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Sneak Peek: The Uninvited Guest

7/18/2015

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Setup: Donna has purchased an old Victorian home with the purpose of tutning it into a Bed & Breakfast. Even before she gets the place fixed up, she discovers a well-dressed dead stranger in one of her upper rooms. The police investigate while Donna waits outside in the frigid cold along with her curious neighbors.



Chapter Three

 An errant cold breeze tugged at the ends of her hair, blowing a lock across her face as she stood beside the car looking up at the crime scene she’d transform into The Painted Lady Inn. Initially, she thought the name provocative since it could have several meanings. The exterior would sport varying hues, of lavender, pink, and blue similar to the homes she saw when she visited Savannah.

The dropping temperature and gathering clouds heralded a weather change. Perfect, exactly what she needed to make her day complete. The way her luck was running today, it would be a blizzard. Curious neighbors drifted back indoors due to a combination of falling temperature and no immediate scenes of blood and mayhem.  Only a few gawkers remained, as she noted the non-athletic ball throwing, but no good at catching father herding his prodigy into the house. Pajama pants might be good for a casual looksee, but didn’t make the long haul. A blonde in full makeup attired in a tight sweater, jeans, and stiletto heel boots kept Daniel from making his way to her side.

Her brother didn’t seem to be trying too hard to get away. His natural charm insisted he spoke to everyone he talked to him, which made it difficult to go anywhere with him. The majority of the people eager to exchange a word were women. His wife, when she accompanied her husband, could stop female traffic with a single icy look. Maria knew their initial meeting happened because of an inane question she posed. Not surprising she questioned other women’s motives.  Difficult to get the women away when her brother seldom wore his wedding band due to being construction. More than a few man lost a finger and even life when a ring caught while using power tools.  Maria accepted his explanation but didn’t like it. Donna suspected the truth had more to do with he liked the attention.

Tabor promised to retrieve her purse and coffee.  So far, nothing, which indicated an interruption in his search. A couple police officers jogged from the impromptu gab huddle on her front lawn and headed for cruisers. The whine of the siren indicated the possibility of crime somewhere else. Yep, the party’s over. A lone person attired in a parka with a trailing crocheted black muffler shuffled along the sidewalk with the help of a cane. Could possibly be out for an early morning walk since people do that even when a murder doesn’t happen in the immediate vicinity. Whoever was dressed more appropriately than the woman talking to Daniel. She kept dancing one foot, and then the other until her brother, predictably offered his jacket. A sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head. Yeah, her brother meant well, but sometimes he just didn’t get it.

Like a good sister and even better sister-in-law, she’d have to intervene before the woman invited him in for coffee and a pastry on the side.

“Looks like Delilah has located another good looking sap.”

Her indignation at her brother’s insulting summation, despite she’d mentally already done the same, heated her blood. She threw the newcomer a setup down glance, noticing the parka and the cane. The man marched right up to her, didn’t bother pretending to do something he wasn’t. Had to admire such forthright behavior.

“That’s my brother you’re talking about.” Her declaration didn’t have the desired effect on the man. No excuses, apologies, or general bluster, instead, it had no effect. He kept talking.

“Best save him now. Before she pulls him into the house and throws him out a few days later, just a shell of a man after she’s done with him.” His rusty laugh sounded more like a cough than humor, only his twinkling eyes announced he found some humor in his statement.

His words created an image of a pale Daniel with sunken eyes and beard stubble staggering out of one of the surrounding houses. His shirt would be misbuttoned and untucked. An angry Maria would be at the end of the walk casting daggers with her eyes, not at Daniel, or the floozy that lured into her home, but at her.  As the oldest, the responsible one, her parents informed her it was her job to look out for her older brother.

“No worries, he’s married.” She hoped her words would reinsure her as much as the man.

