Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Healing Grace book signing!!!!!

When Grace stepped off the airport shuttle on Main Street, there was a shift in her step, nothing major, but enough of a difference to know something about her was no longer the same. She'd been gone; she had left the state, the region for weeks. Was that all it took to change twenty years of marriage?

She stepped down on the crusty snow with her bags hooked to her shoulders. She breathed in, cold air slicing her lungs, and looked around the square, soaking in the four blocks of shops and offices surrounding the park. All of them were closed and dark. All except one, The Women's Clinic. She knew it wasn't the doctor in there; it'd be Rowena, his wife, filing insurance claims. Tom was most likely at home in his recliner with a beer, watching a football game.

Grace trudged through the softball diamond, her luggage weighing her down and her boots sinking into the snow. She didn't look up. She didn't have to. She knew with her eyes closed how each shop and office would look. She imagined the stuffed poodle at Carman's Cut 'n Curl dressed up with red bows and gold balls dangling from its ears, twinkiling white lights in The Bridal Boutique, not-so-fresh garland around The Men's Clothier, pin lights and gold tinsel in Patsy's Perm Palace, and nothing in her husband's window. She hadn't bothered to decorate before she left, except for the wreath she bought from a client's daughter for a school fund-raiser. It would probably be brown by now, stiff, miserable. Grace knew that when she fingered it, pine needles would shed on the porch step. One day soon, she would take the wreath down and act as if Christmas were really over. It was January, and the shops around the square didn't acknowledge the end of the holiday season until it was time to put up the Easter displays. This year it would be different at her husband's office. A lot would be different there. A lot.

She wound her way through the bare maples surrounding the gazebo. Rose bushes were clipped back to gnarly fingers, snow dusting their limbs. There were no footprints on the brick path except for the new ones Grace made. She liked stepping into virgin snow and creating her own footprints,...

This is the first page of my new novel. I'll be at Write Over Spoons, Suite 206 on the McKinney Square Saturday night, May 8th from 6-9:00, hosted by Michele S. Bernard. The first 20 people who purchase books will also receive a work of my own fiber art. Come one, come all! There will be wine, refreshments, photography, fiber art, and amazing people. This is a must do. Just go upstairs above Spoons restaurant to room 206. Lots of fun to be had by all. Look forward to seeing you! And if you're unable to make it, you can always purchase the book on amazon.

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