Let's recap from the first of March.
Issue #1: I was facing a court issue. After shuddering at the thought of going to court to take care of a frustrated competitor of my answering service, I found that I didn't have to go myself. My attorney said he would be going and I could remain at home, fretting. He told me not to worry but I decided that fretting would be a good focus for my time. It's in my nature.
Outcome: He went. I stayed home. That was two days ago and I'm still wondering what happened. I didn't get any indication that I have to close my business so we are taking it that no news is good news. I do so wish the attorney would let me know what happened though. I guess there is a chance he is still stuck in Los Angeles traffic. It gets pretty bad at times.
Issue #2: The imminent release of my nineth book, Day Labor.
Outcome: And still I wait. I've not heard from the editor again so I suppose we are still in limbo at this time. No cover art has been yet offered, either. I know what it takes to get a book edited and properly "dressed" for it's first public appearance, so I will wait. I'll spend any free time I have (though that is not much) working on another book, another crocheted afghan for my store, another list of prospects for my answering service. Day Labor will come in it's own sweet time.
Issue #3: Jen's 21's birthday.
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| Nick and Jen at a banquet 2010 |
I'll probably opt for the gaming cards. Less worry involved, not to mention cost. I'll know where my baby is, sitting in her room on her computer, emailing back and forth with the love interest, and working in my stores during the day. I dread the day she leaves me. Really. I do. Just don't tell her!
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In the hopes that it won't be too much longer, I've decided to post the opening for "Day Labor". This is unedited so please forgive any typos, etc.
Mark
Langston stood in the doorway to the Chief of Detectives, Grant Langston's
office. Grant took his time in responding to Mark's knock. Obviously annoyed,
he tossed down his pen and leaned back in his large leather chair as Mark
entered and closed the door.
"What
do you want?" As usual, Grant showed no pleasure at seeing Mark.
Mark
pulled an envelope from his pocket. He held it up, and crossed the plush carpet
in the large office. As he reached the mahogany monster of a desk, he tossed it
onto the surface, and watched it slid to a stop at the edge of the blotter.
"I want an explanation."
Grant
didn't look at the envelope. His gaze locked instead on Mark, his jaw clenched
and released before he spoke. "Now that you're married, I wanted you to
know that you will receive nothing from my estate in case of my death. You have
no part in my will. Just so you can let that new wife of yours know it."
"Why
would Beth care? She has her own money. She doesn't care about yours."
Mark burned with anger at the insinuation. Beth had more money than Grant
Langston ever dreamed of having.
"So
my name and my status didn't get you a bride? Congratulations." Grant
commented in bored monotone.
Mark
slammed his hand on the desk as he leaned toward his father. "I've done
everything I could my entire life to please you. I've worked my ass off through
school and college to be the son you'd be proud of. I've solved several cases
that were beyond anything even you've ever handled. Now, after one of my
greatest successes, I get this letter. What kind of a father are you that you’d
expend so much energy hating your son?"
Grant
carefully weighed his words before he let them spill from his lips. "The
kind of father who only has a daughter." He smirked, and rocked back in
his chair, his trained eyes watching Mark's face for a reaction.
Mark
felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. "What are you saying?" He
knew damned well what was said but couldn't wrap his mind around the words, or
believe them. Not after thirty-five years. Why wouldn't Grant, or at least his
mother, have told him before?
"You’re
the fancy detective. Figure it out." Grant leaned his forearms on his
desk, and continued before Mark could respond. "Do you recall a local
incident some thirty-six years ago. A criminal was shot during a home invasion.
You probably read the case file when you studied local issues."
"The
man was into pornography and drugs." Mark thought back to the case.
"Rape, too, I believe."
Grant
nodded and clapped his hands with sarcasm. "He gets the gold star."
"What?
Rape?"
Grant
folded his hands on the desk. "The man had taken a gun from the home
office and attempted to shoot the homeowner when he walked in on him. It was a
cut and dried case of self-defense."
"What's
that got to do with rape?" Mark was confused. He saw by the look on
Grant's face that the older man took pleasure in traveling the long road to
where he was going.
"What
the report didn't say – because it was covered up – was that the bastard raped
the man's wife. That woman was your mother and that bastard that I took great pleasure
in shooting was your father. I don't think he left you anything in his will
either."
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Thankfully, there is no new madness. I can handle what I have now. I hope this month finishes out on a good note. I know it will be wonderful celebrating Jen's birthday followed by Steve's birthday on April 1st. I know that "Day Labor" will find it's way to a release date. And with God's blessings, all will be fine.
Cheers!
Jena
Check out my back-list at Whiskey Creek Press and Red Rose Publishing.
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