Monday, November 7, 2016

TUESDAY TALES - "BAND" #lovestory #christmasstory

Welcome! Thank you for stopping by. Here's a bit from A King's Christmas, continuing from my last post, a couple of weeks ago. 
I hope you enjoy it. 


When they arrived home, Alyssa was in the kitchen making carrot soup. As she stirred the pot she sung a Christmas song from her childhood. She waved, but kept singing when her twin sister arrived.
“Don’t sing that, okay?” Lexie said.
“Why not?”
“That was mom’s song. I don’t want to hear it.”
“You still hate her, don’t you?” Alyssa picked up the salt and shook it over the large pot.
“I don’t hate her.  Well, no, that’s not true. I do kinda sorta hate her.”
“After all these years you should be past that now.”
“She has been gone forever, hasn’t she?”
“Yep. Would you taste the soup? I think it needs more salt.” Alyssa dipped a big spoon in the bubbling liquid.
“Yum. That’s delish. Perfect. No more salt,” Lexie said. “Wait ‘till Tuffer tastes that.”
“He’ll be asking you to make it every week,” Lyssa replied.
“And I’ll send him over to your house,” her sister replied.
Jo dropped her bundles on the kitchen table then stopping at the highchair where her infant son sat. “Has he been good?”
The baby shrieked with joy upon seeing his mother.
“Butch has been a doll. But he always is,” Lyssa said, beaming at the child.
“He must take after you, Jo,” Lexie said. “Dad doesn’t have such an even disposition.”
Jo pulled out three jars of baby food from the cabinet. She also took down the box of Cheerios. After dumped a small handful on his tray, she heated up his food.
“I think your father has a very even disposition,” Jo remarked.
Both girls burst out laughing. “Haven’t you been watching him on the field?” Lexie asked.
“Oh my God, every curse word he knows,” Lyssa said, shaking her head. “I hope Tuffer’s parents won’t be offended.”
“They’re regular people. They won’t care,” Lexie added.
“Lexie, are you doing the stuffing? Where’s the schedule?” Jo asked.
Alexia strolled over to the fridge and glanced at a paper tacked up with a magnet.
“Hmm. Yep. My name is next to the stuffing. I’d better get started.”
“We need to put that bird in the oven in,” Jo checked her watch. “Twenty minutes. Can you do it?” Jo stirred the baby’s cereal and meat together. Butch grabbed Cheerios in his little fist and shoved them into his mouth.
“I’m on it. Twenty minutes? Piece of cake,” Lexie said.
Jo smiled as she sat down and dipped a tiny spoon into the mush. Her son’s eyes lit up. He grinned and kicked his feet as he mother scooped up a bit of his meal.
“Butch is a good eater,” Lyssa observed.
“Just like his dad,” Jo said, twisting the wedding band on her finger. 

“Next year we might have to get a bigger turkey,” Lexie chuckled, opening the fridge.

Thanks for coming. Now on to the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE.  Check out my website HERE 


Monday, October 17, 2016


Welcome! Maggie's Story has to go on the shelf before I give away everything. But it will be out early next year as a novella. Now we're going to take a peek into my WIP holiday book, A Kings' Christmas. 
This scene opens with Lexie Sebastian shopping in town for Thanksgiving dinner. First stop, the bakery. 


   Lexie held the door for her stepmother, Jo. 
   "How about some bread?"
   The younger woman wrinkled her nose. 
   "But Lyssa makes that great garlic toast. For during the game or before dinner?"
   "If you want it," she said, wandering over to the window. 
   Jo touched her stepdaughter's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
   "I guess."
   "That doesn't sound very positive. What's wrong?"
   "Tuffer and his parents are coming tomorrow."
   "I'm glad they could make it. I want to meet them."
   "They're real nice. Even dad won't be able to criticize them."
   "Then what's the problem?" Jo eyed the fresh bread section. 
   "It's just's kinda silly."
   "What?" Jo took a number and got on line.
   "I was hoping Tuffer and I could have some time alone. I think there's something he wants to ask me." She stared at her hands. 
   Jo's head snapped up. She narrowed her eyes. 
   "Do you mean what I think you mean?"
   "How long were you dating dad before he proposed?"
   "Long enough. Why?"
   "No reason. Tuffer and I have been dating for almost a year. Is that long enough?"
   "It depends. Your father and I were older. He'd been married. We knew more."
   "Did you feel more? Because I can't imagine you could’ve loved dad more than I love Tuffer."
   "You do?" Her eyebrows shot up.   
   "There'll be too many people around. He has to take care of his parents."
   "Are the invalids?"
   "No. But he'll want to. Not want to leave them alone."
   "You'll still love him as much after the holiday."
   "Don't tell dad, okay?" 
   "Okay. Probably give him a heart attack, anyway. Which bread do you want?"
   "The boule."
   "We'll take two boules," Jo said to the person behind the counter. On the way out, she slipped a wedding cake brochure in her pocket.   