His eyebrows lifted high disappearing behind a thick wedge of white hair peeking out beneath the rim of his fur-lined parka hood. “She’s lured more than one married man inside her house. I’m not even sure she’s above using a stun gun to immobilize them when her surface attraction doesn't do the trick.”

Would the man ever shut his yap? His constant commentary annoyed her, especially when she wondered if there might be a grain of truth in any of them. The idea of her brother wandering wasn’t one she wanted to examine. It took forever for him to marry after having a buffet of potential mates thrust upon him. Her mother gave up on her early, but Daniel she had hope for grandchildren. She just wanted the man to leave her alone, but an idea occurred. The man knew the neighborhood and its occupants. Had time to spy on them if he could detail the goings-on. Might be able to get her some history on the house and even the dead guy.

She thrust out her right hand in the man’s direction. “Donna Malone, your new neighbor.” He took her hand in his glove-clad one and gave it a surprisingly firm shake.

“Herman Fremont. I see you overcame your desire to throw me off your property. Was it my sparkling repartee that did it?” His eyes danced above his drooping mustache as if he knew that his conversation didn’t entertain.

“Ah, thought it would be good to get to know my neighbors.” His snort and crossed arms demonstrated his disbelief.

“Okay, Donna Malone. You strike me as a woman of sense and determination, which should make you stick out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Nothing but frivolous females more concerned about looking good than contributing anything while on the right side of the ground. Oh and there is one bitter, old biddy who’ll sue the pants off anyone who crosses her.”

“So I heard.”  She recognized Tabor’s voice as he talked to the few remaining officers who stood nearby. He’d be here any minute ending her conversation with Herman and any chance of getting needed information. “I’d like to know more about the neighborhood and its history.”

“Uh huh.” He cut her a sly glance before continuing. He gestured to his face. “Saw all the snow on the roof and decided this old geezer probably knows a thing or two.”

Donna stretched her lips into what she hoped was a smile. Normally, she didn’t do it all that much. The fact that it felt strange and awkward meant it resembled the desired expression.    “Oh no, I noticed you were a keen student of human behavior.”

“Knock off that fake smile.  Looks more like you’re constipated and trying to pretend you aren’t. Live over that way.” He thumbed in the direction behind him. A perfect location if he had any need to spy on her house.

Her smile faded. Did she ever think the man attractive? No, never, she just wanted to stroll through his collective memories.

“Better. I like an honest female. None of this fluttering eyelashes or phony expressions. What is it you want to know?” He shoved his gloved hands in pockets, shuffled his feet, and hunched his shoulders.

Tabor would arrive in second. So much, she wanted to ask, but one question would have to do.  “Do you know who owned the house?”

His eyes rolled upward as he worked his jaw side to side, popping it once. “Hard to say, lots of people owned it, passed through hands several times. A few folks were attracted to the legend. A couple like you had hopes of making it into a B & B.”

How did he know what her plans were? She’d told the realtor who initially walked her through, who must have mentioned it to some else. The gossip train must make a regular stop at Herman Fremont’s place. Legend, there was a legend. “What legend?” Her imagination raced ahead creating romantic triangles, suicides, and consequential hauntings, and even disappearing residents. Such things could either hurt or help her business. It’d be best she knew the story too.

“Temp sure is dropping.” Herman used his gloved hands to slap at his arms. “It’s more of an urban legend, a rumor that stuck around a long time.”

She’d doubt the man would stay considering how cold he was. “I want to hear it!” The words came out more as a demand than a polite request. Still, Herman didn’t act offended.

“It was the start of the century, not this one, but the one before it. I don’t know around 1910 or 1912. Construction had started on your house. A sea captain commissioned the house for his beloved wife. He wanted to broadcast his financial success in the form of an elaborate home. People at that time didn’t live in McMansions they couldn’t afford, but manage to finance. Nope, people, had to pay cash for homes, primarily to build one. Loans existed but weren’t common to finance homes. People had a peculiar belief that you shouldn’t live in a house you couldn’t afford.”

