Felicia Denise's Blog, page 91

Taking the Plunge – My First Newsletter!

I sent out my very first newsletter Tuesday! YAAY, me!

Yes, I was apprehensive about the HTML, links, and art posting correctly. I wondered if I was babbling (kind of like now), and if I was including all the pertinent information readers who chose to subscribe to my newsletter needed (and wanted) to know.

Yet, I wasn’t 100% sure I should even be sending out a newsletter.

Stop shaking your head at me. I know the value of a well-established mailing list of engaged readers/subscribers.

I understand total dependence on social networks for exposure, and engaging readers is foolhardy.

I know the readers who subscribe (and READ) an author’s newsletter/mailings are the strongest link in an author’s platform.

Still doesn’t mean I wanted to send out a newsletter.

Let’s face, we all get entirely too much email, and not all our email gets our attention. Newsletters/random mailings can be on the low end (or bottom) of the totem pole. A good morning for me is when I open my email and there’s LESS than a hundred emails waiting for me. And that’s just from one email address. No, I do not read them ALL, and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in that.

And still, I put together a newsletter. I knew I owed it to those readers who downloaded “In The Best Interest of the Child”. The feedback on the book has been amazing, and readers needed to know WHEN book two, “In The Best Interest of the Child: Mother and Daughter” would be available, as well as print versions for both books. Readers also needed to know how to enter Felicia Denise’s Twelve Days of Christmas on Twitter and Instagram. And last, but not least, readers needed to know something about me.

So, I built, tested and sent a newsletter…after saying a silent apology for adding one more piece of email to the fray.

When I opened my newsletter email this morning, it was loaded. Of course, my first thought was, “Oh great! You screwed it up and they all bounced!”

But that wasn’t the case at all.

I’d forgotten I’d asked subscribers to reply with their birth dates for my monthly birthday celebrations. But they didn’t just send their birth dates. Many of those who have responded so far, introduced themselves, told me their names AND ages and about their families, and asked questions about my book AND me.

And…I was wearing the same big, goofy grin as I read their emails that I’m wearing now.

Now I’m on a mission to provide my subscribers with a newsletter that is informative, detailed, fun, worthy of their time…and only once a month.

Feel free to come along for the ride – Newsletter signup!

I can do this!

“Free, A Novella, Part III”

“Free, A Novella”

by Felicia Denise

Part III

Lennie’s vision began to blur, but it wasn’t until a lone tear fell onto the letter that she realized she was crying. Her mind raced as she tried to get a handle on her emotions before continuing. Evidently, her aunt had written this letter the day after Lennie and the boys had ended their vacation and returned home. Obviously, Auntie had hidden her feelings quite well as Lennie never suspected a thing.

And the two sisters had talked about this. Lennie’s jaws tightened as she pictured her mother and aunt sitting around discussing her life! What gave them the right? She knew both women loved her unconditionally, but that didn’t mean they knew what was best for her. Second guessing her decisions? As though she were an errant child? Lennie fumed at the disrespect! They didn’t understand. No one did. Ranard was far from perfect, but the sacrifices she made were to build him up; to strengthen his confidence; make him worthy in his father’s eyes.

Falling back against the sofa, Lennie’s body sagged under the weight of reality. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she realized all her love, support, and efforts to help Ranard believe in himself and become a success had been an exercise in futility. While Ranard was moving up in the chemical research and development world, his self-esteem was still as low as the day they met in college. He had just grown better at masking it from everyone, except Lennie. The loving gratitude Ranard used to show Lennie, and the special times they spent together were also gone. Replaced by hurtful words, biting remarks and constant judgement whenever they were together. Ranard had become Gilbert Porter – his father – and Lennie had become his favorite target.

Laying the letter aside, Lennie stood and walked to the window. Closing her eyes, Lennie leaned her forehead against the glass. She’d had such hopes and dreams for their future together. When had it all gone so wrong? They had been so happy after they were married. Duncan had been a total surprise with Lennie finding out she was pregnant a few short weeks after their June wedding. But Ranard had been thrilled, and anxious to have his own family. He yearned to give his children the love and attention his father never gave him. However, the birth of Myron two short years later saw a different Ranard Porter. Still friendly and affable with co-workers and friends, at home, Ranard was cynical and cruel. Lennie never knew when he would verbally lash out, and was grateful his time away from home seemed to increase. Her heart broke for her boys. Duncan had only had his father’s attention until he began to walk, and Ranard had only held infant Myron a scant few times.