Tuesday, May 31, 2016


Here's the scenario:

 The ground was soft and slippery from the rain three days earlier. He hated playing in muddy conditions, but it was part of the game. He won the toss and elected to kick off now and receive in the second half. He paced and watched from the area around the bench.
They were playing the Delaware Demons, and he wanted to see if he could learn anything from their quarterback, Mark Davis. Davis was good. He had won the Super Bowl in his rookie year.
The Kings defense was in top form, and Griff was on the field before long. He called the first play. Buddy got free, and Griff threw a bullet right to his favorite receiver, who caught it and took it for a fifteen yard gain and a first down.
The next play, the Kings’ offensive line screwed up. Griff ran a few yards then had to slide to avoid a tackle. A fumble recovered by the Demons meant a turnover, and the Kings lost the ball. Davis came back with a long pass that enabled them to score.
The Kings bounced back with impressive blocking from the offensive line. Griff completed a pass to Homer Calloway, who ran it in for a touchdown. The score seesawed back and forth. It was tied then the Demons inched ahead with a field goal. Griff and the Kings leapfrogged over that score with a touchdown.
It was close at half time. Coach Bass tried to buck up the men in the locker room, as the Kings were behind by three. When they got back on the field, they redoubled their efforts and squeaked ahead. The defense fought to hold the Demons back, but they eked out a field goal to tie the game.

A rough tackle sent Homer to the showers. The pressure was on Griff. One more field goal for the Demons meant that only a touchdown could win the game. Griff nodded. It was a signal that indicated the quarterback was about to fake to another receiver and shoot the pass out to Buddy.

It's GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK. But it could be real life football. This book has such realistic scenes you'll think you're reading about a current NFL team, not a fictional one. Football + romance = a great reading experience!

To find out how this scene ends, you'll have to buy the book. Now available in ebook, paperback, and audio, too!)

Two people, two tragedies, two deep, devastating secrets….  Griff Montgomery is the headline-making, heart-breaking star quarterback of the Kings – a  6’4”, 33 year old womanizer. Lauren Farraday is a beautiful young interior designer, bitterly scarred by divorce, whose life is falling apart. Though they violently oppose one another in court over her beloved pug (she thinks he’s arrogant and  conceited, and he thinks she’s a bitch on wheels), something happens....

Monday, May 23, 2016

Tuesday Tales - Purple - #NFL, #football #romance

Welcome! The word prompt this week is "purple". I continue with Trunk and Carla's story from "Overtime" -- last book in the First & Ten Series. 


“You know what they said, Ma?” Carla repeated the story her siblings told. Then she laughed. “What? What does he owe?” There was a moment of silence as Carla listened to her mother. “How much? Figures.”
She took off her purple apron and hung it on the hook on the wall, glanced up at Trunk and threw him a smile.
“Thanks, Ma. I knew you’d understand. Have a great time in Florida. Did you get my letter? Yeah. As Pop would say, don’t spend it all in one place.”
Carla hung up the phone. She leaned back and rested her feet on another stool.
“So? Don’t keep me hangin’ here.”
“Ma’s fine. In fact, she’s going on vacation, driving to Florida with my dad. They’ll be gone for two weeks. With most of the kids out of the house, they saved a little money.”
“On vacation? Doesn’t sound like she’s dying.”
Carla took his hand. “She’s fine. I sent her fifty bucks. She’s keeping that to get a mani-pedi or her hair done. I send her a little money from time to time. Whenever I can spare it.”
“You never told me that.”
She shrugged. “It never came up.”
“So what’s your brother’s problem?”
“He lost some money gambling and his wife’s gonna kill him. Gina wants new clothes. Thought they’d take a ride over here and shake me down.”
Trunk laughed as he shook his head. “Relatives.”
“Yeah.  Ma knows about our wedding. She was sad for a bit, but said she understood.”
“You had a rough time growing up?”
“It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake. Ma’s always felt bad so much landed on me. So she cuts me a lot more slack than she does the others.”
“Can I give you some money to send to her?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“Maybe we could bring them here for Christmas or something?”
“They’d like that.” She grinned. “Once I told Ma what kind of man I was marrying, she got that I didn’t want to wait. Some other girl might take you away.”
Trunk lifted his wife into his lap. “No other woman in the world could take me away. You’re the best, baby.”