Donna nodded her head while she fisted her hands inside her jacket pockets. What she really wanted to do was shake Herman and yell Get on with it!  No history of the home loan wasn’t wanted.

“The construction foreman had a brother. A dashing fellow who always had plenty of money, looks, and charm. The prevailing gossip was he was a jewel thief. Squired all these wealthy old broads around and their diamonds vanished. None of them would point a finger at him although most people though he helped himself as payment for his services.”

Herman stopped, punctuating the story with a large wink. “I got it.” She volunteered that she understood that the jewel thief brother doubled as a gigolo to prevent him explaining what services the jewel thief offered. Ick.

“At the time, a major crime occurred in the nearby city.”

Tabor joined them holding out the coffee cup to Donna. “It’s probably cold now. You could nuke it when you get home.”

Herman looked at the detective, then back at her, then around her, pointing. “Look there he goes!”

The three of them watched Daniel follow the blonde with more wiggle in her walk than gallons of gelatin poured into a pair of pantyhose.

“No!” The word exploded out of her mouth as she darted across the lawn.  Her hand had landed on Daniel’s arm before he reached the porch stairs. “Stop. I need you.”

The frustrated woman put both hands on her hips and glared at both of them.  Oh, the annoyed stare. Really, she thought that would work on her. Think again, sister. She stepped in front of her brother, cutting off his view of the siren, channeling her disdain into a freezing look directed toward the female. “My brother needs his jacket back too. I imagine a turn in the washer will eliminate the stink of cheap perfume.”

“Donna!”  Her brother’s use of her name reminded her once again she stepped over the line of polite behavior.

Here she thought she could run a B & B.  “Daniel,” she snapped back. “What were you doing marching into Delilah’s house?”

He blinked a couple of times. ‘Delilah, who’s Delilah?” He angled his head in the direction of the house the blonde slipped into. The front door opened and his jacket flew out. “You must mean Deidre. She had a creaky door she wanted me to look at once I explained I was in construction.”

Her brother may have missed her eye roll as she reached for his jacket. “Daniel, I love you, but how many houses have you entered to fix lonely women’s leaky faucets, stuck windows, cabinet doors that wouldn’t stay close that resulted in something extra.”

   Daniel took the offered jacket and shrugged it back on. His habitual “aw shucks grin appeared that melted some of her ire. “I’ll admit I’ve had a few run-ins with the lonely women. A few might even rate up there as succubus status, but I’m married now.”

“Exactly.”  She held her hands in front of her making a chopping motion. He got it. Finally. “That’s why you don’t check out the various household problems.”

“Alright. You don’t have to go all big sister on me. I understand, but what if she really did have a squeaky door?” He shook his head as if she were somehow the person at fault.

 Everyone in their family readily accepted that Daniel received the looks and charm. That must have been all he got because his intelligence was MIA sometimes. That or he was thinking with a different head. “If the door bothered her that much there are plenty of people she could have called to fix it. She could have used a Youtube video to fix it herself. She could have gone to the hardware store and asked for help. All perfectly accepted ways of dealing with it. So much better than allowing a total stranger into her home.”

Her brother looked chastened, which didn’t make her feel any better, but somehow her point may have sunk it. All the same, why not hammer it home.  “Maria wouldn’t like you going into a strange woman’s home.”

A huge laugh exploded not from her brother, but from Tabor, who looked both silly and precious carrying her oversized handbag. “You’d be lucky not to be bunking on the couch for the foreseeable future,” the detective added.

Daniel acknowledged the detective with a nod. “You’re right.”

Really. He basically repeated what she said, although he used different words and suddenly it’s right coming from a man’s mouth. Maybe he needed someone different to point him in the right direction. Her brother did have a tendency to tune her out after years of helpful directives. Should know better than even to offer advice since unsolicited help is not welcome. It was a habit; one she’d honed over the years.

