Once the book tour was over, I went home and fell into bed sleeping for what felt like an eternity. On the third day I woke up determined to let go of the unusual events that had taken place during my visit to The Naked Ankle.
I always experience a period of readjustment after a book tour. Days seem to stretch out in front of me with few demands on my time when the week before time spent taking a shower or waiting for a car to arrive felt like a vacation. I usually spend the days leading up to Christmas shopping, resting, and enjoying the holiday activities going on around me. I also use that time to begin mapping out my new characters and the basic plot line for the next Book Boyfriend Holiday Romance. It’s not only a great way to get back to a gentler routine, it also gives me a place to start from in January when drafting the next book takes center stage.
All writers have their own way of working, their own rituals or traditions. For me, starting a new project begins with cooking a meal on December 1st. The brunch that results serves two purposes, I do it to thank Lisa for all of her help throughout the year; it's also a "We Survived Another Book Tour" celebration. After the meal has been eaten and we're sitting back with our festive holiday coffees, I retrieve the box. A 10 x 8 wooden work of art with my initials engraved into the top in an elegant script. It has a tiny lock and is varnished in a warm nutmeg finish. The box felt like a bit of an indulgence when I first bought it but considering what is stored inside, the piece has proven to be a worthwhile investment.
You see, ten years ago I wrote down the names, occupations, strengths, and weaknesses of 365 book boyfriends. Discovering the identity of the next book boyfriend is how every new novel begins.
I hand the box to Lisa who shakes it thoroughly and sets it down in the center of the table. I then retrieve my key, unlock the box, and pull out a small folded square of paper. Lisa reads the description of the next book boyfriend out loud. We finish our coffee as I rattle off ideas focusing primarily on the main character and the freshly chosen beau. I sort out how and where the characters might meet for the first time while Lisa keeps track of where I’m going with the story.
I write the first three chapters of the novel along with any random notes that might be useful down the road. I have always finished this step by December 20th. After I put those initial chapters away I am officially on holiday break. I will not return to the project until Christmas and New Year's festivities are over and Phoebe has returned to school.
I dived in without
hesitation this year determined not to let the stock boy at The Naked
Ankle’s prediction become a reality. Once I was left alone in my office with Book Boyfriend 11 and my thoughts, things began going downhill quickly.
The deeply loved jr. high school principal didn’t make it further than the prologue. 365 words.
For the first time in a decade, I had to find another candidate. The sheriff with the heart of gold who fostered at-risk kids didn’t do much more for me than give me a tension headache. I pushed through, working on his story throughout the morning and once again crapped out at 365. Chapter 3- paragraph 6 – word 5 to be exact.
I didn't want to panic but clearly something was wrong. This was a new kind of problem for me. New kinds of problems need new solutions. I wasn’t about to give permission to the memory of what happened in that bookstore to live in my head and pitch a tent. A stranger’s prediction was not going to control my future. I called Lisa into my office and asked her to make some last minute changes to my plans for the coming month.
Twenty-four hours later I found myself driving very slowly through freshly fallen snow as a trail of cars followed close behind.
“Turn right...” The automated voice instructed.
I flipped my turn signal and looked to the right, finding nothing but a ditch. “That can’t be right.” I turned the signal off and continued forward.
“...in 2.2 miles.”
“Now you tell me.” I looked at the odometer attempting to anticipate what 2.2 miles down the road might look like as a long string of cars, trucks, and all terrain vehicles passed me. Many rolled their windows down screaming insults, profanities, or to quietly flip me the bird as they passed by. Although I couldn’t make out their exact words, the content of their messages was clear. I quietly wished them a nice day and wobbly table legs for the remainder of their holiday season.
“Turn right here.” My GPS instructed.
“Finally.” I said turning down a narrow road.
“Continue West for 2.6 miles.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I continued driving until I ran out of road. Sitting before me was a beautiful two story log home.
“You have reached your destination.”
“Nice.”
The drive and entry were well lit. I parked in front of the steps and pulled up the information Lisa had sent to my phone.