Looking back at the letter on the sofa, Lennie wiped the tears from her face. The people who knew her best…and loved her most, were right. They had long ago seen the things she’d refuse to admit to herself. Marrying Ranard had been a mistake. She had mistaken his devotion and gratitude for her tutoring and moral support…for love, and maybe while it wasn’t a smoldering, all-consuming love, Lennie felt they were good together. Love would come and grow with time. When Ranard, nervous but excited, knelt on one knee before Lennie in their favorite restaurant and proposed, she was over the moon. The next day, Lennie purchased a leather-bound journal and began plotting their future together.

Her family was not as excited as she had expected, but she assumed it was because they felt as though they were losing her even more than when she went off to college. Lennie knew they would share her happiness once they started planning her wedding. Her Mom and aunt would go over-board with decorations, and her dad would wear the world’s biggest grin as he walked her down the aisle.

She had only gotten a shadow of that “happy day.” And now, she knew why. Now it made sense why during the biggest event of her life, her family wore smiles that didn’t reach to their eyes.

Lennie had no idea what more her aunt could have written that would rattle her any more than she was, but steeling herself, she quickly walked to the sofa and retrieved the letter. Pacing slowly around the room…she read.

 

It is truly difficult to accept the choices of someone you love, Lennie, when you feel you know them so very well…and they make decisions that are so out of character.

I was speechless when I first saw your new home. It was so elegant and grand…and so not you. The house was far too pretentious for you. When I saw your face as Ranard walked us from room to room, boasting over the cost of the house, I knew then whose house it truly was. It also confirmed my suspicions that Ranard Porter was a foolish, impractical man, more interested in boasting and showing off than labors of love. You appeared to wince, Lennie, each time he mentioned the price of the house. He was living above his means…and yours. Two weeks later, your mother called to tell me about Ranard buying two new cars and to share her concerns for you and the boys. While he made good money, your husband was spending it faster than he was earning it. My sister and I were almost certain you were not consulted on any of his purchases. But, again Lennie, you allowed it.  You wouldn’t speak up on your own behalf, and you didn’t speak up for your children.

Lennie abruptly stopped pacing and reading. Realizing her aunt AND her parents knew her shame – jeopardizing the boys’ future by not trying to reign in Ranard’s endless spending – caused Lennie’s chest to tighten. Ranard was a foolish man, and he was getting worse, not better. But she was determined to make her marriage work. She had to.

She leaned against the desk to finish the letter.

Like your parents, Lennie, I have only wanted the best for you. When you were younger and I could assist Linda and Burt, I did. When you married Ranard, I wanted to gift you the down payment for your first home, but Burt asked me to wait. When Duncan was born, I at least wanted to start a college fund for him, but providence stopped me. After the house and the cars, and then you launching your lunchtime catering business, my mind was made up.

While you were here a few months ago with the boys…and distracted with their baths…I asked you to sign some documents, medical advanced directives. You thought you were signing on only as a backup for your mom. Forgive me, my sweet girl, but that was not the truth. The documents you signed were to add you as co-owner of all my bank accounts and property.  When my attorney, Bernard, visits you (if he hasn’t already), he will have an itemized list and inform you of the total value. He’ll arrange for you to come to his office to receive all of the information and documentation regarding my estate, and that’s when you will see the documents you signed, Lennie.

Please do not be angry with me for my deception, nor your parents. They were not aware at the time of my plans and played no part in them. I wanted to make this transition as easy as possible for you, Lennie, while insuring some stability for your children’s future.

Everything is yours, Lennie…no conditions or ultimatums. I do, however, have one request. Please consider not telling Ranard about your inheritance. I know it’s wrong of me, but this I do not apologize for. Yes, he has shown that he’s capable of making a good living, but when it comes to being a true provider, his actions prove him lacking. Like you, I want Duncan and Myron to have a bright future, money for college, and stable roots. I feel if Ranard has access to your assets, he’ll selfishly blow right through them without thought to you and the boys. I don’t want you living on “what could have been”, not when there is something I could do to avoid that.

Of course, the decision is solely yours, Lennie Penny. Your parents will not interfere. I do apologize for being too much of a coward to discuss this with you face-to-face, but the hurt and mistrust I knew I’d see in your eyes would break me.