The two men conversed as if they were old friends. Donna’s lips twisted as she considered what they had to talk about. Murder. Mayhem. Her. Their laughter indicated it might be the latter. Yay. All of her neighbors disappeared, including the informative Herman.

“Where’s the old man?”

Tabor stopped guffawing long enough to answer. “He went home complained about it being cold.”

The wind chose that moment to expel an icy gust rattling the few leaves that stubbornly wanted to cling to trees despite being dead. Leaves staying on a tree signaled the tree was dead. Rather like a ghost, sticking around and unaware it was a ghost. Maybe the two weren’t the same. Her botany information might not be totally on the level either. The tidbit came from a man she went out with once on a coffee date. The tree tidbit served as the highlight of their conversation.

Great. Now, she’d never know about the legend. Wait. She knew his name. Shouldn’t be that hard to look up his address.  At his age, he wouldn’t be the type to have an unlisted phone number. The street name she knew. All she have to do is bake some of her trademark macadamia and chocolate chip cookies and show up with a plateful. The idea had merit. Her lips went up imagining the elderly men confiding all the needed facts to catch the killer. Of course, she’d be the real hero and would merit a small blurb in the paper mentioning her inn.

“Why are you smiling?” Her brother’s question alerted her that both men’s attention switched to her.

Smiling, well, she must have done it right that time.

Tabor stared at her, his hand resting on her purse draped over his shoulder. No reason to smile, especially in a murder investigation, it gives her the appearance of being some insensitive, macabre figure. “Ah yes, well honestly, it’s you holding my purse. You look so” before she could finish he pulled the bag off his shoulder holding it away from him as if he’d discovered an open vial of smallpox inside of it.

“Don’t drop it.” She darted toward her purse, snatching it by the shoulder strap. “That wasn’t a cheap purse, even on clearance.”  Hands wrapped firmly around the strap, she hoisted it to her own shoulder. “I was only joking.”

The detective nodded, and then winked. Was that a wink? Could have been a wince with those busy eyebrows. Could be the morning sun was too much. Something flew into his eye. Didn’t mean a thing. “Am I good to go?”

“Sure. I got your number and you got mine. Give me a call.” He lifted his eyebrows a tiny bit before adding, “If you think of anything else.”

“Will do.” She nodded, before stepping close enough to her brother to elbow him. “Let’s go, Dano. We can reconvene at The Good Egg while I explain to your incredible effect on women again as if you didn’t know.”

Her brother wrapped an affectionate arm around her shoulder. “I remember the lecture. Women expect ordinary guys to be friendly, polite, and helpful. They expect handsome men to be arrogant jerks when a woman encounters a handsome, charming man like myself they go a little bit crazy.”

“Ah, spoken like a condescending jackass, there’s hope for you yet. It would help if you managed to insert the word wife in every other sentence. My wonderful wife enjoys the sound of a squeaky door. My resourceful wife can fix a leaky faucet. I can’t wait to get home to my beautiful wife every moment spent away from her is agony.”

Daniel chuckled slightly as she knew he would. He tightened his grip, then relaxed his hold. “You’re right. I’ve been single so long I haven’t got the marriage behavior down yet.”

“Hmm, I noticed, as did Maria, I’m sure.”  His truck sat close to her small SUV on the crowded street. Parking would be the first issue for her end. A discreet parking lot in the back would be a necessity. Oh yeah, what was she saying? “Oh, just assume every woman is hitting on you because 99% of the time they are.”

“Will do. Do you assume every guy is hitting on you?” He made a wry face at her.

Daniel thought he made a funny. “Good one. Of course, not. I’m not you. Rumbled over the hill into fifty-one. No man looks twice at me unless he has a heart attack.” Nope, men, didn’t go for tall, intelligent women who spoke their minds, especially if they had some mileage on the odometer.  They preferred the petite fluffy females who flattered their fragile egos. It certainly explained why her covert attempts at online dating never resulted in anything. Never mentioned it to anyone in the family since they all feared she’d die alone and be eaten by her cats.  She’d have to have cats first for that to happen.

