Down on Love
Page 32
“Forcing me to commit a crime,” Sera grumbled, but she was smiling as she wielded the screwdriver pretty deftly. “I’m not sure I want your kind marrying my sister, Bowen.”
“I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Well, it seems inevitable, and if it is, you’d better get on it. That way we can have a nice, quick ceremony in the town hall before you’re both shipped off to prison.”
In minutes, the letters D, E, and N were once again off the sign. George took out her cell phone and took a picture of the vandals, each with a letter in hand, then Casey took a photo of her standing next to the sign that read, for the second time in two decades, “Welcome to Mars.” Before they left, George took one more photo, of just the sign.
She smiled conspiratorially at Casey. “Got plans for that one.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Exactly. Plausible deniability is your friend.”
Hello, DoLlies! Yeah, yeah. I know. But it had to be done sooner or later, and there’s no time like the present, because . . . well, all good things must come to an end, including blogs. It’s time for Down on Love to shut its doors.
I hear your weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth through the intertubes, and my heart aches to lose you all. I’ve had a wonderful time over the past year, but I have to be honest: I can no longer run this blog, because I am no longer down on love. I have found the love of my life, and I’m well and truly happy. I don’t believe any longer that all relationships will end badly. Yes, I’ve gone through my fair share of bad relationships and worse breakups, and I know you have as well, but now I believe everyone can find love if it’s what they really want. I think all those disasters are good for us, in a way. They shape us, they teach us—they show us what’s not a good relationship so we can raise our standards and demand better.
I have better, now. His name is Casey, and he’s a really, really good guy. A great guy. The best. And so, because I am so filled with happiness and optimism, which have no place at DoL, it’s time to move on.
Speaking of moving, I am also moving back to my hometown permanently, to be with Casey (and maybe make some pies to sell at his pumpkin and Christmas tree farm), and to be closer to my family—my sister, her wife, and their adorable baby, as well as my parents, whenever (if ever?) they wrap up their never-ending road trip across the United States. (If you see them in their RV, tell them we’re looking for them, and they’re missing out on some primo granddaughter milestones.)
However, I am not disappearing off the Internet entirely. Please join me at my new blog, Life in Mars, where I’ll be chronicling the daily adventures of living in a wackadoodle town—and trying to keep my neighbors out of my business, which is darn near impossible. LifeInMars.blogblarg.com is up and running right now, although it’s a bit sparse, since I just got started, but I would make many happy noises if you dropped by to say hi, put it in your list of favorites and on your blog roll, and visited often.
It’s been fun, DoLlies. I wish you happiness, I wish you luck, and most of all I wish you true love.
Big sloppy kisses,
George
George read over her last Down on Love post, then hit the “publish” button. She really did feel a little melancholy over the ending of her first blog. It had connected her with so many people, and they’d bonded, albeit virtually, over the toughest of tribulations—love gone bad. She sighed, patted the top of her screen, and switched over to her new blog, which she had put up just the day before.
“Life in Mars indeed,” she murmured to Casey’s empty office, where she was camped out at his desk. But there was no hesitation, no fear. This was where she belonged. If she was going to live here, she was certainly going to milk it for as much entertainment value as she could get out of it. And it was a pretty good method of checks and balances, if she did say so herself: If her neighbors kept out of her way, she wouldn’t use them as blog fodder. Simple.
George was chuckling quietly and tweaking a few things on her new blog when she heard the house phone ring. Casey picked up the handset on the table in the front hallway. A warm feeling spread through her at the sound of his voice. She had Casey. After all these years. It seemed almost impossible to believe, but it was real. And really fantastic.
“Goose!” Casey shouted, his voice echoing in the still half-empty house. She was going to have fun decking the place out before spring, when some corporate meetings were already booked.
“What?” she called back.
“Phone call for you. It’s Will.”
“Officer Billy?” She froze. “What does he want?”
“Something about a photo of the vandalized town sign on your new blog . . . ?”
Instead of picking up the extension in the office, she rounded the desk and flew out of the office, down the hall, and into the foyer. She barreled into Casey and wrapped her arms around him. He grinned and kissed her.
“Should we throw ourselves on the mercy of the court?” she whispered. “Or should I blackmail him with pictures of him in footie pajamas?”
“Recent ones?”
She rolled her eyes. “Gimme the phone.” Into the handset, she said, “Officer Billy!”
“Will.”
“Right. I hear your concerns. Let’s talk about them, neighbor to neighbor . . .”
The Best Apple Pie in the World Recipe
George’s pies are made with the most amazing recipe that I learned in high school home ec. The class was taught by Sister of Mercy Sr. Mary Dismas. She ruled. How many other people do you know who could teach students how to bake, how to sew, and how to slaughter the New York State Regents exam in geometry, all with equal (fantastic) success? (Plus, when she was a missionary, she hung with cannibals. She always had great stories.) Anyway, I’ve been using this recipe for many, many years. It truly is the best.
CRUST
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
cup + 1 tablespoon shortening
¼ cup cold water
FILLING
¾ cup sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon flour
6 cups apples, peeled and sliced thin
Several pats of butter
Fluff flour with a fork, then lightly scoop into the measuring cup (do not pack) until overflowing. Skim off the excess till the flour is level with the top edge of the measuring cup. In a large mixing bowl, mix flour and salt together with a fork. Cut shortening into flour with a pastry cutter. Sprinkle on water a little bit at a time. Mix first with fork, then hands. Press into a ball. You might want to refrigerate it overnight, but you don’t have to. Cut ball approximately in half—the half used for the bottom crust should be slightly larger. Knead the half to roll out for the bottom a bit, adding a little flour if it’s too sticky. Roll the bottom crust and place in a pie tin.
Mix sugar, cinnamon, and flour together. Pour about three-quarters of the mixture over the apple slices in a large bowl and mix to coat the apple slices. Arrange the filling evenly in the bottom crust and sprinkle the rest of the sugar and cinnamon mix on top. Place pats of butter on the filling. Knead and roll out the top crust and place it carefully over the apple mixture, crimp closed, and cut a vent. Bake at 425 degrees for almost an hour; check after 40 or 45 minutes to prevent overbaking.
eKENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Copyright © 2013 by Jayne Denker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-1-6018-3085-2
First Electronic Edition: November 2013
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