts, Trisha found the compact city skyline far more appealing than she’d expected it to be. An ultramodern angular building bristling with steel and glass caught her attention.

“What’s that place?” she asked.

“Our new science centre.” Dee slid the car easily into the flow of traffic heading into the city. “That’s the zoo on the left and the Bow River right here, and we’re just cutting through Chinatown. Do you like Chinese food?”

“Yes, I do. I also like Greek, Italian and Indian food too, but not necessarily in that order.” Trisha didn’t add her opinion that those foods tasted best when eaten in their countries of origin.

“Calgary’s really cosmopolitan,” Dee continued. “You’ll find all that and more here. But through Stampede, people mostly survive on breakfast fare by day and beer by night. Sometimes we even combine them.”

“Beer with breakfast?” Trisha shuddered at the thought. “You are kidding, I hope?”

“Nope, all the sausages and pancakes you could ever hope for are served up free all over the city throughout the ten days of Stampede.”

The thought of living on a combination of breakfast and beer for ten days made Trisha feel slightly nauseous. She breathed a sigh of relief when the car stopped. The engine purred like a happy cat while Dee pressed a remote control device clipped onto the visor. She hadn’t yet drawn breath as far as Trisha could tell, and the chattering continued as she unloaded the car and led the way to the elevator. Trisha followed, amazed that Samantha’s assistant was still talking.

“But you know Samantha. When I told her it wasn’t really her business, she fired me. Again. Here we are.”

Dee flung open an apartment door. Trisha followed her inside and stopped on the threshold, stunned by the stark white walls and a grey-tiled floor that shimmered like quicksilver. Sunlight poured relentlessly through the large, bare windows adding to the impression of light and space.

“Very Samantha.” Trisha trailed her hand over the back of a zebra-patterned designer sofa. She doubted it would be comfortable. A huge red velvet cushion propped at one end provided an eye-popping color contrast.

“I know.” Dee grinned at Trisha’s surprise. “Everyone has the same reaction to it. Samantha has this great interior designer. He so loved this remodel he’s featured it in loads of magazines. Your room’s down here. Has its own en-suite. Coffee machine’s in the kitchen. Or would you prefer tea? It can brew either. Oh, and wine in the fridge. Anything else you’d like?”

Trisha sat down on the end of a queen-sized bed covered in shadow-striped white linens and tried to catch up.

“Coffee, tea, wine. I think I’ve got it, thank you.” How hard could it be?

Dee wiggled her fingers as a goodbye, assured her Samantha should be with her right away and left.

Trisha didn’t even hear the door close. Peace and quiet at last, thank god, just her and her thoughts which, if she let them, pulled her down to a place she did not want to be. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. No point in dwelling on the past.

Right now, she had a contract to fulfill photographing rodeo stock and interviewing owners and riders. Where better place to do that, the editor at Equine World magazine suggested, than the Calgary Stampede? Oh, and by the way, you don’t happen to know anyone who lives there, do you?

Trisha sighed. Oh, for the days of all-expenses-paid trips. After some consideration, she’d contacted Samantha, knowing that any request she made, for accommodation or otherwise, would probably carry some caveat.

Of course, come and stay with me, Samantha had cooed. You can help me choose pictures of cowboys for the agency. There will be lots of hot cowboys.

Trisha almost smiled at the memory. Having been a photojournalist for almost a decade, she knew she had all the right credentials to help Samantha pick the most photogenic models. Yet a haze of doubt clouded her mind. She owed Samantha a favor, and a pretty big one at that. Her gut told her there would be more to it but heck, it should be a breeze. Shouldn’t it? Pick a couple of photos, for goodness’ sake, and it was done.

The image of the cowboy on the plane drifted into her mind.

“I so hope you’re not one of them,” she muttered as she lay back on the bed.

* * *

The sky could not have been bluer or the ...

Trisha’s eyes flew open. God, when would that dream stop haunting her? Her chest still felt tight with panic as she pushed herself up against the pillows and looked around. Where was she? Then she remembered. With a sigh of relief, she swung her legs off the bed, stood up and stretched the kinks out of her back as Samantha walked into the room.

“What a bitch of a day,” she complained in a voice made husky with whisky and too many late nights.

“Hello, Samantha. It’s good to see you, too.” Trisha couldn’t keep an edge of sarcasm out of her voice at the brusque greeting.

“Oh, hell.” Samantha pulled her into a rough hug. “Don’t mind me, I’m being crabby. How was your flight?”

“Took off from Heathrow, landed in Calgary. What more can I say?”

Trisha subjected herself to a thorough inspection as Samantha held her at arm’s length. “Your hair’s different since I last saw you, and when did you get so skinny?”

“It’s a girl’s prerogative to change her hairstyle and you’re a fine one to be calling me skinny,” Trisha countered. “What marvel diet are you on these days?”

“We’re not talking about me,” Samantha said. “You look like you should be in front of the camera, not behind one. Need an agent?”

Trisha’s insides flipped at the thought. “No, thank you.”

“Hmm. Pity.”

Trisha didn’t miss the speculative gleam in Samantha’s eyes and knew questions were being stored in her friend’s mental filing cabinet. At some point, she would start probing for answers that Trisha would rather not give. Just then, her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten for several hours. Samantha didn’t miss it either.

“Do you want to eat out or in?” she asked.

“Whichever’s easiest, but first, I’m having a shower.”

“Go for it.” Samantha sat on the end of the bed. “Everywhere’s going to be crazy with the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth about to start, but it’s still early enough to go shopping and get you duded up.”

Trisha stuck her head around the bathroom door. “Duded up?”

