TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "RIDE"

 

Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales again. This week we have more of my Kensington State University story with no name. Don't forget to read the stories by our wonderful group of writers. Find them HERE. 

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Charlie put down the roller, stood back and surveyed the walls. They were pristine. And her paint job? Perfect, as usual. After she finished, the bigger job began – cleanup. She scrubbed her hands in the ladies room, put her tools in a satchel and ambled down the hall on her way home.

A poster in bright pink and green drew her  eye. It read:

 

                 The Spring Dance is Coming

                 Saturday, April 5, 8pm

                 The Gym

                Admission: $10.

 

Charlie made a face and said to herself, “Hah! Just saved ten bucks.” When she got outside, the honking of a car got her attention. Corey, her brother, sat in the passenger seat of her car.

“I need a ride to town. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Where to?”

“Cleaners. Gotta pick up my sports jacket,” he said.

She put the car in gear. “What do you need your sports jacket for?”

“The dance. You going?”

“Me?” she gave a derisive laugh. “No. Of course not.”

“Really? That’s too bad. I heard Professor Garrett’s going to be there,” he said, glancing out the window.

Charlie screeched on the brakes.

“What the Hell? What are you doing?”

A driver leaning on his horn sped by, giving her the finger.

“Sorry. I didn’t see that car.”

“I guess not.” Sweat beaded on Corey's forehead. 

“Are you sure Professor Garrett is going?”

“Kitty asked him to chaperone,” Corey lied.

“And he agreed? He seems to shy to want to do that.”

“Well, all the professors are required to do that kinda stuff. That’s what Kitty said.”

They drove on in silence for a half mile.

“Change your mind about the dance?” her brother asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” she replied, pulling up to the curb.

That's all until next week. Thanks for stopping by. 

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "sharp"

 

   Welcome! This week we are writing to the word prompt "sharp". I have more of my new story without a name. Hop on over and read the other stories by our wonderful writers. Find them HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

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Charlotte parked in the faculty parking lot and hauled her paint cans, brushes, rollers, blue tape, and dropcloth into her brother’s new office. Once she had everything moved away from the wall, and covered with the dropcloth, she walked down to the janitor’s closet. There she found the step ladder she needed.

She taped the top of the walls, then painted the ceiling. When she finished, she stopped to take a bathroom break. One look in the mirror corroborated her surmised that her face was probably covered with tiny splotches of paint. Fortunately the cap covered her hair completely. Getting white paint out of dark auburn hair would be a giant pain.

She wiped her face off and returned to the room. As she finished taping off the walls, she heard voices in the hall. She peeked around the corner. It was her brother and Professor Mark Garrett! And they were right outside the door.

“Oh, Mr. Anderson, I found this book in your old office. Poetry for your girlfriend? Those are favorite poets of mine, too.”

“Girlfriend? Let’s see,” there was silence for a moment, then Corey’s voice continued with a laugh. “No, that’s not my girlfriend. That’s my sister, Charlotte.”

“Oh, really? You have a sister?”

“Yes.”

“Does she go to school here?” the professor asked.

At this point Charlie silently snuck outside and stood behind  the professor’s back. She drew Corey’s attention and made a sharp motion across her neck with her finger. Corey smiled at her. She glared back and made the motion again, then scooted back into the room and hid behind her roller.

“No, no. She doesn’t,” Corey said. “Say, look I’m going to be late. I have a session with HR. Good to see you, Professor Garrett,” Corey said.

The voices stopped. Charlie leaned back against the unpainted wall and sighed.

“Close call,” she said.  

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

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "WHITE"

 

Welcome! This week we're writing to the word prompt "white", which fits in perfectly with my new story. The book still has no name, but it's calling me. I hope you enjoy the snippet. Don't forget to visit the other authors and read their great works. Find them HERE. 

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Monday morning, Charlotte prepared scrambled eggs and bacon for her father and sat down across from him at their little kitchen table.

“You painting today or working on a new table?” he asked.

“Painting,” she replied before shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“I’ll drop you off at the English department. I need the truck to haul Corey’s stuff to the house he’s renting,” Tom Anderson said.

“Okay. Do we know what color they want the offices painted?”

“I’m guessing the usual linen white, but Callie’s note didn’t say.”

“Got it. Let’s stop at the hardware store. I need two more cans.”

Tom nodded, finished his food and loaded the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” Charlotte said, picking up the last piece of bacon and hurrying out the door.