“Donna, I know I’m the little brother and you think I’m clueless. Sometimes, you’re the clueless one.”

A snort and a vigorous shake removed his arm. “Are you out of your mind?”

He laughed. “Maybe to disagree with you might be classified as insanity. I’m a man and you aren’t. I noticed plenty of men over the years giving you the once over. Only problem was you never stared back.”

The thought made her bark with laughter. Her laugh did resemble a seal’s somewhat, instead the usual ha ha most people had, hers always sounded like har, har, har, rough and discordant to the ears.  It made her self-conscious and unable to laugh at most things she even found funny. It also firmed up her reputation as a serious, no-nonsense nurse.

“Yeah right. What is this throw your sister a bone?  I know who and what I am. Name me what man who showed significant interest in me.” Her brother’s hesitation made her suspicious. “No making up people either.”

“Donnie,” the use of his childhood name for her surprised her. “For a smart woman, you miss a great deal. As for knowing yourself, you’re overlooking a great deal. As for men, that detective who just left had more than a professional interest in you.”

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Romance in the Age of Technology

7/12/2015

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Ever wonder why some people prefer historical romances?  The complicated dance between the sexes tended to be more clear-cut.  There were societal rules for it too. Very specific rules existed, such as what behaviors were appropriate, for example the art of flirting with a fan.  Two dances with the same partner at one ball indicated extreme interest. Modern romance is an entirely new ball game, especially if you want to write about it.

Back in 1984, with the acknowledged spread of AIDS, romance writers had to decide if they wanted their heroes to don a condom during a sex scene.  Some writers firmly resisted this, claiming it wouldn’t be romantic. More than twenty years later, the male protagonist, who doesn’t don a condom, is thoughtless or the author has a pregnancy planned.

Even texting adds a new dimension to contemporary romance.  The death of a courtship can be explained in communications terms. He called every night, then he texted, but always typed I love you. His texts became infrequent, loaded with text jargon and ILY as opposed to spelling it out. Eventually, he quit texting altogether.

Michael Masters, author of TextAppeal -- For Guys! The Ultimate Texting Guide, states that the hotter a woman is, the less texting a man should do. Unnecessary texting makes a man look needy. Inappropriate texting such as in the early morning, late evening, even at work can be annoying.

With this in mind, your hero shouldn’t resort to texting unless it’s a Young Adult novel. The exception is if you want things to be cryptic or misunderstood. Then texting can be a great conflict device. Texting, like email, doesn’t reflect humor or sarcasm. It would be easy for the receiver to take it wrong. People often react depending on what mood they are in when they read the text. Want a guy to act like a jerk? Have him break off with his sweetie via text.

Sorry. It’s not working for me. This text guarantees to make almost any woman see red and consider methods of painful retribution. A decade back, the email was the tacky way to break up. It shows a lack of character not to personally talk to the person.

Over the years, men and women have found numerous ways of breaking up from dead roses delivery to faking their own death by drowning. The harsh factor is the unwillingness to face the person they claimed to love only days ago. All these breakup methods popped up in the last sixty years. Earlier in the century,  a woman or her family did  sue if she felt she’d been promised marriage only to be dumped. It was referred to as Breach of Promise suit.

This was because being a wife and mother was a woman’s occupation. Not only did she lose a job she thought she had, but also lost social standing and possibly the opportunity to marry elsewhere. The court could not force the man to marry her but usually levied a sizable fine. This made most men think very carefully before commiting. It was one of the reasons people avoided dating too much. Another reason was they married much younger and expected to stay married because their faith dictated it.

