Hello, Fire Enthusiasts. I thank you so much for the
well-wishes as I’ve dealt with my allergy flare-up. Your encouragement really
helped. Thankfully, this has been a pretty mild case this year. I feel good and
haven’t missed any work, although I sound terrible on occasion, constantly
clearing my throat or choking on the dreaded post-nasal drip. I’m making all of
the sound effects as I type this to you, but thought I would leave out the
graphic details – unlike last week. *grins*
Speaking of the dreaded day job, I hope you’ll forgive
my colorful language, but it’s been kicking my ass. The hours are a solid 11
now of triage-like conditions. You wouldn’t have thought that possible with
processing and packaging raisins, but it’s true (And I certainly mean no
disrespect for those in the medical community). On top of the hustle and bustle,
there are lots of Saturdays sprinkled in for good measure.
Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about the day job.
Believe me! It’s the last frigging thing I want to talk about. All I will tell
you is I can no longer function on 20% power when I get home, especially as the
week nears its end. My inbox is full of blog posts, Facebook or Goodreads Event
invitations, etc. I’m just so exhausted now that all I can do is sort through
them daily, process the ones that need immediate attention and then hope to
deal with the rest on the weekend. What weekend there is, of course! My cough
has kept me off the treadmill as well – something I’m not very happy about.
I have managed to continue work on my newest WIP. I
have completed another draft and I like where it stands. I’m starting an edit
now as I prepare to hand it off to betas. I am still looking for a beta or two,
if anyone might be available. Speaking of that, I’ll leave you now with another
teaser from the forthcoming paranormal, Ghosts:
We were up early that next day and were already in the
tiny breakfast nook area of the hotel when Anne Bircher came walking in and
rocked my already fragile world. Ray saw her first.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, and it couldn’t have been
more appropriate.
I looked over my shoulder in the general direction of
Ray’s gaze and suddenly lost my appetite. Neither one of us said another word.
She stood five foot six in her brown heels and green skirt and matching blouse.
A long gold necklace hung at the middle of her chest. She sported a short
hairdo which perfectly accentuated her face and neck. It framed her well, as if
the lovely woman needed any further framing, but we stared at her as if she
were the only woman left in the world.
She was the spitting image of Angie.
Ray turned to me, but offered no words. I saw him
struggle, and simply touched his arm with my hand. I was engaged in my own
struggle. Not only did I no longer feel like eating, but no longer felt like
visiting Salinas, California, either. It was uncanny what I felt then. It was
as if someone had just ripped off an enormous scab which I had taken great
pains in maintaining, which I suppose was true. I saw Ray lift his right hand
into the air and wave her over.
“Hello,” she said as she approached our table and I
blinked hard when it was Angie’s voice which greeted me.
“Miss Bircher, is it?” Ray asked, half standing.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Good to meet you,” he said. I vaguely saw him extend
his hand across the table. I just stared at my plate. “I’m Ray and this is my
brother Paul. Please have a seat.” There was a tiny, well-manicured hand in my
space then. I took it, gave it the customary shake, but hardly made eye contact
with her. And I certainly didn’t stand up. I merely pretended that my
half-finished plate of brunch was the greatest food in the world and that I
hadn’t eaten in days.
“It’s great meeting you both on such short notice and
on a Sunday,” the woman said. “This really works out for me and my schedule. I
hope this has worked out for you both as well. I would hate to think that I
twisted your arms somehow.” She seemed genuinely sweet, but I was having a
terrible time hearing the woman Anne was and not the ghost that was Angie.
“No,” Ray said, taking a sip of his coffee and then
setting it back down. “Both of us were free. We came up yesterday and spent the
day on the coast.”
“Fantastic,” she said. “Very good.” She produced a
thin briefcase that she had carried in and set it down upon the table. “I have
paperwork here that we will need to get started, but otherwise everything is
ready for us to head over and have a look at the property.” The paperwork had
highlighted places where Ray and I were to sign. Lots of them.
“Excuse me,” I asked her, only briefly looking up at
her. I couldn’t yet take more than bite-sized portions of her face. “I’m still
a bit confused by this whole thing. I don’t even remember this Flora woman, and
yet I’m now part owner of her home.”
“That’s right,” Anne replied. “I have a photo of her,
if that’ll help.”
She pulled a photo she had clipped to a folder and
passed it over. I drank what little remained of my coffee and looked at the
face that I didn’t recognize. She had grey hair with streaks of the dark hair
that once had been. Whether black or brown, I couldn’t tell. She was unsmiling
and serious, as if life had mistreated her. I passed the photo to Ray.
“Everything’s all here and everything has been taken
care of,” Anne continued. “You owe no monies and there are funds to cover
future taxes, repairs, etc. All that remains is for me to show you the property
and hand you the keys, basically. Neither of you may remember your Aunt Flora,
but she remembered you.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Ray asked. We signed
everything and then headed on our way.
That wasn’t very scary, was it? See, I’m not all about
the horror. ;) I offered you this peek into my WIP in order to demonstrate the
relationships that will be developed in and amongst the very literal ghosts that
I have for you. There most definitely are scares, but there are sweet moments,
too. Now that I have whetted your appetite, I guess I’d better get back to the
editing, huh?
We’ll talk soon.
