“They barely spoke two words to Janie the entire time. Having such a young step-mother probably doesn’t sit well with them. I wonder whether she’ll inherit everything.”
“I’m sure Shepp provided for his children. After all, they’re still in school.”
“I’m just saying – the bulk of the estate will go to her. And from where I stand, she’s not entirely lost in grief.” Val pulled into a quiet neighbourhood and parked on the street. “Here we are.”
“What a lovely house!” Carmen said, studying the expanse of landscaping that led to the sprawling, white stuccoed building.
**
Through the living room window, Janie watched the women approach. She pulled her shoulders up, reminding herself to show a friendly smile. She’d never been fond of Val. On the other hand, Carmen was nice enough.
“Come in,” Janie said. “Such a nice day. I was working in the garden this morning. What brings you ladies to my neck of the woods?”
“Actually, Janie,” Val said, “we came to ask you a favour.”
“And you came all this way? I’m glad. It gives us a chance to visit. How do you like your coffee?”
“That smells wonderful, Janie,” Carmen said. “Cream and sugar, please.”
“Black for me,” Val said.
The three women sat in a breakfast nook off Janie’s marble-finished kitchen.
“I’ve never seen your place,” Carmen said. “It’s really nice.”
“Thank you. Shepp built it for Angie, of course. Everything was to her taste, but I have to admit, I’m fond of it. She had a decorator’s touch.”
“You’ve probably added your own style over the years.”
“Not really. A blanket here, a picture there – that’s about it. Kind of strange, really, settling into another woman’s surroundings. But my focus has always been my writing, so it’s worked out well in that way.”
“Actually,” Val said, “that’s why we’re here. The annual CanLit Conference is coming up. We need a guest of honour and we’re hoping you’ll agree…”
“Me? I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say. Thank you. But that’s in July, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We wanted to ask you sooner, but with Shepp so sick – we’ll understand if it’s too short notice.”
“No, it isn’t that. It’s just that it’s so soon after… I don’t know…”
“We have a couple of other names we can try,” Carmen said. “We were really hoping for you, though.”
“I’m deeply honoured. That’s still two months away – plenty of time for this old hack to pull herself together. I’ll do it. You must have been worried, not having the spot filled on the program.”
“Frankly, we spoke to Mel Hanson a while ago. He was ready to step up if we couldn’t get you. We’ll ask him to MC the event instead.”
“This is entirely unexpected and so kind of you. I’ll be honoured to accept.”
“It’s settled, then,” Carmen said. “We’ll add you to the program right away. Can we trouble you to throw together a bio, about a hundred words?”
“Of course. I’ll email it to you tonight.”
“And we’ll need five hundred words on Thieves In The Afternoon,” Val said. “You know, the creative process, the idea, that sort of thing.”
Janie stared into her coffee mug. That book had taken eight long years to write, edit and revise. Dark years of sick obsession, lost in the literary dance of pathos and Eros, good and evil, the seemingly endless struggle to create something real.
Hungry years of scrimping, barely able to pay the rent on her meagre salary from the bookstore, pouring every waking moment into an effort with no reason to expect a payoff. Few friends, no social life, no love…
Then two more years given over to the hopeless attempt to break into a market that was too small, too closed to allow for entry by an ‘unknown’.
In the end, it was only Shepp’s connections that brought her work to light. He helped her find a publisher. His name gave her exposure. For this she would always be grateful.
“That’ll take a bit longer,” she said. “How soon do you need it?”
“Can you do it by Wednesday?”
“I can send it tomorrow, if you like.”
“Perfect,” Carmen said. “Now we can talk about other things. How are you holding up?”
“I’m ok,” Janie said. “The service went well. Shepp would have been proud. The kids headed back to residence right afterwards. Their semester is wrapping up. They have exams.”
“They seem like nice kids,” Val said.
“Yes,” Janie agreed. “Shepp and Angie did a good job with them.”
“You did a good job, too,” Carmen said. “I hope they appreciate you.”
“I often think I could have done more. But they were already in their teens when I came into the picture. They have their own ideas. We’re not as close as I'd like.”
“I’m sure they’ll come around,” Carmen said. “It’s this entire generation. They aren’t maturing as early as we did. Eventually they’ll realise how much you’ve done for them.”
