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.

 

Monday, October 23, 2023

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words by Victoria Chatham

 


AVAILABLE HERE


I was looking in my files for a particular photograph today and was shocked to see how many I have on my computer.

Time was, with a Canon point-and-shoot, I had to make every shot count because of the expense of having the film developed. Taking a dozen shots of the same object or view on my phone makes ensuring I get one good one easy. I also have a large plastic tub of photographs. Every winter, I intend to go through them to sort them out to create a history for my family, especially as, at some point, if I haven’t curated them, no one else likely will. In that eventuality, someone will have to dispose of them.

We started a new photograph album for a specific year or family holiday in the good old days. We missed some years because we didn’t have a camera and only splurged on the Kodak instant cameras for special occasions. Photography in my family was a bit hit-and-miss until my dad took it up as a hobby. He started with a Canon but soon added an Agfa because he became fascinated with slide photography and thought it was the better camera for that format.

On one visit to my family, my children and I decided to go out for the day on a Bank Holiday, but typically, it poured with rain. It was the perfect time to sort through my parents’ boxes and boxes of photographs and slides. We decided that if we didn’t know who was in a photograph or where it was taken, then it was discarded. With the help of a couple of bottles of wine and lots of memories and laughter, we reduced the total by two-thirds, but we came across some absolute gems.




I take a lot of photographs as part of my research for books. It doesn’t matter if it’s my historical or contemporary books. A legend board here, a costume there, a vista that I don’t want to forget. It is far easier to take a photograph and refer to it later than to write notes on the information and my impressions.

Legend board in the Lagg Distillery, Arran

Rogers Pass, Canada

Museums often permit visitors to take photographs without the use of flash photography. I recently visited the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, England and took many pictures in the Jewellery and Ceramics rooms. These were purely for my enjoyment, but I have shared some of them, too. One of the most fun museums I visited was the Costume Museum in Bath, where my daughter and I tried on a variety of hats.



Thankfully, my daughter likes to keep the old sepia family photographs, so there will be a home for those. But for the rest of them, well – they keep some memories alive for now.

How do you keep your family memories alive?


Victoria Chatham

  AT BOOKS WE LOVE

 ON FACEBOOK

 MY WEBSITE

 

 NB: photographs from the author's collection

Sunday, October 22, 2023

Writing outside of my comfort zone


 BWL Publishing approached me about completing a Canadian Historical Mystery, envisioned by John Wisdomkeeper, I balked. Being deeply entrenched in my current three series, I was reluctant to leave my comfort zone to take on something completely new and, well, foreign. I was unfamiliar with the Nunavut setting, and I knew almost nothing about Inuit culture or history.

Being reassured that the story would be mine, only restricted by the setting, timeframe, and two characters, all previously chosen by John, I considered the project. Little did I suspect I would start what would be a journey. 

I dug into researching the topic of Nunavut and Inuit culture. While somewhat familiar with Anishinaabe (Chippewa), Lakota (Sioux), and Navajo cultures, I found Inuit culture totally foreign to me. I told a friend it felt like I was writing in a foreign language about a place far beyond my travel experience. 

The deeper I dug, I realized that the Inuit had been nomadic, hunting caribou and seal, and fishing when possible. Even today, their life is challenging, living in far northern Canada near the Arctic Circle with a culture and lifestyle far different from southern Canada or the U.S. Issues I wove into the story.

While Inuit life is often austere, the time chosen by John, 1999, was a period of hopefulness. Nunavut had just been created from Northwest Territories. At that time, the Inuit had a new homeland, governed by themselves, and with leaders prepared to deal with uniquely Inuit issues.

