photo from Stencil-- a Class C motorhome
For the last month, I have been writing what will be a novella, the first of what I expect to be stories of women of a certain age beginning again when something unexpected pushes them out of their lives. As I plan now, these will be contemporary romances, but without the suspense I often have in my books because of their shorter length. That also means they'll not have the spice.
The first one is in the edit mode; so what you see for a snippet may not end up exactly as it will be when it comes out the first of November sometime-- date uncertain.
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A day
later, when he stopped by after work, her son said nothing as he listened to
her explain her plans. “You have to do what is best for you,” Peter said. “You
really sold our home?”
“It had
been our home, but after the divorce,
it was mine. Yes, I did. It sold for more than I had expected.”
“Enough
to buy an RV.”
She nodded. "And then some. I’ve
been researching what type.”
“Can I
ask how you got this crazy idea?”
Well, he
still hadn’t accused her of being crazy. “I was on Facebook and there are
groups there of those who travel full time with their RVs. I was interested,
learned a lot about the life, the problems, and felt I got to know some of them
through their blogs. At first, it was just a diversion but little by little I
realized I was jealous.”
He let
out a breath and stared at her thoughtfully. “I guess you’ve been responsible
about it.”
“I
haven’t gone looking yet.” She brought up her computer. “This a Class A, but I
see it as more than I need for just me. B looks too small for living year
round. C though is just right.” It sounded like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. She smiled. “It will be easy enough
to handle but still have kitchen, sofa, bedroom, bathroom.”
He smiled
and shook his head. “Diesel or gasoline?”
“What do
you think would be best?”
“Diesel
generally gets better mileage but harder to find it in some towns, especially
if you hit into the back country—if you plan to hit the back country.”
“I do.”
He shook his
head but grinned. “Okay then. You let us try out different things. I can hardly
try to talk you out of the same thing.” She showed him various model options
and he offered his opinions. “Want me to go with you?” he asked when he stood
at the door ready to leave.
“I don’t
think that’s necessary but if you want.”
He
grinned. “If you don’t think it is, I don’t either. I love you, Mom.”
They
hugged, and then he left with the boxes of photos. One worry she would not have
to fret over any longer. Those photos were more about Wendy and Peter growing
up than about her anyway.