Continue to raise those boys as you are – with excitement and enthusiasm. Show them the joys of life, and find your joy, Lennie. Re-capture YOU.

Thank you for so many years of love, fun, and friendship, my sweet girl. Thank you for making me feel needed, and thank you for giving me a reason to live life when I felt I had no reason to go on.

Be happy, Lennie. BE HAPPY.

I love you,

Auntie Di

 

Her silent tears had turned to sobs before Lennie realized the sounds she heard were coming from her. A floodgate of emotions opened, and the weight was simply too much for Lennie to bear. The letter slipped from her hands as she slid to the floor and continued to cry.

 

©Felicia Denise, 2016

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“Free, A Novella, Part II”

“Free, A Novella”

by Felicia Denise

Part II

Lennie audibly exhaled as the tension left her body and her shoulders sagged. “You two! You had me so worried there for a second. Look, I had a very special relationship with Auntie Di, and I know I was important to her, but I have no problems sharing any of what she left me with my fam-…” Linda cut her off in mid-sentence.

“Honey, you don’t understand. We’re not trying to take anything away from you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” Frowning, Lennie threw her hands up.

“And we’re back to talking in code!” Her dad held up his hand to silence them both.

“Lenore, your mom and I have some real concerns that need to be addressed.” Briefly glancing at his wife, he reached into his back pocket. “And we’re not the only ones.” He held out an envelope to her. “Your aunt wrote this about three months ago.”

Stunned, Lennie stared at the cream colored envelope in her father’s hand, but she made no move to take it from him. Standing, Burt reached down and placed the letter in Lennie’s hand. “Your mom and I will give you some privacy. When you’re ready, come join us in the kitchen.” He leaned down again, this time, kissing her on the forehead. As he stepped back, Linda rushed forward, cradling her daughter’s face in her hands.

“I love you so much, Lennie. You were always my practical child. You wouldn’t do anything unless it made sense or had a purpose. I think that’s why Diane took to you so quickly. She said you had entirely too much wisdom for a child, and had an old soul.” A single tear slid down Linda’s cheek as the faint trace of a smile formed on her lips. “I used to get mad at Diane, and accuse her of trying to take you from me.” Lennie’s eyes widened.

“Mama, you-“

“Sshh!” Linda cut her off. “I know I was being foolish. We were all so young back then. All newly married, and some of us were already parents. We didn’t know the first thing about anything…just pretending to be adults. Di was a great auntie. Babysitting you girls so Burt and I could enjoy a quiet evening at home or see a movie.”

Lennie listened intently as she wondered about all the great stories her family had shared, and realized this was the first time she had heard this particular story. Linda’s smile faded. “Then she got “the visit” from the Marine representatives. Conrad had been killed during the Battle of Khe Sanh. Di was devastated. Something in her broke that day that couldn’t be fixed. Her husband gone. No children. She mourned and went on, but sometimes, it seemed as though she was just going through the motions. Not really living, just existing.”

Her smile returned as she chuckled softly. “But then you started walking, talking and getting into everything. We were all amazed at how quickly you learned and remembered things. Diane marveled over you and thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. When I got sick out of the blue, she gladly stepped in to care for you, and even took time off from her job. After nearly a week of me laying around, your father dragged me to the doctor, and that’s how and when we found out I was pregnant with Elaine. It was a hard pregnancy. The morning sickness and fatigue lasted right up until Elaine was born. That should have been my clue that she was going to be a difficult child.” Mother and daughter shared a grin. “But that big sister mine, she stepped in like a trooper.”

“More like a tornado”, Burt quipped. Lennie giggled out loud for the first time since Diane’s attorney left.

“Burton Kelimore! You know she meant well, and she was a tremendous help to us,” Linda chided, then shushed her husband and returned her gaze to her daughter. “He’s still ticked because the man could not boil water when we got married, but by the time Elaine was born, he could prepare a simple but full meal. Di had insisted he learn, and she was the one who taught him.”

“She could have had an excellent career as a military interrogator…or perhaps a prison guard.” She glared at Burt, and couldn’t keep the smile from forming when he winked at her and grinned. “You know your sister was brutal, and an exacting taskmaster. C’mon, admit it.”

“I’ll do no such thing, Mr. Kelimore. She simply liked things done a certain way.”

