We went to the New City Library where she played games on the little kids computers for and hour, checked out books on tapes for me and said, “I’m hungry. Let’s go to Opa’s for grilled cheese, fries and chocolate milk.” And away we went for a five minute drive to Opa’s, the smallest diner I’ve ever seen. “Ola“, she said bursting through the door, and placed her order. Granny orders nothing. My pleasure is to enjoy her spirit, the way she takes charge, her friendly nature and to eat a french fry or two.
Here comes the special part: After she dumped the detritus in the containers saving the waiter work, she leaned forward over the table. “Granny, it takes a lot of work to own a restaurant. You have to clean the floors all the time, order food for people, cook, wash the windows. I don’t think I’ll own a restaurant when I grow up. Maybe I’ll write books like you or be a teacher like mommy.” We explored other careers, my grandest granddaughter and I, as I marveled at her thought processes at almost five. I’m sure when I was five I never had such an expanded horizon.
As a family oriented author my books have a sprinkling of children,pets, and somehow this mild mannered woman throws in suspense with bad guys who stand in the way of hero and heroine’s happiness. They have enough conflicts to worry about. See, it’s not easy, folks.
Starting Over: a few words to whet your appetite.
She ran as fast as she could on the hard packed sand this early morning in February, still cold in St. Augustine, Florida. Cold and beautiful with the tide out and no one around. Always surefooted, not as steady since Larry died eight months before, Emily Kendrick stumbled and caught her balance. There was a sense of someone watching her, close to her, yet she ran into no one on the deserted beach. It was almost an everyday occurrence. Tears spilled down her face just as the hurdles set for the track team came up. Easy leap over the first one, the second knocked over by a careless foot. Emily fell and didn’t get up.
A lone runner sprinted through foam at the water’s edge and hurried to aid the fallen woman.
Binoculars slammed against the railing of the widow’s walk where two eyes had been watching the long-legged runner for months. From his well hidden perch high up on the mansion over-looking the Atlantic Ocean, under investigation the infamous Clifford Lansdale said, “She’s mine.” Fragments of the expensive binoculars lay at his feet.