My unusual story
about the ‘seed’ for Cézanne’s Ghost:
Strange to say,
but the woman who inspired me to write Cézanne’s
Ghost is not someone I know. My train from Paris to Aix-en-Provence stopped
for a time at a station, giving passengers a few moments to step off their car
for a stretch or a smoke. I remained on the train, people-watching. A young
blonde woman, dressed in jeans, a cream-colored tunic, and a black cowboy hat
with a glittery gold hatband, caught my eye. I watched her interact with other
people for no more than four minutes, yet something about her jump-started a
riff in my imagination. Eventually, I named her Aline, the heroine of Cézanne’s Ghost.
I already told you
about how I ‘found’ a picture of Aline:
Jeff Haines, is
the artist I contacted because I wanted to put one of his sketches on the front
of Cézanne’s Ghost. When we first talked on e-mail, he said
he hadn’t worked with a novelist who wanted cover art before. Basically, he does custom drawings. The price he gave me was impossible for me to
pay, so I passed on the picture. But I
liked the picture so much, I decided to contact him again and negotiate. I explained to him how I would use the
picture and how authors like me are selling very few books. He said he liked the artist-to-artist
relationship and gave me I price I could pay.
So here’s a
description of Aline from Cézanne’s Ghost:
The moment Leon saw
her, framed by the doorway of the airport express bus, his inclination was to
rush to the opening, push her backward, signal the driver to close the door,
and wave the shuttle out of the dock.
“She can’t be
mine. Don’t let her be mine,” he begged under his breath, while his heartbeat
kicked up a notch, warning: She’s yours,
Leon. She’s your tourist.
The woman hoisted
a backpack, hopped off the bus, and walked his way, eyes focused on the sign he
held, with ‘Aline Kerig,’ printed on it. She was a ghost sauntering toward him;
how could he muster a welcome?
“Leon Beaudet. My
guide.”
Though she
vocalized the silent ‘t’ at the end of his French name, like most Americans
would, he answered in French: “Bienvenue
à Aix-en-Provence.”
Aline blinked away
the greeting. “I speak no French, but back at ya.” She raised her black cowboy
hat, and ran appraising eyes from his hair down to his boat shoes. “Trip
Advisor did not lie. You even look like
a heavyweight wrestler.” She cozied up close and smiled up at him, “Hell you
make me look downright petite.”
A half smile for politeness, a step
back, then: “Uh-leen,” he said, pronouncing carefully. “As in Aline, the name
chosen for Cézanne’s granddaughter.”
She nodded.
“Good handle in
Aix-en-Provence since this was the artist’s favorite haunt.” He paused for a
response. When Aline gave him a big-deal look, he said, “Let’s get your bags.”
They waited in
silence while passengers arriving from the Aix airport hauled luggage from the
belly of the bus. She fiddled with her nose ring and brought a finger to the
brilliant decorations on her ear, five silver studs. Six on the other lobe.
“I travel light.
Backpack and carry-on.”
“Smart,” he said.
When she pushed
down her black hat, gilded with a gold band, her straight blond hair lengthened
to her shoulder. “I know how to travel. First time on a European tour, though.”
She clicked her tongue in a way that was sexual as well as cautionary. “Hope
you’re as good as Trip Advisor says.”
Leon’s chest
tightened with the click and the flirty tone.
Aline stepped up to the bus to
claim her black roll-on, and Leon observed her stylish ripped jeans and
flip-flops, cardboard-thin. Red tank top; braless. While Leon wore a zipped
jacket over a polo shirt and khaki pants in the fifty-five degree morning,
Aline Kerig dressed for the beach.
***
Yup, Aline is
going to be a handful. Get ready for
some surprises in Cézanne’s Ghost. What's the last thing that surprised you in conjuring a story?
Only a couple
weeks of waiting and you’ll be able to read the novel. Until then, here’s my most recent release:
BAD LIES http://a.co/0DuYNPn:
Italy’s haunted
caves spell danger for an American golfer and a NATO geologist
****
Sophie Maxwell is a late-blooming, unorthodox golfer, and mother
of a precocious thirteen year-old. Determined to put divorce, bankruptcy, and a
penchant for gambling in her past, Sophie goes to Italy for a qualifying golf
tournament.
Jack Walker turned his back on a pro golfing career to become a
geologist. As a favor to his ailing father he’ll caddy for Sophie; off hours,
he’ll find caves on the Mediterranean coast, suitable for NATO listening posts
for terrorist activity.
Someone is determined to stop Jack’s underground hunt and ruin
Sophie’s chances to win her tournament.
On a Rome golf course and in the Amalfi coast’s haunted caves, all
the odds are stacked against Sophie and Jack. In their gamble of a
lifetime, who wins?
Seven Suspense Novels Spiked with Romance
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