“Goes double for you, big guy.” 

Thanks for coming

Monday, May 9, 2016


“Al Mahoney here, are you two from the Herald?”
“Nope. I’m Mario Ricci and this is Gina. We’re Carla’s brother and sister,” he said, shaking Trunk’s hand.
“Relatives? Great! Welcome. Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”
Carla shot him a hostile glance and shook her head. “They’re not staying.”
“How inhospitable of you, dear sister,” Mario sneered.  “I’ll have a beer. What have you got on tap?” He took the seat next to Gina.
“I’ll have a Margarita,” Gina said. “And don’t be stingy with the tequila.”
Carla put her hand on Trunk’s forearm. “I said they’re not staying.” She shot a warning glance at her husband and then turned hostile eyes on her brother. “What do you want?”
“Why do you think we want something?”
“Because that’s the only time you come around.”
“Don’t be bitter.”
“Really? You’ve got some nerve, Mario.”
“Oh, you mean that little incident with the car?”
“Leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere, by myself at midnight with a broken down car? Yeah, that, for starters.”
“So you have a list of grievances?”
“Enough to fill a roll of toilet paper.”
Trunk’s eyebrows shot up.
“What the fuck?” Gina said, swiveling to face her sister. “What’s your problem? You got out. Got your own business. Looks like you’re doing great.”
“I am. But it wasn’t easy. And when I needed help? Where were you? Nowhere to be found. You didn’t give a shit about me, why should I care about you?”
“Because we’re family.”
Carla opened a bottle of water. “Family? Who changed your diapers? I did. Who walked you to school? I did. Who picked you up? I did. Who helped with your homework, chased the bullies away, braided your hair and taught you how to dance? Huh? Huh? I did. And when I needed five hundred bucks to make it through the winter? Where were you? Off on some fucking vacation in Puerto Rico.”  She hugged herself.
“I didn’t have any money, Carla,” Gina said, her tone whiny.
“Really? Enough to buy new clothes and take a big trip.”
Gina picked at a cuticle.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. It got pretty cold in here when I couldn’t afford oil for heat.”
“You have a fireplace,” Mario put in.
“Oh, yeah? Thanks a lot. Firewood costs money, too. And it doesn’t heat this place. One measly, stinkin’ little fireplace for this whole joint and the apartment upstairs? Fuck that.”
“Mama wouldn’t like those words.”
“Get out.” Carla turned her back on them.

Thank you for coming. 

Monday, May 2, 2016


This week, we go back to Trunk Mahoney and Carla from the First & Ten series. This is from the book I'm writing now, "Overtime", the last book in the series that will tie up all the stories of the men playing for the Connecticut Kings. 
Thank you for coming. Scroll down for the link to return to Tuesday Tales. 


From "Overtime":
Carla pulled the hot pasta dish from the oven. She stuck her head outside and hollered.
“Al! Dinner! Come and get it!”
She set the table, putting the main course on a dish towel. She checked her watch again. It wasn’t like him to be late for a meal. She smiled as she recalled the many compliments he lavished on her cooking. She wiped her hands on her apron and looked out back. When she glanced at the barn, she was surprised to find the door closed. Smoke was seeping out from under, and through cracks where the old wooden windows no longer met the frames.
Panic seized her.
“Al!” She cried, taking off at a gallop for the barn.
Her pulse thudded in her ears, her breathing was rapid as her body went into crisis mode. Carla shook her head. Can’t panic now! She pulled on the door, but it was stuck. She took a deep breath and marshaled all her strength, yanking on the old piece of wood. It flew open knocking her to the ground. She jumped to her feet, only to be hit in the face by a tornado of black smoke. She started choking immediately. Turning away, she cleared her lungs. She heard someone coughing.
“Al? Al?”
“Here,” came a weak voice.
“I’m coming.”
With one hand, she felt in her pockets for her phone, with the other she fanned smoke away, clearing a path as she searched for her husband.
Her fingers dialed 911.
“Help! The barn is burning and Al’s trapped inside!.”
She gave the address. “Hurry, my husband’s in here, but
I can’t find him.”