Tom pulled the truck up in front of Larch Hardware.

“Don’t be jawin’ forever with Derek,” he said.

“I won’t,” Charlotte said.

Derek Larch, the son of the owner, flirted with Charlotte every time she entered.

“Charlie! Been a long time. What can I do for you?” he said, coming out from behind the counter and running his fingers through his blond hair.

“Hi, Derek. Need paint.”

“What color?”

Charlotte gave him the paint specs, then picked out a new roller and a roll of blue tape.

While the paint was mixing, he wandered over. “Changed your mind about marrying me?” he asked.

She laughed. “You ask me that every time. The answer is still “no”.”

“Some day I’m gonna see you out of that baggy jumpsuit.”

“Derek!” Charlotte drew her hand up over her chest and feigned a shocked expression.

He colored. “You know what I mean. Dressed like a girl.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“How about a movie? Or dinner? Thursdays is meatloaf night at Tony’s.”

“Thanks, Derek. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. How could she tell him Professor Mark Garrett owned her heart, even though he’d never had much conversation with her, let alone seen her dressed as a girl.

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by. Please leave a comment if you have a moment. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "PERFECT"

Welcome!  This week we are writing to the prompt "perfect". We have another excerpt from my book with no name. This excerpt is a peek into Professor Mark Garrett. When you finish reading it, hop on over and read the other writers stories. Find them HERE.  

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Professor Mark Garrett hated sitting alone at University functions. Ever since his wife, Susan, passed away, he was forced to participate on his own. Friends had been kind. He’d been invited to many homes of other professors for dinner and fixed up with a multitude of single women.

He drew the line at mixing with those enrolled at the University. He’d worked hard to establish a stellar reputation and would do nothing to tarnish it, especially for a roll in the hay. 

It had been almost five years now. He’d given himself many lectures that it was time to start over, to begin a new chapter of his life. Still, he put his energies into work and tried to ignore his loneliness. He clung to a romantic, if childish, notion that when the right woman came along, he’d snap out of his depression, spring into action, and find his happily-ever-after. 

After the ceremony, he returned to his old office to pick up his briefcase bulging with student papers to read and grade. One the desk sat a slim volume of poetry titled, From Wordsworth to Frost. Those were two of his favorites.

He wondered who it belonged to, so he lifted the cover to see if there was a name inside. There was an inscription.

 

                Charlotte –

              Merry Christmas.

             L.,

            Corey

 

Corey? Must be Corey Anderson. Could Charlotte be his girlfriend? Probably. Mark smiled. He’d given Susan a volume of poetry when she was in college. It tickled him to see this as the perfect romantic gift again so many years later. He wondered who this person, Charlotte, could be? Certainly no one in any of his classes. He would have remembered such a pretty name.   

 

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

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "Child"

 

Welcome! This week we have a little more information about Charlotte in my story-without-a-title. When you're finished reading bop on over and read the amazing stories of the other Tuesday Tales writers. Find them HERE 

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When Charlotte was a child, she lost her mother. Her father withdrew, leaving the children to fend for themselves. She picked up her mother's duties - keeping house and learning to cook. She and Corey became close. 

When Corey entered college, he insisted on moving into the dorm. Charlotte had been devastated. The last thing she wanted was to be saddled with her father. As she grew into a fine carpenter, he paid her a salary. Soon Charlotte had enough to get herself a modest home. Reluctantly, she accepted responsibility for her father's well being -- his mental health -- and remained in his house. 

Even though Tom depended on her, Charlotte maintained some independence. She made friends with Winnie at Java the Hut, Derek at the hardware store, and Jess Lennox, owner of the old inn with her husband. 

During long, dark nights, Charlotte tired of television and found herself drawn to books. Maybe it was Corey's influence or Professor Garrett's. Charlotte got a library card and, on a snowy winter's eve, she curled up in her mother's rocking chair with a blanket, a romance book, and her cat, Jasper. 

Tom had made the rocker for Charlotte's mother as a wedding present. Charlotte found comfort in the old wooden chair.    

 

Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SILLY"

 

Howdy do! Welcome. We have more stories by the talented Tuesday Tales writers today. We're writing to the word prompt "silly". I have the second installment from my new book-in-progress. Don't forget to leave comments. The authors love to hear from you. After you read my story, bop on over to the writers. Find them HERE. 

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Proud of her brother for his accomplishment, she kept her mouth shut about him being thirty-two. Her father had no such qualms.

