TUESDAY TALES - QUAINT

 

Welcome to the blog where writers write to a word prompt. This week the word prompt is "quaint". I have another excerpt from my work-in-progress titled, "Someone Like You." When you finished, hop on over to read the works by the other authors. You'll find them HERE. 

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Tom opened the quaint little cookie tin, and sat it in the middle of the kitchen table. They took their usual seats at the table.

“Well,” Tom said, fiddling with his spoon trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I’m moving out, Pop,” Charlie blurted out.

He looked up, his eyes wide. “You what?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s time.”

Tom laughed. “I was going to say the same thing to you!”

“What?” Charlie stared. “What do you mean?”

“I’m selling the house and moving to Florida. I’m going to live with my sister. Helene needs help and can’t afford much. So I’m going to sell and move in with her. Doctor told me I have to stop working. Ticker trouble.” Tom avoided Charlie’s stare.

“When did all this happen?” She asked.

“Today.”

“Today? Really?”

“The doctor has been telling me to cut back. To lose weight, eat healthy, and stuff.”

“I know that.”

“He said the winter here isn’t good for me. I should move to a warmer climate.”

“That’s probably true for three-fourths of the population here,” she murmured.

“Then I spoke to Helene today. She didn’t want to call me, but she’s at the end of her rope. She can’t walk too good. She doesn’t have the money to hire help. I figured my moving down there would be good for both of us.”

“You’re going to sell the house?” Charlie asked.

“Yep. It’s paid up. I need the cash. It’s about time you lived on your own, anyway.”

Charlie burst out laughing. “That’s exactly what I was going to tell you. I’ve been saving up. I found a sublet. I'll find a new place in the fall.”

Tom wiped the sweat off his forehead. He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “That’s good news.”

“Are you sure you can get along with Helene?” Charlie asked.

“She’s not quite so high and mighty now she needs help,” he said with a chuckle. “I ain’t leavin’ you with nothin’. I savin' a bit from what you made and put it in a safe place.It’s grown. So you’ll have a nestegg to get you started.”

Charlie’s eyes watered. “You did that?”

“I knew you’d need your own money someday,” he said, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“Oh, Pop!” Charlie burst into tears and leaped up from the table.

When her father stood, she threw herself into his arms.

 

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by. 

 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BROWN"

Welcome! This week our authors are writing to the word prompt "brown." I have another episode from 

"Someone Like You.". When you're finished stop by and read the other authors' stories. You'll find them 

HERE.  

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 “It’s settled then, Martha,” Tom Anderson said, then hung up the phone. He rubbed his stubbly chin as 

he thought about how he’d break it to his daughter. He put up another pot of coffee, then paced while 

the machine brewed.

Charlotte had always been his little girl, though he treated her more like a son than a daughter. When Corey had gone off to college and Tom’s wife passed away, Charlotte and Tom had only each other. They had grown close.

Only now with the changes coming down the pike did he realize how he’d protected her, kept her from striking out on her own. He’d always been there to take care of her and she’d always been there to take care of him.

Had he stood in her way of finding a young man and getting married? Maybe. He drew his eyebrows together as guilt gnawed at him. She’d seemed content to follow along, learn carpentry, and spend her time painting walls and working with wood. He had to admit she had a talent for creating perfect furniture. Clean lines, perfect finishes, unique designs gave her work an audience of wealthy buyers.

Over the years, Tom had kept back some of the money she’d earned. It was easy to do as she left the bookkeeping up to him. He’d squirreled it away a safe investment and over the years it had grown to quite a nest egg.

He smiled for a moment at his wisdom. Now he could sell the house, keep the proceeds to live on for himself, and turn over the money he’d saved for her without feeling guilty. The time had come for them to go their separate ways. His eyes wetted at the thought of leaving Charlotte. He had no choice.

When he heard her car door slam, he steeled himself for the conversation he had to have. The coffeemaker wheezed. He poured himself a cup, then went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of rum. He added a liberal splash to the dark brown liquid in his mug, then faced the door.

Charlotte entered.

“Hi, Pop,” she said, dropping her car keys in a bowl in the kitchen. “Coffee fresh?”

“Yep,” he said, taking a mug down from the cabinet, and reaching for the sugar bowl.

“No sugar,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. Forgot.” He filled the mug and handed it to her. “Sit down, Charlie. We gotta talk.”

She chuckled. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.”

That's it for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SANDY"

 

  Hello and welcome! 

     It's time for Tuesday Tales again. And we have another excerpt of "Someone Like You."  Don't forget to visit all the authors here and sample their wonderful stories. Find them HERE. 

                                        *************************************************

Charlotte wondered how she’d ever be able to move out of this apartment once Mary returned. She sighed.

“Not to your liking?” Mary Walden asked.

“Oh no. Not at all. I love it. It’s like a palace. I just can’t imagine ever having to leave it.”