Just as she dropped her phone into the apron pocket, she tripped over Trunk, and fell, bruising her ribs, forcing the air out of her lungs. 

Monday, April 25, 2016

Jackie followed the elderly lady up the stairs. At the top, she turned left down a long hall.
“The best room is in the back, but you’ll have to walk much farther all the time. I’ve put you in here instead. Closer to the stairs.” Maxine opened a heavy-looking wooden door and entered. She went to open the windows.
 Jackie stepped across the threshold into another world. The room was lovely, obviously a girl’s, with white antique furnishings, and a soft pink and white hand-made quilt on the bed. There was a large fireplace with a white marble mantle and hearth. A wing chair and small round table sat by one of the two tall windows.
“This was my daughter’s room. You’ve got a view of the side and a bit of the street. Keep these curtains closed or you’ll be putting on a show for the whole town,” Max warned.  
A small, round painted metal tray on the vanity held an antique comb and brush set, several gorgeous pillboxes and a few rhinestone combs.
“Don’t mind that stuff. It belonged to my grandmother. I leave it here for decoration. Can’t really use the old brush. Bristles fall out sometimes. Like an old lady’s hair,” Max chuckled.
“The room is beautiful. And the light coming in. It’s perfect.”
“It’s kinda small, but it should do.”
Max headed for the door. “I’m going downstairs for a bit. Get yourself settled in.”
Jackie touched the antique items, running her finger over the engraved initials, AMF, on the brush. She wondered what the woman’s name had been. But there wasn’t time to waste. She unpacked her bag, putting her meager belongings in the large armoire in the corner. She rested for a moment the wing chair. Today she’d stepped into a time machine and emerged in a different era. It was strangely comforting to live in the past, since her present was fairly well a blank.
Thank you for stopping by. Don't forget to read the great stories awaiting you at Tuesday Tales.

Monday, April 18, 2016


Welcome! Thanks for coming. This week the word prompt is "push". I have another installment from "Too Late for Goodbye". 
I hope you enjoy it. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales.


The living room in the old Victorian showed remnants of splendor of days gone by, the same as it's owner, Maxine Wentworth. The mahogany paneling made the massive room shrink to a cozier, less formidable size. Max stood by the huge window.
“Gardens are better than children.”
“How so?” Jackie joined her employer.
“You can put a lot of effort in at the beginning and then walk away.”
“Most gardens need tending, like people do.”
“Look there. See? My crocuses are coming up. Soon the tulips and iris’s will follow. I planted them a long time ago and they keep blooming, no matter how much I neglect them.”
“Perennials do that.”
“The garden is a mess. Will you help me with that, too?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’ve got a green thumb. Much better at plants than kids.”
“How many do you have?”
“Plants?” The older woman turned and cocked an eyebrow.
Jackie laughed. “No, kids.”
“Three. Two boys and a girl. They live far away. Two are abroad. One on the West coast.”
“I see.” Jackie nodded.
“I’m not complaining. We were never close. I tried, but mothering wasn’t my strong suit.”
“Really?” Jackie shifted her weight, suspecting the discussion was about to get too personal. She searched her brain for appropriate words.
“I was too pushy. Insisted they do well in school. Made them dress properly. Have good manners. I’m afraid I wasn’t much fun.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“Of course all three are highly successful now. They don’t need anything from me. Money, time or especially this house.”
“None of your kids wants this grand old place?”
Max shook her head. “They wouldn’t be caught dead living here. They hate the house and Pine Grove, too.”
“That’s a shame.”
Max wandered over to the sofa and eased herself down. “I suppose. Can’t blame them. They are big, important people now. And this town is simply the dust on their heels.”
Jackie joined Max, sitting at the opposite end.
“The place is old and broken down. But now that you’re here, that’s going to change.”
“It is?” Her eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, yes, my dear. You and I have our work cut out for us.”

Monday, April 11, 2016


Welcome! This week, we continue with "Too Late for Goodbye" as Jackie begins her new job as a companion to an elderly woman. Thanks for stopping by.