Armed with that background, I forged ahead, writing a mystery around a young Inuit college student returning to Iqaluit (formerly Frobisher Bay, a city established as a U.S. air base during WW2), the Nunavut capital city, at the request of the grandfather who'd raised him since childhood. Christopher Pokaik led me through an adventure of discovery, both of his life, and of the place where a young man of mixed blood tries to determine where he will be happy. One reviewer told me he found it an interesting, insightful, and engaging "coming of age" story. While learning about Inuit culture, the reviewer was drawn into the story of Christopher trying to find himself and his future, while coming to grips with the murder of his grandfather.

It was a journey of discovery for me as well. It took a few weeks of writing before Christopher began speaking to me. I think that's an Inuit trait, warming slowly to strangers. Once we were speaking, he told me his story. He felt frustration, ambition, uncertainty, and emptiness. I felt them all with him as together we traveled across Baffin Island and time.

I hope you enjoy Christopher's story as much as the reviewers have.

Hovey, Dean - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.net)




Saturday, October 21, 2023

A tender moment between illicit lovers, Outcast Artist in Bretagne, by Diane Scott Lewis

 


To purchase, please click HERE

I hope you enjoy this intimate moment between my characters, after last month's turmoil when August caught Norah with forging material. This scene takes place prior to that. An unlikely romance during WWII.

August kissed Norah’s naked shoulder, her skin warm after their lovemaking. Her lithe body felt natural against his in their mutual musky scent. Crickets chirped through the open window where a slight breeze filtered around blackout curtains, into the dark room of the gardener’s cottage. The moonlight outlined them both. “I love you, mon amour.”

“I love you…so much. And this is nicer on a mattress,” she murmured, her back to him as they snuggled under the sheets on the iron bed.

“You seemed a little agitated earlier; is something wrong?”

She turned and touched his face. “I’m fine now. Can I ask where you got that huge scar on your right side?”

“I was shot seven years ago, trying to warn friends.” He really didn’t want to go into the details, the pain, at this moment. But he was naked, like she was, to be explored in all his flaws. He shoved away those ugly memories, brushed his lips over hers, then traced his fingers down her silky, soft back. “I’ll tell you more later. In the morning, we’ll plan our picnic, and you can meet my stallion, Maler. He might like his picture drawn, then painted.”

“Another handsome portrait. I’d be happy to.” She reached up and ruffled his hair. “Even in the shadows, I like your hair mussed up.”

He smiled. “No military strictness?” Wouldn’t it be ‘freeing’ to not have to wear that uniform each day, which wrapped him in the menace of the Wehrmacht?

She nestled her head on his chest. “My cousin’s husband might ask me to leave their home.”

“Why? What has happened?” His mind immediately went to the rumor of a forger, an inquiry he’d yet to begin.

“He thinks…I’ve been there too long already.” She sounded evasive. Or he read too much into it.

“Is it as straightforward as that?” Here was the source of her anxiety. A shame to have to discuss these things after they’d shared such sweet passion tonight. He did need to find out what she knew. “Is it because you are with me?”

She sighed and ran her fingers down his abdomen. “That’s part of it. I was wondering, though you might object, if I could move in here.”



August closed his eyes, enjoying her touch, but now these other problems pushed in. “You’d be alone, though I could come most nights; unless I leave for inspections. Let me think about it.” He could throttle the damn butcher. He wanted to recapture that languid, satisfied feeling he’d just had. 

“You could provide me with a pistol, for protection,” she whispered.

He grasped her wandering hand. “That is dangerous, too.” Non-Germans weren’t allowed weapons, for obvious reasons. “I would worry about you out here.” But where else could she go? Anywhere close by, without her family, she’d be open to worse scrutiny and hazard.

She kissed his chest, her mouth warm on his skin. “I know how to fire a gun.”

“I’m not surprised.” He pulled her against him and kissed her firmly on the lips. “We should sleep, then talk about this soon. I’ll think of a solution.” Another, more personal question niggled at him. He hated to continue to dishonor her when he felt this intensely about her. He let the question slip out. “Norah, would you marry me? Though as a German officer I might be a threat to you and your people for a short time more."