“Yeah…hers!” Linda perched balled fists on her hips and truly glared at him this time. Burt knew when to give up. He began backing towards the office door.

“Aren’t I supposed to be making coffee? Yes, I am! If anyone needs me…”, and with another wink, he was gone. Lennie felt better seeing her parents do their usual banter. Her mom shook her head and smiled, still staring at the empty doorway.

“That man vexes me so.” Hearing the love in her mother’s voice for her father caused Lennie’s chest to tighten just a little. Did she sound like that when she spoke of Ranard? She knew she did not. “What I was trying to tell you is that it was during my second pregnancy that you began spending more time with your aunt. She bought you all new clothes and toys. Even combed your hair differently. She doted on you and treated you like a little china doll. Didn’t take much for my hormonal self to verbally attack her and accuse her of trying to steal my baby.” Linda smiled sadly at the memory. “Your father finally calmed me down enough to make me think clearly. Diane had already made up her mind that no one would ever replace Conrad, so she took all the love she had for him, and any children they might have had and poured it into you.”

She leaned down and hugged Lennie tightly, then mimicked Burt’s earlier gesture, kissing her forehead. “She loved you as much as your father and I do, Lenore, maybe more in some ways. As you read her words, please try not to judge her too harshly.” With that, Linda left the office to join her husband in the kitchen.

Lennie stared at the envelope, recognizing her aunt’s bold, but elegant handwriting. A sense of dread washed over her. Her parents seemed to feel this letter would upset her, and whatever it contained, they agreed with it. Giving herself a mental shake, and silently reprimanding herself for fearing the unknown, Lennie opened the envelope, removed the thick stack of stationary, and began to read.

September 17, 1993

My Dearest Lennie Penny,

Since you are reading this, I am gone. I apologize, sweet girl, for not telling you about my illness, but I felt you had enough on your plate caring for your young family and running your business. I knew you’d want to be here with me, and that just wouldn’t do.

You and the boys left here yesterday, after what was probably the best time in my life since Conrad was killed. The days at the beach, the park…the cookouts in the backyard – Lennie, I felt as though I had a real life, a full life. Linda always gave me a bad time about trying to steal her baby, and I know I was pushy at times, but I learned my boundaries and stayed within them. But these last two weeks? I selfishly allowed myself to believe you were MY daughter, and Duncan and Myron were my grandchildren. I’ve missed our times together since you married and started a new life as a wife and a mother. Thank you for agreeing to spend your vacation with me. You will never know what it meant to have you here with me. I will treasure these memories until I take my last breath.

I am so proud of the beautiful young woman you’ve grown into. I watched you with the boys, and all I could do was smile. They have the same sense of wonder and natural curiosity you had at that age, and you feed it beautifully. Duncan asked you a million questions at the petting zoo in the park, and you patiently answered each one. He watched you as you spoke, with this serious look on his face as if he was committing each and every word to memory. You are a fantastic mother, and those boys are as blessed to have you as you are them.

I just wish they had a different father. There, I said it. Your choices or decisions have never been questioned before, not by me nor your parents. You were always so pragmatic. Even if I didn’t agree, you were so confident and grounded in your decisions, I still knew you’d succeed.

But then, Ranard entered your life…and you seem to flounder for the first time in your life. My heart broke when you announced your engagement, but I still held out hope you would come to your senses and not go through with the wedding. Since the day you walked down the aisle, I’ve wondered, “Why?” I only wish I had been brave enough to ask you to your face. I’ve always wanted to know why you walked away from a promising career with endless potential to marry a man who seems to treat you like a minor accessory. You were valedictorian in a class of three thousand, Lennie! You! The world was yours for the taking! But you left it all behind for a man who called you stupid in front of your family for spilling ketchup on his shirt! The only thing that saved Ranard from getting punched in the face that day was your mother pushing Burt and me through the patio doors! We were so angry at his callous self-righteousness, but we were angry with you too, Lennie. You took his verbal abuse! You didn’t stand up for yourself. You were not the same Lennie who punched TWO older boys for teasing and touching Elaine in high school. Or the Lennie who was flat on her back with the flu for nearly a week during finals week your sophomore year of college, but walked into your computer science class with your head held high determined to take the final exam, and walked out as the only student who aced it. I didn’t see the Lenore Helena Kelimore who had mastered all ninety-six songs in the Danvers Music Academy catalog before she entered high school. In every area of your life, you had always stood out. You never tried to be the center of attention or sought the limelight, but it found you! It always found you! Your inner light shone brightly, and I believe that’s what drew people to you. You were never a vain or prideful child, but your dignity and grace were evident long before you reached your adult years. Why are you allowing this man to dim your light?