Mary laughed. “I will be coming back, unless I meet a wealthy count who sweeps me off my feet.”

“Really?”

“I’m kidding. You do know I write romance novels under a pen name, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I have a romantic imagination. Please don’t blow my cover,” Mary said, patting Charlotte’s forearm.

“Oh, I won’t.”

“I have some of my books in the living room bookcase. You’re welcome to read them.”

“I think I have a romantic imagination, too,” Charlotte said.

“Perfect! You’ll see them there. My pen name is Sandy Fontaine.”

“Thank you so much!” Charlotte said, smiling.

 Mary and Charlotte worked out the price, move-day, and how to work the locks. Charlotte wrote out a check for the first two month’s rent.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” Mrs. Walden said. “It’s a relief to have the rent covered and to know someone will be staying here, keeping an eye on the place.”

After a brief hug, Charlotte returned to her car. On the drive home, she could not stop grinning. This would be just the beginning of her independence. But she sobered up when she realized she’d have to confront her father. She’d saved enough money to be independent for over a year. She’d taken over her father’s contracts for the University’s work. She had also established some of her own clients, like the Willow Falls Inn, and a small apartment building five miles out of town.

It was time to beef up her furniture business. Now she’d have a year on her own to  find a permanent

 apartment or maybe even buy a small house. She let out a breath. Taking the first step represented a 

huge leap for her, but she had no idea what suprise awaited her at home. 

That's all for this week. Comments are most welcome. Thanks for stopping by.  

 

  Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales again! This week we have another excerpt from "Someone Like You."  Charlotte goes looking for her own digs. When you're done reading, don't forget to hop on over and read the wonderful works of the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find their work HERE. 

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Charlotte found three apartments looking for someone to sublet them. Mary Walden’s intrigued her because it was in an old Victorian house. She’d have the whole second floor. Itching to see it, she sent an email.

“I haven’t found anyone to take it yet. Would you like to come see it?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Can you come tonight. I’m leaving in five days and I’m dying to get the sublet sewn up.”

“Of course. What’s the address.”

Charlotte hopped in her car and drove over. From the outside, it appeared that the old house had been kept up well. It was painted a lovely yellow with white trim. She parked in the large lot behind the house and rang the bell. At the buzz, she entered and climbed a set of carpeted stairs with an old wooden banister embellished with curlicues and other intricate molding, painted white. At the top of the stairs, a large, mahogany door finished in a rich, dark brown with a fine patina greeted her.

The door opened and Mary Walden, an older woman with short gray hair, stepped aside.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

‘Please come in. I’m so happy to meet you,” she said.

Charlotte entered a spacious sitting room comfortably furnished with two large sofas. There were three tall curtained windows, and a good-sized white marble fireplace and hearth. One wall sported a narrow floor-to-ceiling, built-in bookcase. A writing desk hugged one corner. The floor was a shiny wide-plank wood finished to a gleam. Two braided area rugs added warmth. Charlotte clasped her hands together and gave a small gasp.

Mary Walden’s brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”

“Oh no. Quite the opposite. It’s perfect. Like stepping back in time.”

Mary Walden smiled. “Oh, good. I’m so glad you like it. Let me show you the bedroom, kitchen and den.” 

       Her heart sped up as she followed Mary from one beautiful room to another. Was it a dream? Even if she only lived there for three months, it was so,  much more than she had hoped. 

        Visions of curling up on the sofa with her crush, maybe a small fire on a cool early fall evening floated through her mind. 

         "Dr, Garrett's going to love it," she mumbled to herself. 

        "Who?" Ms. Walden asked. 

         Charlotte bluxhedd. "Nothing."

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by. Don't forget to leave a comment! 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "CUP"

 

Good day! This week we have more of "Someone Like You". It's a bit spicier than usual, so be 

forewarned. Nothing too explicit, just suggestive. I hope you like it. Please leave a comment, I love 

comments! 

Don't forget to make the rounds. Find the wonderful stories of the other Tuesday Tales writers HERE! 

                                  *************************************************

Her mind zeroed in on Mark Garrett. She wondered what he looked like naked. Was he hairy or smooth, muscular or scrawny? She giggled to herself that the stereotype of a professor was brainy not brawny. She liked that he was smart, but brawny men in movies and on television captured her more erotic fantasies.

If she was really going to do this, she needed a place of her own. The picture of trying to sneak Mark Garrett into her bedroom with her father snoring down the hall made her laugh out loud. That would never do. If she would have an intimate relationship with the professor, it would have to be in a private place – her place, not his. She’d never be comfortable on foreign ground.

Where could she find an apartment before the dance? The school Facebook page, or the local newspaper’s website. She’d get busy tomorrow searching for just the right place. No way could she furnish a whole apartment in such a short time. Maybe she could find a sublet? Some professors go on sabbatical and travel abroad. She’d seen ads for those. That would perfect.