She breathed in slowly. A few minutes of quiet. “As difficult…yes, I would. We’ll go to Switzerland, you said. You can retire next year?”

“That is my intention.” As soon as he could take his son with them—after graduation—away from the Nazis, and count on his daughters being protected by their husbands.

He kissed the top of her head as he hugged her, holding on to his dream, making it real. He needed her love, though other troubles such as the direction of the war, and the business with the U-boat, kept him from any true peace. But negotiating life was always a challenge. She couldn’t be involved in the clandestine activities in the village—he must believe that. Yet Schmidt was certain to cause problems.

August closed his eyes, trying to drag himself into oblivion. He knew his family wouldn’t be thrilled when he married an Englishwoman. One thirteen years younger, and his mistress. But his love blurred all these battles.

He rested his cheek on her lush, fragrant hair as she snuggled against him. Her name was whispered in the allegations. The picnic—he swallowed a groan; he must question her then.


Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund. 







Friday, October 20, 2023

Let's be positive for a change...by Sheila Claydon



I always try to find a link to one of my books when I blog, but this time it is a very weak one! In Remembering Rose (Book 1 of Mapleby Memories) Rachel's one hospital visit to see her grandmother is a very small part of the story. Hospital visits this month, however, are a much bigger part of my and my husband's story. There is also a slight resemblance in that, like hers, they were far from dispiriting.  Most importantly, however, I am writing this piece as a counterpoint to the almost daily negative Press coverage of the UK's National Health Service (NHS). 

My husband, aged 82, has been an avid and very good tennis player for 70+ years.The downside of this  was that he needed a new hip. He wasn't desperate because, with a painkiller, he could still play, and as all his team mates are over 70 these days it was never going to be so physically challenging that he could no longer cope.  He did, however, make a doctor's appointment on the advice of his physiotherapist, who told him the sooner the better while he still had the necessary musculature to help him with his recovery. 

Within a month of that first doctor's appointment he had had the operation and was home. He was operated on only12 days after seeing the surgeon. No 2 year wait, no 7.5 million waiting list, no traumatic tales of delays and less than optimum care. Everything ran like clockwork. The aids and adaptations necessary for his recovery were delivered at the promised time, the nurses, doctors and ward orderlies were all cheerful, caring and dedicated. Nothing was too much trouble and when he attended the occupational therapy clinic to prepare him, he was introduced to other patients waiting for the same operation.  

He was actually playing tennis when I received the call saying he was booked in for 3 days hence so had to attend a pre-operative check later that afternoon. 

We had to be at the hospital at 7.30 on a Sunday morning (yes, some of our medics do work weekends despite what the media says) and by the time I visited that evening he was in bed recovering, and although hooked up to various machines, had eaten a good meal and was very cheerful. The next day he was up and dressed and doing the mandatory physio and the day after that he was home! District nurses turned up when they said they would to tend the wound and remove the sutures, the GP pharmacy sorted out his meds and made arrangements for a post operative check, and now, only 3 weeks later, he's walking unaided up to a mile at a time and no longer needs any special care.

Much of his recovery is down to his general good health and strong muscles of course, so not everyone will be so lucky, but many will be. One of the two lovely surgeons who operated told him that hip replacement is one of her favourite jobs as it gives people their life back, and she is right. And what is even more important is that all of this excellent care was free, including all the the aids and medication. We were prepared to pay privately if, as the daily news seemed to convey, he was going to have to wait years, but when he suggested this to his doctor, he dismissed it, saying let's test the NHS first as I don't think that will be necessary.

There are similar tales. One friend has just had a stent inserted following a mild heart attack. Another is waiting for a new heart valve and has been told she will probably have it done by the end of the month. Another has been given a 3-year open appointment with his surgeon in case the 'wait and watch' treatment he is receiving breaks down and he needs more urgent care. And these are in different hospitals in different parts of the country, so it's not just special where we live. And to top it all, we have just been booked into a local pharmacy for our booster Covid and Flu vaccines. All free. All without any angst or waiting. 