“I believe they will. It’s just that they’re so busy now, with exams and all.”
“Well,” Val said, “I have a meeting this afternoon. Thank you for the coffee, Janie. And thank you for saving our bacon on the conference. We were counting on you.”
“That’s right,” Carmen said. “We’ve been keeping our fingers crossed. I’m glad it all worked out. If there’s anything we can do to make it easier for you, just let us know.”
“Don’t worry,” Janie said. “This is the shot in the arm I needed after everything with Shepp. There is no better validation of one’s work than being honoured by one’s peers.”
**
Val unlocked the car doors and tossed her purse into the back seat. The two women were quiet as they pulled away from the house.
When they turned onto the main street, Carmen broke the silence.
“I hate to say it,” she said, “but that was strange.”
“I told you so,” Val said. “Even the kids couldn’t wait to get away from her. Not a flicker of emotion – very cold.”
“Maybe it hasn’t hit her yet,” Carmen said. “Maybe she hasn’t faced it that he’s really gone.”
“Maybe, but she didn’t think twice about the ‘guest of honour’ slot. Anything to further the career and image.”
“Do you regret asking her?”
“Not at all,” Val said. “I’m as mercenary as the next gal. We need a big name and Janie’s about as big as it gets. Shepp’s death adds to the mystique, if you know what I mean.”
“Mm-hmm,” Carmen nodded. She wasn’t comfortable with Val’s harsh judgement of Janie, but she had to admit, there was something odd about the woman. Like everyone, Carmen had her own ideas about grief. Janie just didn’t fit the bill.
**
Janie watched the women drive away. She sighed. Her smile fell away like the lace of the curtain, leaving her face dark and drawn.
They were good women, she thought. So kind. And such an honour. They must have been nervous, holding the position of guest of honour open so long. How could she refuse, under the circumstances?
Thieves In The Afternoon was a runaway success, riding the New York Times bestseller list for months during the previous year. Excellent marketing by the publisher Shepp had lined up for her, coupled with relentless interviews and appearances on her part had lifted it above the rest.
Shepp would not allow her to give up. Throughout his long illness, he kept reminding her she deserved success.
What did any of it mean without Shepp? Ahead of her stretched only loneliness, more decades of writing in a void. Her heart was empty, drained from all those years of pouring its contents onto the page, rinsed clean by grief that no one else would see.
Even Shepp’s children had deserted her. They’d never accepted her, but if Shepp had lived long enough, eventually they would have come around
. Now it was too late.
Janie reached into the kitchen cupboard and removed a handful of tiny bottles she’d been accumulating for the past few months. She lined them up on the counter, touching the lids lovingly.
She paused for a moment, still unsure. That very morning she’d planned to swallow them all and end this misery. Now, though, Val and Carmen had come into her kitchen bearing a gift – the gift of kindness. The gift of respect for her efforts.
The gift of friendship.
Maybe these things were enough to live for. Maybe friendship could carry her past this sense of hopelessness.
She would invite the children to the ceremony. That might open the door to bring them closer.
Carefully she removed the lids from each of the bottles. She poured the contents into a bowl and carried them to the bathroom. She didn’t dare leave them in the cupboard, where they might present temptation on another day.
Janie dumped the pills and flushed them away.
She had work to do.
About the author
Donna Carrick grew up in Canada’s military and now resides in Southern Ontario with her husband Alex and their three children. Along with their beloved family pets, the Carricks spend most of their free time in Ontario’s North Country. The First Excellence draws on their own experience in adopting a child from China.
Other titles by Donna Carrick
The First Excellence ~ Fa-ling’s Map
Winner of the 2011 Indie Book Event Award
What happens when East bleeds into West?
Gold And Fishes
International Thriller
What comes first: family, or the family of man?
The Noon God
Mystery/suspense
Living in the shadow of greatness can be difficult….
Sept-Îles and other places
A Toboggan Mystery Anthology
Five chilling tales of the North….
Connect with me Online
At Twitter: @Donna_Carrick
My Amazon Author page
My FaceBook page
http://www.donnacarrick.com/
Or at CarrickPublishing
LOGO DESIGN BY SARA CARRICK
Visit us at http://www.carrickpublishing.com/
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