Comfortable she’d solved that problem, she closed her eyes and imagined what his long, slender fingers

 would feel like cupping her in private places. She sighed and let sleep overtake her, shepherding her 

into erotic dreams.

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - MACHINE

 Howdy do and welcome! This week we're writing our stories to the word prompt "machine." I have more of my story that didn't have a name, but now does. It's titled, "Someone Like You." When you'r'e done, bop on over to read the other authors' stories. You'll find them HERE. 

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Charlie stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a terry robe. The house was chilly. She turned up the heat.

“It’s freezing in here,” she said.

“Don’t be wasting heat,” Tom said, washing dishes.

“I contribute to this house and I’m not going to be freezing my backside off because you’re cheap,” she said. She cranked the machine up another two degrees just for spite.

Tom continued on in silence. She knew he was pissed. Charlie went to her room and shut the door. She’d been living here too long. Desire for her own place grew every year she stayed. Her phone rang.

“Hi, Corey. What’s up.”

“My miracle worker bride pulled it off.”

“Pulled what off?” Charlie asked.

“She got Professor Garrett to agree to chaperone.”

Silence. Charlie plopped down, cross-legged on her bed.

“You there?” Corey asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just surprised.”

Corey laughed. “Now you gotta go.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Aw, come on! You’re gonna get me in trouble. And poor Mark Garrett is going to be disappointed because the coolest girl isn’t going to be there.”

“Good try, Corey,” she said, supressing a laugh.

“Come on, Charlotte. Don’t you want a chance to meet him when you’re looking like a girl?”

She bit her lip. With his usual perception, Corey had hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what she wanted, what she’d prayed for. Now that it was possible, could she handle it?

“I don’t have anything to wear,” she said, embarrassed at how lame it sounded.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Kitty will take you shopping. I’ll give you the money! It’s time you stopped hiding behind Charlie,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go.”  She chewed her lip.

“You won’t regret it.”

“Thanks, Corey,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he said and was off.

Why couldn’t more men be like Corey? Would she find out what Mark Garrett was really like? And would she regret it? She slipped a flannel nightgown over her head and crawled into bed. The book she’d been reading, House of Mirth by Edith Wharton didn’t capture her interest. She put the book down and doused the light.

Lying in the dark, Charlotte let dreams of love, independence, and sex breeze through her mind. If she was going to put Charlotte on display, she’d better be ready. As she lay sleepless in the chilly room, she pulled up the comforter to her chin.

That's all. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "STUNNING

 

Welcome! This week we have more conversation between Mac and Callie int he story with no name. They were among my first heroes and heroines. I still love them and their banter comes back to me just like it was long ago when they first came into my life. I hope you enjoy this snippet and you go on to read the rest of the stories by my esteemed colleagues. Find their stories HERE. 

     

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Mac turned to his wife. “So who is this chick you’re foisting off on poor, unsuspecting Professor Garrett?”

“You know her.”

“I do?” Mac raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. It’s Charlie, the painter.”

“Who?”

“Charlie,” Callie repeated, patiently.

“That woman in man’s clothing?”

“Mac, please keep an open mind. She dresses that way because she spends her day fixing plaster, painting walls, doing dirty, physical work.”

“A man’s work.”

“Your prejudice is showing.”  Callie pushed to her feet.

“Honestly, Callie. I’m just telling it as I see it. She’s a mess.”

“Sure, when she’s working. But I’m betting that under that paint smudged face and ungainly hat is a stunning young woman.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“I can’t.” she strolled into the kitchen.

“So you’re taking a risk? Rolling the dice, gambling on Mark Garrett’s goodwill?” He followed her.

“You could put it that way. But if I’m right, he’ll be the big winner,” Callie said, opening the fridge.

“And so will she. He’s a pretty hot guy, I’m guessing.”

“Yes. And, yes, she will be. It’s a win/win, if I’m right.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Mac asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“Let’s not go there,” Callie said, pulling a frown. “Hmm. Left over lasagne or pizza?”

“I had the pizza for lunch,” Mac said.

“Then lasagne it is. Will you make a salad?” She asked. Pulling a large glass pan from the fridge shelf and placing it on the counter.

“Sure.” Mac stepped up to the fridge and opened the crisper drawer.

“Just think of the outcome, if I’m right,” she said.

“Should I brush off my tuxedo?” He grinned.

“That might be a bit premature,” she laughed.

“I never doubt your nose for these things. You have a 100 percent win record as a matchmaker.”

“Fingers crossed that holds this time, too,” she said, her voice hopeful. 

Mac placed lettuce and other salad fixings on the kitchen table, then joined his wife at the stove. “It’s a slam dunk, with you pulling the strings, baby,” he said, leaning over to kiss his wife.

                               **************************************** 

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by.