We feel very blessed and we also wish that just once in a while the British Press would report some of these positives instead of making the UK, and especially the NHS, look as if it is going to hell in a handcart. It isn't! 

On a lighter note, here is the short extract of Rachel's hospital visit in Remembering Rose, where her nonagenarian grandma is playing her part as a link between Rachel and Rose, Rachel's long dead great-great-grandmother, who has breeched the boundaries of time itself to stop her great-great-granddaughter making the biggest mistake of her life.

    Grandma was as pale as the pillow behind her head and Ma didn't look much better. They smiled when Daniel and I walked up to the bed though. Ma with relief and Grandma with satisfaction.
    "Rose said you'd both come," she told me, and then closed her eyes.
    I shrugged when Ma raised her eyebrows, and for once I wasn't lying. I had no idea what Rose had told Grandma. I didn't find out for ages either because she wasn't talking. Ma looked at her inert figure in consternation.
    "She seems to have worn herself out calling for you."
    I took hold of one of Grandma's hands. It was warm and I felt a faint pressure as her fingers curled in mine. She wasn't asleep, she was just binding her time. I settled down to wait.
    Ma stayed in the chair opposite and Daniel set off in search of coffee. When he returned with three cardboard cups of questionable liquid he suggested Ma take a break once she had finished hers. "I passed the hospital canteen on my way back to the ward and the lunch smells good," he said.
    I saw my chance. "Why don't you both go? You haven't had a thing since early this morning Daniel, and Ma would probably appreciate the company. I'll be fine here with Grandma until you get back."
    They both looked doubtful, Daniel because he had seen how panicked I was earlier, and Ma because she was worried. "I wish we had never shown her a single photo, let alone tried to persuade her to remember the past. She's done nothing but talk about Granny Rose ever since she saw that picture of her. On her worst days she even confuses her with you, Rachel, so who knows what she'll say when she wakes up and sees you next to the bed."
    I aimed for a suitably understanding expression as I nodded my agreement because I knew that if I didn't Ma wouldn't leave me on my own with Grandma."It's only because I look a bit like Rose," I said, as I wondered how long it would be before Ma and Daniel totally trusted my sanity again. Then I remembered all the times I had seen Rose and spoken to her and I didn't blame them because I wasn't entirely sure how sane I was myself anymore.
    "I suppose so," Ma looked doubtful. She didn't demur when Daniel asked her a second time though. Draining her coffee cup, she stood up and stretched. Then she picked up the large tote bag she carries with her everywhere and followed him out of the ward. Left to my own devices but aware that we didn't have that much time, I squeezed Grandma's hand.
    "You can open your eyes now because they've gone."
    She peered at me through two slits. I laughed. "Did Rose put you up to this?"
    "Rose wanted Daniel, too."
    "You mean she wanted me to realise how much I need Daniel and this was the only way she could arrange it. I suppose she was the one who made me forget to switch on my cell phone this morning too." I was getting better at reading Rose's mind by the minute. I was also beginning to have an inkling about what she was up to.
    Grandma nodded. "She made me promise."
    I frowned. "Well, from now on you can tell her to leave you out of it. If she wants to talk to me she knows where I live."
    But Grandma was too intent on relaying the rest of her message to listen. "Daniel is a good man."
    "I know he is, and so was Arthur. Tell Rose I know she loved Arthur. Tell her I understand."

* * *

    

Thursday, October 19, 2023

Time for Redemption by Helen Henderson

 


Fire and Amulet by Helen Henderson
Click the title for purchase information

Reaching the landmark 70,000 words on a work-in-progress is always exciting...and terrifying. It means there are only a few more scenes (or more likely a few more chapters) to write. Then comes the really hard part, developing the cover concept, writing the blurb, and scheduling the book launch events. I don't have to work on the last part until after the new year., but the covers and blurb need to be done sooner than later so that I have some ideas ready to work on when the story is under the tender care of my proofreader.