And you are allowing it, Lennie. I don’t, for one minute, believe that Ranard controls or dominates you in any way. He’s more like an unruly child acting out, and you’re the tolerant, long-suffering parent.

But that’s not what marriage is about, Lennie.

I’ve watched you both when you weren’t looking. I’ve never seen him hold your hand, or kiss or caress your cheek. I’ve never heard him compliment you, or say anything positive about you. But I held out hope. You have a reason for everything you do, so I knew there was a reason you married that man. But was it love, Lennie? As your third anniversary fast approaches, you’ve already been married longer than Conrad and me. But we had so much joy and laughter, Lennie. We were disappointed that I didn’t get pregnant before he shipped, but that did dampen our happiness one bit.

Where is your joy, Lennie? What makes you happy? And it has to be more than your children, because they will grow up and leave. I speak from experience even though I wasn’t blessed to be a mother. I shared my sister’s heartache and turmoil when you left.

I also finally shared my concerns about you with her after our vacation. I was both relieved and saddened to find out she understood, and felt the same way. Relieved because I now had someone to talk to about it – I couldn’t talk to you, Lennie. I knew you’d be angry and I didn’t want to lose you – and I was also sad because if Linda saw the problems I saw, they were real and not the overactive imagination of a nosy old woman.

I’ve always known you would be my heir. I almost told you on a couple of occasions, but I knew you’d insist that I sell everything and donate the money to some organization saving whales, or hamsters, or gophers…or whatever is all the rage at the moment. But no, I want you have what was mine. It gives me peace to know I can do this one last thing for you and the children.

However, I am not done. You’re probably fit to be tied by now. Clutching this letter with both hands, beads of perspiration forming on your forehead as you think about digging up my body to tell me about my bossy self. My sweet Lennie Penny. I hope you are sitting down, because if you are angry with me now, by the time you finish this letter, you WILL dig up my body!

 

©Felicia Denise, 2016

The Best Laid Plans #NaNoWriMo

I literally began thinking about NaNoWriMo 2016 during last year’s event, and chose the WIP I decided against for NaNoWriMo2015. I began the pantser’s version of plotting and planning right after Camp NaNoWriMo in July. Work with me here.

Outline? Check!

Synopsis? Check!

Tagline? Check!

Logline? Check!

Scene list? Oh, yeah…twenty-two scenes ready to go!

I veered just slightly off course Monday morning (October 31st) when I was pulled into service to babysit for my two-year-old grandnephew, Jordan, who was too ill to attend day care, but not too ill to wear me, the mister AND Max, the dog out! My “baby” will be twenty-five next month, so it’s been quite a while since I toddler-wrangled. I stuck to my writing schedule, with a few changes, but accomplished little else. After a few flash fevers and several hundred Kleenex, Jordan was pronounced well enough to return to day care and left Friday morning.

The one and only Jordan!

 

Peace and order restored, right? Time to kick in the afterburners and up the word count, right?

Whatever.

I’m deep into scene eleven this morning, when I noticed heroine/protagonist, Quinn Landon, sitting over in the corner…arms folded and shaking her head. I knew that wasn’t a good thing. Our exchange went something like this.

Felicia: What’s wrong, Quinn?

Quinn: It’s not right.

Felicia: What’s not right?

Quinn: That scene…and the three scenes before it.

Felicia: Do NOT start with me. YOU gave me these scenes!

Quinn: I was confused. You know how upset I was with my family.

Felicia: You were not that upset. You were jumping up and down and talking a mile a minute!

Quinn: It’s not right.

Felicia: What do you expect me to do – rewrite these scenes?

Quinn: You must.

Felicia: Not going to happen.

Quinn: It’s not right.

Felicia: Quinn, I am halfway through the scenes I prepared listening to you and your dysfunctional family. If that doesn’t get me to 50K, I will have more writing to do. I’m not re-writing anything at this point.

Quinn: It’s not right.

Felicia: Stop saying that.

Quinn: What if I stop talking altogether? What then?

Felicia: This becomes a paranormal story and you speak from the grave. George R.R. Martin has made killing off lead characters an art form.