As if she had stepped back thirty, no forty years, Jackie stood in the kitchen and rested her hands on her hips.
Maxine cast a critical eye toward the young woman.
“What do you like?” Jackie opened the fridge door and bent over to peer inside. She spied a carton of eggs.  
“What do you suggest?” Maxine countered.
“How about an omelet?”
“There’s cheddar in the cheese drawer and some rye bread in the back somewhere. I like my toast buttered, not too dark. And put up water for tea.”
Jackie took out the ingredients, filled the kettle then searched for a way to light the stove.
“Starter doesn’t work. There are wooden matches on the back.”
Jackie hunted out utensils and a pan. While the food cooked, she stole a moment to sit down. Her leg ached. When she was teaching, she sat whenever she could. Hugh Crawford, the principal, would wander in and shoot her a disapproving look.  
“Would you say you’re a good cook?” Max asked, as Jackie placed a full plate on the table.
“Your letter said you can cook.”
“I can. But I’m no gourmet chef. I can follow a recipe and whip some stuff on my own.”
“The kettle is whistling.”
Jackie pushed to her feet, grimacing in pain.
“I take half a teaspoon of sugar and milk. I’ll have the Earl Grey.”

When the beverage was made and brought to the table, the younger woman returned to her seat. Her food was cold, but she ate it anyway.
“I didn’t intend to hire an invalid. What’s wrong with you?”
Fear of being fired on her first day sent a wave of panic through Jackie. “I had an accident. I’m almost all better.”
“You’d better be. There’s a lot to be done in a house this size. And climbing stairs is part of it.”
“I know.”
“Good. I’d hate to fire you so soon.”
Jackie dropped her fork on her plate.
“Besides, you make a pretty fair omelet. One of my favorites. Clean up in here then join me in the living room.”
The older woman pushed up from the table and made her way out of the kitchen. 

Jackie sat back, her gaze traveling over the old appliances, faded counter tops, and ugly linoleum flooring.
 There was even a rotary phone attached to the wall. It was the first one she’d seen. After piling the dishes in the sink, she turned on the water, and went to work.         

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Monday, April 4, 2016


This week is our picture prompt week. We had to choose among several doors. This is my choice. We return to "Too Late for Goodbye" again this week. I hope you enjoy this 300-word snippet and will return to Tuesday Tales and read all the stories. 


Jackie hesitated before knocking on the old oak door. She glanced up at the mansard roof, the graceful, peeling white shutters and the thick, detailed, white molding. The house was a mansion. She wondered about the old woman who lived there.

The young woman took a deep breath and let it out. This companion job was her last chance at independence. She had to make it work and she would, no matter how cantankerous the old lady was. Jackie would find a way to get along with her. Screwing up her courage, she knocked once, then again.

“Coming, coming! Keep your shirt on.” The hinges creaked and the heavy door swung open. Behind it stood a short, slender woman. Her gray hair was cut in a stylish, attractive do. She wore a little lipstick, black pants, a T-shirt, and a corduroy jacket.
“Jackie Tremont?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”
The older woman rested her hands on her hips and looked Jackie over.
“You’re kinda skinny, but I guess that’s to be expected. I mean after what you went through.”
“You’re Maxine Connors?”
“Call me Max. Come on in. We’ll get you settled in your room later. You’re just in time for lunch.” She stepped aside and let the young woman inside.

Jackie carried a small suitcase and wore a backpack. She put her luggage down by the door in the mahogany paneled entryway and followed Max into the kitchen.
“I understood you could cook,” she said, sitting down at the table.
“Yep. I’m not gourmet chef, but I can do a fair stew and bake a little bread.”
“That’s good.” There were two place settings. “Let’s eat.”
Jackie looked around, but didn’t see any food.  “What are we having?”
“I don’t know. What are you making?”  Maxine asked, breaking into a smile.

Thank you for stopping by. Don't forget to find out what doors the other writers selected and read their stories.

Monday, March 28, 2016

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SWALLOW" #shortstory #amwriting

Welcome. Life took over last week and I couldn't post. But I'm back this week. We return to the work-in-progress, tentatively titled, "Too Late for Goodbye."