The components for the cover for the first book in the series were relatively easy. Find a suitable image of a dragon of the correct color and a jewel worthy of being called a dragon tearstone.  

In his true form, Trelleir is rust-colored. When you peer into his dark red eyes, the irises can appear to have flames in them. He wears his dark hair with red highlights, short. Trelleir is slender and tall for a human. But still manages to present the image of a bookworm, someone who is not a threat. He is so striking he is pictured on the cover of Fire and Amulet.

But what about Fire and Redemption? Although Trelleir appears in the sequel, his role is more secondary. So, having him on the cover would not really work. And it might make the two covers too similar and confusing to the reader.

After I type "The End," I need to do more hunting through a graphics database to find images suitable for the fantasy.  Among the items I'll be looking for are an iridescent blue-green dragon and a gypsy wagon.


Note, no dragons were harmed in the
taking of this image. And yes, it is a dragon.
Just not a winged one.


Oh, another possibility for the cover design, but more difficult to find that is free of copyright restrictions is the setting I'm currently living in with Brial and Karst, and Deneas and Trelleir -- the tombs and temples carved out of rock at the world archaeological site, Petra.


To purchase the Fire and AmuletBWL

 ~Until next month, stay safe and read.   Helen

Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky who have adopted her as one the pack. Find out more about her and her novels on her BWL author page.








Tuesday, October 17, 2023

Just one more Joy of Aging by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor Aging #Joy




 Lately, I've had no incidents when people questioned my age and my ability to be independent. Then my granddaughter reminded me of an incident from a few months ago when I left the hospital and went to a rehab center for a few days.

She went to the nurse's desk to ask a question and suddenly found herself being asked questions about her grandmother. She told them to go ask Gran. The nurse smiled. "You're ehre so you can answer. We wouldn't want to confuse your grandmother."

My granddaughter answered as best as she could since there are things she doesn't know. The nurse assurred ehr she would come and find the answers from me if they were needed. She never came and she never asked me any questions.

So once again, there are unanswered questions. The only good thing was that I was able toleave rehab almost a week before they predicted I should stay.

What these Joy of Aging posts have shown me is what I'll write about next. Actually, I have four projects waiting. One is to finish Keltoi,the last installment of the Moon Rising series. I may have to publish it on my own but that's all right.

There is a new, I'm not sure if it's a series since there are only two mysteries that have appeared in my thoughts. The heroine is Valentina Hartly and she thinks with her name she should write a romance. She attends a session put on by published authors and as she's leaving, she stumbles over a body. She learns this is the Horror Writer who had been coming to be one of the speakers. A second idea for this heroine involves stolen snuff boxes.

The third idea involves a nurse practitioner who specializes in the aging population. She has joined the practice of two young, handsome doctors. Suddenly, the elderly start dying and she begins to suspect one or both of her partners. She lives with three friends, who are also nurses with different specialties.

The fourth thing on my plate is something I found in my files. The outline for a Regency novel. "Silks is the second book in the series that began with Gemstones. Who knows why I was diverted from writing this back then. Most likely, I had a dozen other books wanting to  be told.

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Monday, October 16, 2023

How to get lost in Toronto, by J.C. Kavanagh

 

Audio book cover of the award-winning YA novel, The Twisted Climb

Last month, I wrote about transitioning from being a country gal to acclimatizing to life in a bustling city. Though we're living on our sailboat till the end of the month, we spend a wee bit of time in our rental condo. It's located in the heart of Toronto, and I mean the 'heart' of downtown Toronto: between the CN Tower; Rogers Centre (think Blue Jays); Ripley's Aquarium; Union Station; Harbourfront, and the Scotiabank Arena (Toronto Maple Leafs - NHL hockey) and Raptors (NBA basketball). This is the view from the 45th floor of our unit.