Quinn: No! Don’t do that. I don’t want to miss out on Mason! *Swoons*

Felicia: See? Three scenes back you wanted Fletcher!

Quinn: Don’t reprimand me. I’m a woman in crisis.

Felicia: *Massive eye-roll*

Quinn: Can’t we at least discuss this?

Felicia: *Sighs* You know none of this is written in stone. You changed your name, profession, and reason for divorcing Oscar before I even wrote a word. Just keep track, and we’ll discuss it in January during the first edit, okay?

Quinn: YAY! Okay. I can do that!

Felicia: Good. Now let me get back to upping this word count.

Quinn: Um…can we discuss my name too?

Felicia: Goodbye, Quinn!

 

Who knows what this read will end up looking like? I sure don’t!

Stay tuned!

 

 

“Free, A Novella”

(I started this allegedly short story back in mid-Spring on my blog site, Nesie’s Place.  As I approached what I believed to be the third and final installment, story characters staged a mutiny! New characters were introduced and current leads had more to say. My husband had just been diagnosed with End Stage Kidney Disease, and I was in the middle of edits for my first novel, so I politely sent Lennie and company to the corner to sit quietly…and wait.

Life has quieted down…a bit…and I’ve gotten in front of “Free” enough to begin posting again with weekly updates. It will be a side companion to my NaNoWriMo project. I look forward to your comments.)

“Free, A Novella”

by Felicia Denise

Part 1

Lennie sat her suitcase near the front door. She knew she should just leave without looking back, but she could not resist one more walk through of the house that had been her home for the last twenty-four years.

She couldn’t help but smile when her gaze fell upon the large oak bannister…with the nick in one of the railings. After watching the Winter Olympics, Myron and RJ decided if the Jamaicans could bobsled, so could they. Fashioning their version of a bobsled from the box her computer paper was delivered in, her two youngest sons even donned their winter hats and mittens. For “realism” Myron proclaimed.

What would have been a few minutes of fun and a great memory, took a turn for the worst, when older brother Duncan decided just pulling each other around the patio wasn’t good enough. They needed an incline.

Lennie heard Randy’s wails and rushed into the foyer to find them all at the foot of the staircase –  Myron rubbing his head, Randy covered in blood, and Duncan looking extremely guilty.

Four hours later, after a mind-numbing visit to the ER, Lennie returned home with her troop of wannabe bobsledders. Myron had a simple bump on the head, and no concussion. RJ was the puzzle. They could not figure out how he knocked TWO of his teeth out – and a canine and a molar at that, and NOT his front teeth. Lennie was fully prepared to be arrested for child abuse, when the kindly doctor just laughed, commented on the crazy things kids do and told RJ he hoped he found the missing teeth so he didn’t miss out on a visit from the Tooth Fairy. Thank God they were his baby teeth.

Lennie chuckled softly as she ran her hand over the two small indentations where she’d found RJ’s teeth later that night, sticking out of the wood like something straight out of a horror movie.

Making her way across the foyer, Lennie walked down the three steps into the sunken living room. Despite all the wonderful memories she had of Christmas mornings, birthday parties and family get-togethers, Lennie still hated this room. If she were being honest, she had to admit she never really liked the house. He wanted THIS house. He loved the idea of the grand staircase, the cathedral ceilings and the sunken living room. Lennie wanted the ranch style home a few miles away with the pool and a second kitchen on the enclosed patio. But this was his status symbol to prove to himself…and his father…that he had ‘made it’ after only two years in research and development at the chemical company. How ironic that he had spent even less time in the home than RJ who hadn’t been born yet when they bought the house.

Walking over to the patio windows, Lennie looked out over the large backyard as if she could still see her children playing with their cousins on a summer afternoon. Lennie smirked as she watched the water shimmer across the pool. “You didn’t win that one, did you, Ranard?” He had vetoed the idea of putting in a pool, saying they were too deep in debt. Yes, they were. After buying HIS house. But six years later, business was booming for Lennie’s catering business, “Always…From Scratch!” What started as a lunchtime specialty sandwich business had grown into a full service catering business. Her background in nutrition and her killer cooking skills made her a stand out among the city’s league of caterers, and she soon became a favorite of millennials in search of healthier, but trendy menus.