“Yep, pardner.” Samantha tried to hide her amusement behind a serious expression but failed. “From shirts and jeans to boots and a hat, you need everything cowboy. I can’t possibly take you out on the town unless you are dressed western. Please don’t tell me you’re too stuffy for that.”

Trisha snorted with unladylike laughter and closed the door.

* * *

Samantha flicked through racks packed with shirts in a variety of styles and colors. She pulled out a black, then a purple, eyelet shirt for Trisha to try on.

“Here, this purple one will bring out the green in your eyes.” She thrust the shirt at Trisha. “It has darts front and back, so should really show off your waist too.”

Running a practised glance over Trisha’s slim hips and long legs, she then selected four pairs of jeans.

“Here you are, size ridiculous in a thirty-four inch leg.” She added the jeans to the pile of shirts and pushed Trisha into a changing room. “Start trying that lot on. Here’s a pair of boots for you, and I’ll get you a hat.”

“A hat? Are you sure I need one?”

Samantha nodded her head firmly, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll go and find you a belt with a snazzy buckle too. A girl’s got to have bling.”

“What’s so great about bling,” Trisha mumbled to herself as she pulled on a pair of jeans stiff with newness, tucked the shirttail into the waistband and zipped up. She pushed the swinging doors open. “Hey Samantha, what do you think ...”

The squeak from the door hinges covered Trisha’s whispered “hell” as her footsteps faltered. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the customer at the sales counter.

That cowboy again.

She’d judged him to be at least six foot four inches tall and would know that frame anywhere. Stepping back into the changing room, she hoped he hadn’t seen her. He’d irritated her this morning with his goofy grin and smart remarks. One half of her mind never wanted to see him again. The other half juggled with whether she should take another look at him or not.

Or not would be the sensible choice.

Or not lost.

Taking a tentative step forward, she peered around the changing room door.

A fresh, crisp white shirt did nothing to hide his wide shoulders and broad back. It showed off biceps a body-builder would be proud of. His clean but well-worn blue jeans fit snugly on his hips and thighs. He looked down at something the clerk placed on the counter, and she glimpsed the straight-cut line of dark brown hair across the back of his neck.

Something the clerk said made him laugh, and at the sound of it, unexpected and unwelcome warmth swirled in her belly. What was with that? It was bad enough that she hadn’t forgotten his smoky-grey eyes, screened with thick black lashes that shouldn’t be allowed on a man.

As she watched him, he straightened up and flexed his shoulders. Her gaze tracked the play of muscles beneath the cotton fabric covering them, setting every nerve in her body aquiver. He turned his head from side to side to stretch his neck, and she glimpsed the strong line of his jaw and his firm, square chin. Right then, the hope she harbored that he might be some kind of mirage vanished.

Nope, this man was a real-life heart attack on legs. Her mouth dried in an instant, puckering as if she’d sucked on a slice of lemon.

Furious with herself for her reaction at seeing him again, she let go of the breath she held. She stumbled back into the changing room and collapsed onto the narrow, slatted seat. Built more for holding clothes than a dead weight with rubber legs, she hoped it would hold her.

This morning she never wanted to see him again. This afternoon he sent her pulse into overdrive. Somewhere between then and now, the synapses in her brain must have misfired. That could be the only reason for her ridiculous about turn from a cool, collected professional to behaving like a teenager on her first crush.

She peered out of the changing room once more. The clerk busily wrapped something while the cowboy looked on. Samantha had promised her hot cowboys, but this one sizzled like water dropped on hot coals.

Body parts she’d forgotten existed made themselves known to her in an explosive surge. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she bit down hard, wincing at the pain. She would not let this happen; would not let herself be overwhelmed by a complete stranger.

“Hey, you okay in there?”

Samantha’s voice jolted her back into the here and now, bringing Trisha to her feet. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and shook the tension from her arms. Lifting her chin a notch, she shouldered her way through the swinging doors and twirled around for Samantha’s expert opinion.

“Much, much better,” Samantha announced as she held out a white hat.

After a moment’s hesitation, Trisha settled it on her head and tucked strands of her dark brown hair behind her ears. Samantha adjusted the hat slightly before nodding with satisfaction.

“Now, step into those boots.”

Trisha stared down at the silver-trimmed, tooled black leather boots Samantha had found for her. They were gorgeous. She pulled on the right boot, the supple leather wrapping around her foot like her mother’s warm hug.

“Samantha, you’re amazing,” she exclaimed as she put her left foot into the other boot. “These fit perfectly. How do I look?”

“From where I’m standing, you look pretty damn fine.”

Both women looked up at the sound of a deep baritone voice. That such a big man could move so quietly amazed Trisha.

Samantha read her witless expression in one swift glance and agreed with him, giving Trisha a chance to regain her composure.

Mr. Heart-Attack-on-Legs gave her a smoldering grey-eyed once over, and she straightened her spine. How dare he sneak up on her?

“May I?” He reached out and adjusted the collar on her shirt, then wound a wayward strand of hair around his finger before brushing it back off her shoulder.

He scarcely touched her, yet the heat and strength of his fingers seared her skin through the thin fabric. In a whirl of confusion, she sensed tenderness in that touch, nothing like the brash casualness she’d experienced from him that morning.

Against her better judgment, she tipped her head back so she could see him more clearly from beneath the brim of her hat and then wished she hadn’t. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, and the smart reply her mind produced got lost in transit to her lips.

He aimed a slow, mind-blowing sexy smile directly at her. Her heart swelled and bumped painfully against her ribs. He tipped his hat and winked at her as he left the store.

Trisha watched him go, every breath in her body trailing after him and leaving her breathless.

Samantha, a tiny smirk of amusement twisting her lips, eyed Trisha with sly humor.

“I think that you,” she announced, “are definitely in trouble.”


Victoria Chatham

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