CN Tower, soaring 555.3 metres (1,815.3 feet)
It is the tallest free-standing tower in the Western Hemisphere and the 10th tallest in the world.

Roundhouse Park (surrounding the Canadian flag and home to the Toronto Railway Museum),
Ripley's Aquarium at the base of the CN Tower,
Rogers Centre (with retractable dome), and upper left, the Western Gap of Lake Ontario.

As a country gal, I know the time of day by the position of the sun. It also helps me determine which direction I'm travelling. Not so much in downtown Toronto. When I'm walking the street (and gawking like a tourist), I know it's daytime because there's a brightness, but I don't know the time of day because the sun is hidden by the multitude of tall buildings. Hundreds of them. To make it worse, I can't tell if I'm heading north, south, east or west. I know Yonge Street aligns north and south. 

That's it. 

When I exit a subway station, all sense of direction is lost. Should I turn left, or right? Where's the sun? Where's the CN Tower? Everyone is walking with purpose. And me, I have no idea how to get 'home.'

Yup, I'm a country hick. Living in a rural setting for almost 40 years will do that. Don't get me wrong - I was happy to live in the fresh air, know all my neighbours, know every migrating bird that came to my bird feeder, observe the millions of stars in the milky way, and even know the smelly difference between cow and horse manure.

The sights and smells in Toronto are quite different (insert UNDERSTATEMENT here :) So if you want to know how to get lost in Toronto, just step out of the subway station, or a store, or even an underground parking lot. Gets me every time.

However, if you want to get lost in an exciting, action-packed story, just pick up The Twisted Climb series, available by request at your favourite bookstore, or online here:  https://www.bookswelove.net/kavanagh-j-c/  Don't forget - the audio version of Book 1 in the series, The Twisted Climb, is now available!

Stay safe everyone and remember to tell those you love that you love them :)


J.C. Kavanagh, author of
The Twisted Climb - A Bright Darkness (Book 3)
and
The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) voted BEST Young Adult Book 2018, Critters Readers Poll and Best YA Book FINALIST at The Word Guild, Canada
AND
The Twisted Climb,
voted BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers Poll
Voted Best Local Author, Simcoe County, Ontario, 2021
Novels for teens, young adults and adults young at heart
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
www.amazon.com/author/jckavanagh
Twitter @JCKavanagh1 (Author J.C. Kavanagh)
Instagram @authorjckavanagh

Friday, October 13, 2023

Why Salem?

 In our research for our upcoming Canadian Mystery Spectral Evidence, co-writer Jude Pittman and I faced a confounding question:


Why did the witch hunt hysteria of 1692 take over Salem and the New England colonies and not their neighbors and trading partners in Newfoundland?




Newfoundland of the seventeenth century a multicultural society of indentured servants, planters (year-round settlers), merchants and their servants (some of whom were enslaved Africans) and seasonal fisherfolk from England's west country, Ireland, France the Basque region of Spain, and the Netherlands. Joining them were the Mi'kmaq and Beothuk people who had been living on Newfoundland for hundreds of years. All of these cultures had traditions of witchcraft.

Seventeenth century New England was dominated by a society of puritans. Their religion dominated government, ministry, education. The "other" was suspect, whether it be Quakers or Catholics, another country of origin, or another culture. Both Native Americans and the French were looked upon as "devils," especially after devastating raids that were the result of English incursions into lands claimed by the French or Wabanacki Confederacy.



Mix this with territorial disputes among neighbors, children suffering from the trauma of warfare violence, a bad harvest's hunger. The match was lit for neighbors accusing neighbors of witchcraft. Spectral evidence (actions and torments only the accusers could see) was used to hang devout grandmothers, homeless women, neighboring farmers, even one of Salem's former ministers. The accused included a four year old child.

Only when the governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony's wife was accused, did the fever that was the Salem Witch hunt break. 