At the end of the fifth year, after paying her quarterly taxes, updating her service supplies, and even giving a holiday bonus to the small team of soccer moms who doubled as prep and wait staff, Lennie had more than fifty percent of the cost of a pool. She knew financing wouldn’t be a problem. But she thought maybe it was time to dip into her nest egg.

Her Aunt Diane, her mom’s oldest sister, had passed away shortly after Lennie and Ranard’s third wedding anniversary, leaving everything she had to Lennie. Diane’s husband had been killed in Vietnam, they had no children, and she never remarried. Diane and Lennie had been close all of Lennie’s life. It was Diane who taught Lennie to play the piano. And Diane taught her the secret to a killer pound cake. Even though Lennie was shocked to find out she was Diane’s sole heir, it made sense to the rest of the family. Lennie was always Diane’s first concern.

‘Everything’ turned out to be Diane’s home, two cars, two rental properties, three hundred acres of land in San Luis Obispo, California, and an extremely generous amount of cash. After having Lennie sign all the necessary documents and arranging for her to meet him first thing the next morning to receive her new banking and tax information, Diane’s attorney left. Linda Kelimore, Lennie’s mother, sat silently fidgeting with her hemline until her husband returned from seeing the attorney out.

Burt Kelimore stood in the doorway of his home office and exchanged an uneasy glance with his wife before sighing heavily and taking a seat next to her. Lennie watched her parents, confused. “Mom? Daddy? What’s wrong? Did I miss something?” Linda grabbed her husband’s hand and squeezed as her eyes filled with tears. Lennie sat forward on the sofa and leaned towards her parents. “You’re really starting to scare me, Please, tell me what has you so upset.” Burt let go of his wife’s hand and reached for Lennie’s.

“Lenore, you know how very much we love you, and the last thing we want to do is upset you or try to tell you what to do.”

“Just say it, Daddy, please! I’m starting to freak out here!”

“Babygirl, it’s about the inheritance you just received.”

 

 

©Felicia Denise, 2016

~ ~ ~ Sunday Quote ~ ~ ~

Anais Nin 1903-1977

“In The Best Interest of the Child” by Felicia Denise #SundaySnippet

Sunday Snippet

“Forgive me if I’m being forward, Ms. Chandler, but I wanted to give you my business card. I own Bellamy’s over on Mason. If you ever need anything…um, for your car…give me a call.” She reached for the card. “Anything…at all.” The man was positively shameless. Olivia couldn’t help but grin.

“Call me Olivia, and thank you. That’s nice of you.” Glancing at the card in her hand, a realization suddenly dawned on her. “Wait. You’re that Bellamy? Bellamy Motorsports of “We have twelve locations to serve you in Hennepin and Olmstead counties?” His face took on the brightest shade of red as he blushed uncontrollably.

“Guess you’ve seen our commercials, huh?” She laughed as she backed towards her car.

“Yes. A time or two…or twelve. The commercials never mentioned you were so…hands on.” His eyes widened, but she pointed at the tow truck and continued before he could respond. “The boss answering service calls?” He slid his hands into his back pockets and cocked his head to the side.

“Okay, you got me. But Court won’t let anyone else touch his Precious. I was with him the day he bought her, but I’m not sure who owns whom? Marissa always teases him by telling him she’s leaving and he can have the house, but she’s taking the kid and the car. He nearly has a heart attack.” She reached her car and noticed Rena was still sleeping. There was no sign of Courtney at the front door yet. She heard movement behind her and noticed Bruce had taken a couple of steps in her direction.

“I didn’t see a ring. Are you married?”

“No.”

“Involved?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna be?” Olivia tried without success not to laugh.

“You’re definitely not the shy type, are you Bruce?”

“Nope. But I’m usually not this forward either.” Suddenly serious, he continued. “It’s just not every day I meet a woman I’m so drawn to. Actually, this is the first time it’s ever happened.” The sincerity in his voice caused her pulse to race.

“I’m flattered, Bruce.” He started to say something else, but both their attention was drawn to the front door as Courtney backed the wheelchair down the one step entrance, then turned and headed towards Olivia’s car.

“Olivia?” She glanced in Bruce’s direction, but looked away quickly, unable to hold his intense gaze. “Olivia?” Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. “Call me.” She smiled and gave him a single nod. His attention made her feel light-headed, but she knew she’d never call him. She couldn’t. He definitely seemed like the type of man who wanted all or nothing…and nothing was all she had.

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