“It’s about time that boy got the damn degree. He’s been at it long enough. Geez, I coulda built me two, three, maybe even four houses all by myself in the time it took him to do that dang thing. Readin’ all those silly books. At least now he’ll be able to get a good job.”

“And marry Kitty Caldwell,” Charlie put in.

“Yeah. Maybe get to havin’ some grandkids,” Tom said, a half-grin on his dry lips.

Her gaze settled again on Professor Garrett. He preferred to be called “professor” instead of “doctor.” He’d said he always looked around for a man in a white coat when someone called him “doctor”. Charlie wondered why he didn’t look around for a woman in a white coat, but she kept that to herself.

She noticed the other professors who would be presenting honors from different departments sat with their wives. Not Professor Garrett. He took his position alone. Charlotte wondered why he wasn’t married. Maybe his wife was sick.

“Don’t you go getting any ideas about Professor Garrett,” her father said.

Charlotte felt heat rush to her face. She turned away, hoping he wouldn’t see.

“I got eyes, girl. I see the way you look at him. He’s forty. Too old for you. Widowed, too. So just forget it. With all the boys going to this college, you’d think a pretty girl like you would’ve picked one out by now,” Tom said, giving his head a little shake.

“Please, Pop. Be quiet!” Charlotte wanted to crawl under her chair. Fortunately, Professor Garrett didn’t hear. Or if he did, he didn’t turn around. She let out a breath. Sometimes her father could be a bull in a china shop. She grinned. Maybe all the time.

“I mean…”

The band stuck up the national anthem. Everyone stood up.

“Shhh,” Charlotte said, welcoming any interruption of her father’s opinions on her life.    

When the song concluded, everyone sat and the president of Kensington State, Mac Caldwell, took the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, students, faculty, parents, family, and friends. It is my honor to present the very first Ph. D. degrees from the University.

Charlotte didn’t hear the rest of his speech. Her eyes filled. All she could think of was Corey and his achievement. Pride in her brother filled her heart, along with a sadness that her mother couldn’t be there to see her son’s success.  

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

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "FRUIT" - NEW STORY!

 

Howdy do! Welcome! This week the glorious Tuesday Tales writers are writing to the word prompt "fruit." I am starting a brand new story!! Yes, the first new one in a long time and I'm thrilled. I'm so pumped. I hope I can devote lots of winter indoor-days to writing this tale. I don't even have a name for the book, but I do know that it will be book 10 in the Pine Grove series. 

So here's the beginning of the book. Pardon my writing as it has not been edited or proofed yet. I hope you like the story. If you do and you want to read more, please leave an encouraging comment. Those always motivate me to go to the computer. Thanks for stopping by. 

When you're done with my excerpt, please visit the other TT authors. Find them HERE. 

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Charlotte Emily Anderson stood next to her father in the fifth row, at the garden where the Master’s degrees were to be presented. English professor Dr. Mark Garrett walked right past them. He didn’t recognize Charlotte and only gave a brief nod to her father.

Ever since she did the renovation of his office at Kensington State University, Charlotte had developed a huge crush on Dr. Garett. He didn’t recognize her because she always tucked her long dark hair under a painter’s hat and wore worker’s overalls. And she answered to the nickname of “Charlie”. Her gaze followed his attractive form to the front row.

Her father had insisted she dress like that when she worked a job.

“Don’t be flauntin’ your goods around men, Sister. You’ll be working alone there without me or your brother to protect you. And men get ideas. Besides, these men expect a man to be doing carpentry and painting walls, not some delicate flower.”

“I’m no delicate flower, Pa,” Charlotte had responded, pulling herself up to her full five foot eight inches.

“Well, your mother, God rest her soul, thought so.”

Her mother had died before she could see the fruit of her loins turn into a tomboy. Her father tried to teach his son, Corey, Charlotte’s older brother, his trade. But the boy ignored his father and spent his days under a tree reading literature while his sister finished each project.

After three years of letting her brother pass off her work as his, Charlotte spoke up. There was a terrible row. Corey stormed out of the house, then her father followed. When his son went off to college to study literature, Tom Anderson settled himself on hiring his daughter. That’s when she got the nickname “Charlie.”

Tom did carpentry for the university in exchange for free tuition for his son. There wasn’t money to send his daughter. Besides, she preferred woodworking to reading tiresome stories written by people long since dead. Besides, he needed her to keep his business going to put food on the table. He was getting too old to do everything himself. That was just fine with Charlie.

 

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