Why Salem? It's a question that's been asked ever since. Jude and I hope to contribute to the debate in our storytelling. 

Thursday, October 12, 2023

Hosting a Book Launch Party

 



Last month I held my first in-person book launch in 4 1/2 years. Fifty people gathered in The Treehouse at cSpace, which is located in Calgary's former King Edward Junior High School. I had toured the renovated building when cSpace opened in 2017 as an arts and community hub and fell in love with the Treehouse meeting room. Its top floor setting, three walls of windows, and outside deck offer panoramic views of the city. On September 21st the weather was perfect for an evening event.      

View from the Treehouse deck

Prior to the launch, I often wondered if the effort was worth it. After I settled on the venue and date, the first step was sending out invitations. I created a Facebook Event page, invited my Facebook friends who live in Calgary, and kept the page active with comments to stimulate interest and discussion. In one comment I talked about cSpace and urged people to come to the launch to see what this unique building is like. In addition to numerous artist studios, cSpace houses community groups for seniors, indigenous peoples, writers, and those interested in speaking French. 

 
cSpace: The Treehouse is the top floor of the extension on the left-hand side

For friends not on Facebook, I created an invitation, which I emailed to each person. I started out wondering if anyone would come. But eventually enough people said "yes" that I realized I'd get a good crowd. Then new worries set in. Would they enjoy themselves and be glad they came?

During the week before the event, I purchased wine, juice, and snack food: cheese, crackers, vegetables and dip, and desserts.  

I developed a PowerPoint presentation, which focused on Calgary locations that inspired my story. I combined these with readings from the novel interspersed through the presentation. My first reading featured my protagonist Paula Savard in her office in Inglewood, Calgary's oldest suburb. In my mind, Paula works in this four-story brick building on Inglewood's main street. My added touch: the building is rumoured to be haunted.   
 
At this point in the presentation, I discuss my research visit to Calgary Police Headquarters-Westwinds  

For fun, at the end of my talk, I added a trivia quiz. Since the novel takes place in spring 2020 during the first COVID-19 lockdown, the ten trivia questions all related to COVID-19. I took my questions from the COVID timeline that I'd made for the novel to remind me of what was happening in the world on the story's dates. To test your memory, here are my first two trivia questions:
  • On what date did WHO (World Health Organization) declare COVID-19 a pandemic? Month, day, year required.
  • Shortly after this declaration, what celebrity couple announced in Australia they'd tested positive for COVID-19?   
The questions turned out to be too hard. The winner only got three right and received her prizes, which were priceless during the lockdown: hand sanitizer and a roll of toilet paper. 

I wrapped up the presentation with random draw prizes: two mystery puzzle books and two sets of playing cards because a character in the novel has a gambling addiction that affects the plot. 



Then everyone gathered for conversation, wine, food and drink. I signed books and talked with as many guests as I could. From the buzz in the room and comments afterward, I think people enjoyed the event. 

Was the work and strain I put into launch preparations worth it? I don't know. It's fun to to host a party to celebrate something good in life and now I have these wonderful pictures with friends who made the effort to attend and cheer on my writing. 

 





 

          
 

Wednesday, October 11, 2023

The Forgotten Romanov by Karla Stover

 



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The Forgotten Romanov

    When my great-grandmother was expecting my grandmother, she told her two older daughters that if it was a girl, they could name the new baby. It was and she was named Zenaida after Zenaida Yusupov, one of Russia's most beautiful princesses. Thus began my life-long fascination with Romanov history. And let me just add that most of my family, including this great-grandmother came from Cornwall but my DNA test does show a trace of Russian blood. 

    Over the years I have amassed a large collection of histories and memoirs about Russia and the Romanovs so I was thrilled when, in 1990, I learned about a book called The Grand Dukes by Prince David Chavchavadze. (His mother was Princess Nina Georgiyevna Romanov.) I could go on about his family, but suffice it to say, I couldn't find the book here and since phone numbers were easy to find back then, I looked his up and called him. The prince was charming and offered to send me a book. I said I'd send a check, and I now have an autographed copy addressed to me.