Modern romance and the predictability of failing at it added a new factor into the mix. A woman can’t overlook a divorced man as a potential sweetie. It would be easy as a writer to write a tale about a never married man who never had a sweetheart or a vengeful ex who falls for his female counterpart, but where would the conflict be?  Excluding victims of shattered relationships in a current romance would be the same as insisting gravity didn’t exist. People can identify with the woman whose guy dumped her via text message.

Even contemporary romances have changed in the last thirty years. In the earlier novels, a formula was used where the hero not only had to be taller, but older than the heroine. He had to be wealthy, handsome, and preferably foreign. The heroine was often described as being so breathtaking beautiful that the hero had never seen anyone so lovely. Ironically in the era of  PhotoShop, people prefer realistic characters. Author Lori Copeland crossed a line when she made a hero shorter than the heroine. Author Debbie Macomber broke ground when she put her hero in a wheelchair.

Even ideas about happily ever after are changing too. The old school story ended with an epilogue where the heroine is married to the hero and have a couple of adorable children. With the changing nature of relationships, current publishing houses are willing to accept a happy for right now scenario. There is no marriage, no promises to stay together forever, and apparently no need to not use those character names again.

In fact, I’ve read a series where the heroine starts the second novel by bemoaning the fact her last relationship didn’t work out. This happened to be the same novel I’d spent hours reading and rooting for the two of them to get together. Now, she’s off to a new story with a new man, and possibly his two best friends, but that’s a different blog.

What changes do you think technology has made in dating and relationships?

 

 

 

 

 

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Celebrate Freedom Blog Hop

7/1/2015

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Make sure to visit all the blog hop participants by clicking on the listed names at the bottom. Don't forget to enter the rafflecopter below.

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We recently went on vacation to San Francisco and I was amazed at all the people of different nationalities at our hotel. We were able to communicate reasonably well. Sometimes, they wanted to know what they could do that was traditionally American. It's almost too easy to say baseball, apple pire and Chevrolet. For a moment, I didn't answer as I searched my memory.

My childhood Fourth of July Celebrations were the best.My grandfather would let me help put out the flag while the rest of the family set up tables and chairs for the family get together. My uncles were in chargeof grilling meat while my cousins and I ran screaming through the yard often waving small American flags.

Later on, after consuming deviled eggs, potato salad and watermelon, we'd waited with baited breath. An older cousin would be in charge if supervising the sparklers. 

Thinking back on things I consider essentially American. I made a small slide show. Part of the celebration is sharing my all-American romance and giving away some special gifts to commenters. The Inheritance contains hope and the courage to take chances; two qualities I consider part of the American Spirit, although, they both translate across all nationalities too.
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The unexpected bounty of the house and boat happened when she most needed it. Her luck tended to run to bill payments lost in the mail, which resulted in overdue charges. Even though she inherited the house, she expected the arrival of the soft-spoken lawyer every day, explaining it had all been a mistake, the unspoken reason behind why she never removed the plastic from the furniture. Her left hand worried the stiff covering as she contemplated where she’d go. If possession was nine-tenths of the law, then she wasn’t leaving. The high-handed Levi would find out she wasn’t a pushover.

I have more right than he does. Sure, I’m not blood, but I was there when Roy needed someone.

Running a restless hand through her hair, Melody sighed deeply. It was Sunday. One of the few times, she got an actual weekend off. Her free days disappeared under errands, laundry, and a stint at the animal shelter. The physical activity of bathing and walking the animals made her feel useful. It also undid some of the stress from dealing with mortality on a daily basis. Most patients were similar to Roy and made their departures with dignity. A few considered her the angel of death and treated her with a mixture of horror and contempt, often cringing when she came near.

That’s why a pet would come in handy. A pet would greet her with enthusiasm after a long day. She even had one in mind. A tan mutt about the size of a beagle, but with the long body of a basset, would be the one. He came through the dog drop window for cowardly owners who avoided any interaction with shelter staff when they deserted their pets. Melody nicknamed the dog Charmer because he stole her heart.


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