Jackie stared back and forth from one to the other. She recognized a physical resemblance but had no memory of them. Pain like she had never known seared her body.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Mama and Pop,” Bill corrected.
As if he had placed a puzzle piece in her brain, the sound of his voice and the nicknames reverberated in her head, brought their names back to her. She nodded.
“Yes. I remember those names.”
“That’s us,” Betty said in a low voice.
 “What happened to you, sweetheart?” Bill probed.
“I don’t know.” She swallowed, surprised she was still upset to admit that after so many months of explaining again and again that she hadn’t a clue.
“Oh my God,” Betty’s fingers flew to her mouth and she turned to her husband and sobbed.
“Can you come with us, Ms. Tremont? I think we can clear some of this up and you can go home with your family.” The officer motioned her to follow.
After two hours at the police station, Jackie was released into the custody of the Tremonts. The investigators instructed her to call them the moment she recollected anything at all. The earnest looks on their faces gave them credibility. They had been most kind through her ordeal. Jackie promised to get back in touch if her memory returned. She thanked everyone in the station house for their kindness and care.

After a tearful farewell with Angela, Jackie slid into the backseat of the older couple’s car. Fear and emotion had tugged at her all day, exhausting her. She slept most of the way back to Pine Grove. Once they arrived, after settling her in her old room, her parents showed her pictures of them together in happier times. Jackie believed that they were her family. A tension she’d been holding for a long time melted and flowed out of her. She’d have to get to know them again, but that would be okay. At least she had a family. 

Thank you for coming. Don't forget to read the other stories by talented writers. 

Monday, March 14, 2016


Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. This week we continue with a short excerpt from my WIP, "Too Late for Goodbye" and the word prompt "Grab." Don't forget to visit the wonderful authors of Tuesday Tales. Scroll down for a link below. 

The next morning, after Angela left for work, Jackie bundled up and went for a walk. Though she still walked with a slight limp, she was determined to get her smooth stride back. Then she did some hand exercises as she perused the want ads on Angela’s computer. I have to get a job.
 She’d only been at Angela’s house for four days when law enforcement showed up, right after Angela.
“You’re home early. Are you okay? Jackie asked her friend.
“I’m fine. The police are here. They want to ask you a few questions. They’ve brought someone else, too,” Angela said, stepping back, holding the door open.
Two uniformed officers entered, followed by an older couple. Jackie stood up from the computer table and grabbed her cane. There was a gasp from the man and the woman burst into tears. Jackie stared at them, fear coursing through her veins.
“Do you recognize these people?” One officer asked her.
“Should I?”
“Oh my God. Jackie. Jackie, darling. My sweet girl,” the woman moaned.
“Seems they’re your parents,” the other officer chimed in.
Jackie froze, unable to suck air into her lungs. Her heart beat doubled, pounding in her ears.

“This is Betty and Bill Tremont. They live in Pine Grove. They’ve just reported you missing.”

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

V.L. Locey: Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

This respite from the tension of Jon's life is most welcome. But why do I feel it's temporary? I love that Charlotte has fooled everyone. The secret is a wonderful one. Love this story.

Monday, March 7, 2016


Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. This is the picture and the story is, tentatively, "Too Late for Goodbye." This is a work-in-progress and has not been edited. 


Bill Tremont yanked open the car door. “Get in, Betty.”
     “Are you sure you want to do this?”
     “What the hell’s wrong with you, woman? Our daughter’s been missing going on a year now. And you think she’s just finished with us? Bullshit. I don’t buy it for a minute and I’m sick of sitting around listening to you make excuses. I’m driving to South Hampton now. You can either come with or stay home. The choice is yours.”
Betty Tremont got in the front seat. Her husband threw the car in gear and headed down Route 16 toward the highway. They had a good fifteen miles to go, Bill’s foot pushed down on the accelerator.
“Take it easy, Bill.”                                          
“Shoulda done this six months ago. Eight months ago!”
“What if she’s there and just doesn’t want to speak to us?”
“Then I’ll take her over my knee, give her a lecture and come home. At least I’ll know she’s alive.”
“Oh, Bill, you don’t really think she’s…”
He put his hand on her arm. “I don’t. But we’ve gotta know. Don’t get upset. If the news is bad, there’ll be plenty of time to lose it then.”
Betty patted his hand. “Always the voice of reason.”
They drove on in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Bill didn’t often lie to his wife, but he did today. She’d been able to read his mind very soon into their thirty year marriage. And this time was no exception. Grim thoughts about his daughter were what drove him behind the wheel. Betty voiced exactly what he had been thinking. Jackie’s dead. Why else would she lose contact with us?
Bill Tremont had a reputation as a truthful and curious man. He had to know, always. And the fate of his daughter was no exception.