Mr. McKinley will be meeting you at three pm.
I looked at the remnants of the setting sun and quickly darkening sky. It was definitely after 3, I didn't see any other cars on the property.
It’s after 4:30 and I’ve only just arrived. No one else is here. I texted back before looking around until I spotted something taped to the front door.
I may have found something, just a sec. I climbed out of my all wheel drive rental and retrieved the note.
I waited as long as I could, had to get back home. The key is under the mat. There’s information on the dining table. Read It. Follow All Instructions. I’ll stop by in the morning to see how things are going and answer your questions. If you have an emergency dial 9-1-1 they’ll patch you through. -- B. McKinley
“Patch me through to who?”
My phone beeped at me. Jess?
I’m okay Lisa. The owner left a note. I found the key.
I went inside and stood in one spot while my insides adjusted. The entrance led to a great room with a beautifully decorated tree. The central feature of the room, a large stone fireplace, stood on the far wall next to the stairs. A long couch, perfect for relaxing, sat across from the hearth. Large windows took up most of a wall directly opposite of the Christmas tree. Despite the success of the books, I still had a habit of living below my means. Wow. This was something. Morning coffee at home would never be the same after this. I turned on lights, continuing my exploration.
There was a large rustic table between the great room and the kitchen. The kitchen was large and roomy. I could tell it had been designed with someone who loved cooking in mind. I found myself anticipating freshly cooked breakfasts and dinners. Some homemade bread. Perhaps even a batch or two of Christmas cookies.
I found a small bathroom located between the kitchen and a mud room with a door leading to a deck that ran parallel to the wall of windows in the great room. I dropped my bag on my way back through the great room, running upstairs like a child on Christmas morning.
There was a den at the top of the stairs with a low ceiling and a large screen something on the wall that felt dark and crowded. I closed the door on my way out and continued exploring. There were two bedrooms with a shared bathroom between them. They were inviting but not what I was looking for. I continued exploring until I found the master bedroom.
It was a suite. The large bed sat opposite a smaller, more intimate looking stone fireplace. The private bath included both a shower and a soaking tub. There was a comfortable chair near the bed for reading. An antique writing desk with a matching chair had been placed next to a large window that I suspected would display another amazing view. I spinned around the room throwing myself on to the bed, wondering why I always insisted on spending the holidays at home.
“If I had a coffee maker in here and some snacks I wouldn’t have to leave this room at all.”
I checked my pockets looking for my phone and called Lisa. “I’m calling about the house.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for setting this trip up. It’s perfect.”
“Don’t thank me. All those book boyfriends you keep writing about are the ones who made it possible.”
“You found the house and took care of the details.”
There was a pause before Lisa answered. “I was kind of nervous about it actually. Phoebe insisted it was the house you needed.”
“She was right. Is she home?”
“No, she’s sleeping over at her friend Amy’s.”
“Sleep overs. I didn’t realize Phoebe was old enough for those.”
“They grow up so fast.” Lisa said.
“I hope you’re enjoying some time to yourself.”
“Brent will be home in a few minutes.”
“Have a nice evening. Thank Phoebe for me.”
“I will.”
Morning came early. I was ready for it. The sky was just beginning to show signs of the coming dawn when I began my morning stretch. I got my exercise routine over with quickly. By the time the coffee maker was releasing its final drops of goodness I was standing in the kitchen with my coat thrown over my workout clothes, snow boots covering my bare feet, holding a waiting mug in hand.
After pouring the coffee, I grabbed the house key (just in case), took my coffee out to the porch, and proceeded to drink in all the mountainous beauty while I savored my first morning cup.
I noticed something moving in my peripheral vision. A bear had wandered up the slope and was sitting a few feet from the porch. I watched him for a few moments. He looked up and saw me. The bear took a step closer to the porch. I quietly took two steps closer to the door. I waited several seconds and took two more steps in the direction of the door. It was not long before the bear took an interest in a pair of trash cans next to the garage and began to wander off. I decided it was best to go back inside while the bear was otherwise occupied. Before I could turn for the door a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and started pulling.
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