    Over many years of reading, I've come to the conclusion that there isn't much to distinguish one Grand Duke from another with the exception of Nicholas Konstantinovich who may or may not have been insane but who was definitely interesting.

   Nicholas was born in 1850. As a young man he wrote a poem so risque that it offended his tutor and the fellow quit. Nevertheless, the Grand Duke was considered a "gifted military officer,  a competent engineer and irrigator, good musician, brilliant scholar, and a patron of the arts." His downfall was said to be an obsession with sex. In fact, Nicholas's doctor warned him that his overindulgence might lead to insanity. After countless numbers of forgettable conquests came and went, in 1872 Nicholas met the American woman Hattie Blackford but who, in Europe, went by the name, Fannie Lear.

It happened during a masquerade at St Petersburg's Mariinsky Theater. She was a piquant blonde with a good brain, he a twenty-two year old man who stood 6 feet tall and who had a dimpled chin and "full, sensual red lips." What started as a fling became, naturally, an obsession, not to mention a headache for his family. So, Nicholas was sent away on a military expedition. Existing correspondence shows the intensity of their feelings for each other and as soon as he returned, the Grand Duke and Fannie, by then his "fiancee", took off on a European journey during which time they attempted to marry. However, Nicholas's father showed up and foiled their attempt. Nevertheless, during their sojourn, the infatuated young man spent enormous sums of money on her. "Grand Dukes and Duchesses had their own private incomes: at their births, their parents traditionally invested a certain amount in securities with the earned interest replenishing the personal capital of the royal offspring. In addition, they were given significant sums for their private expenses. Unfortunately, this wasn't enough for the spendthrift Nicholas. Once he was home, and using his teeth, he extracted (good pun, huh) and pawned three large diamonds from his mother's icon of the Virgin Mary. An investigation ensued. Though the Grand Duke had his best friend, Count Verpochovsky pawn the diamonds and swore on the Bible that he was innocent, the truth came out. And through it all, "he remained in a disgustingly good mood," his father Konstantin Nikolayevich wrote in a journal, adding, “No remorse, no confession, except when denial was no longer possible, and even then you had to pull it out of him." 
    
    Nicholas's mother had already been declared insane, the result of her holding endless seances. Thus, when a group of doctors met, it was easy to claim the Grand Duke suffered from some sort of inherited insanity. Hearing this, Nicholas said, no doubt cheerfully, "I am not to blame, it is in my blood." The Tsar took charge and banished the Grand Duke. At first he roamed around, living in 10 different places, including Samara, Crimea, Vladimir province, Uman (near Kiev), near Vinnitsa in Podol province, then Orenburg." He eventually settled and lived for many years under supervision in Tashkent where Russian officials felt he wasn't quite sane. His younger brother, Grand Duke Constantine felt the same way. During a visit he said the first day Nicholas was fine but by the third day he was decidedly peculiar. Whether insane or not, Grand Duke Nicolas built a theater and an aqueduct, worked on irrigation projects and raised cotton. He was an honorary member of the Imperial Russian Geographical Society and wrote research papers on Central Asia. He married the daughter of a police prefect and had two children. In 1918 he was either murdered by the Bolsheviks or died of starvation.

    Meanwhile, back in St. Petersburg, during the diamonds theft, Fanny managed to stash her ill-gotten gains and her lover's "incriminating letters" at the American Legation before being arrested. The crown bought the letters and kicked her out of the country. The memoir she wrote, first in English and later French became an instant bestseller. Fanny spent the rest of her life in European high society, and remained a prominent figure throughout the 1870s and 1880s. According to the Evansville Journal, she died sometime around 1900 in London having spent all her money.

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