Tomorrow, on the new moon, my latest masterpiece goes live on Amazon.
I am trying not to hold my breath, hard to do when you are repeatably wishing it all the luck in the world, but I have everything crossed, just in case.
I thought I would introduce you to the stars of the show, and include an excerpt.
Excerpt from The Mystery of Folly’s End
Across the table from me, Charlie was being cautious, only asking safe questions, none of which I had answers for. I couldn’t tell if she believed me; her face gave nothing away. The coffee had long gone cold, so I decided to make more. I had barely stood up, the coffee mugs in my hand, when she spoke, her voice harsh.
‘Where are you going?’
Judging from the expression on her face, she was on the verge of being very angry. I waved the mugs at her. ‘I need a drink, and coffee is the only poison around here…’ I didn’t finish the sentence. I felt her eyes on my back as I walked to the kettle.
The relief I felt when she arrived was fading fast; there was nothing she could do to help me, and we were possibly heading for the granddaddy of all rows. When I came and sat back down after making the coffee, I knew I should just tell her to go home. She probably wouldn’t, but I said it anyway.
The pause that followed seemed weird. Just for a moment, I thought she would stand up and leave. Her face gave nothing away, and she wasn’t looking at me. This triggered my temper, and I wanted to throw my coffee all over her. Just when that impulse had grown impossible to ignore, she looked at me.
‘Why are you always such a bitch, Angie?’
I didn’t know what to say to that. My bitchiness was legendary, as I’m sure she remembered. I toyed with my coffee, still tempted to throw it across the room.
‘I wouldn’t throw that…’
‘Why not? What will happen if I do?’
‘You might get that punch in the face that I owe you.’
‘I thought you’d gotten over that; it’s been a while.’
‘You don’t get over having the love of your life stolen.’
I snorted. I couldn’t help it. ‘As it happens, Tom wasn’t worth the trouble, sis.’
She stared at me, obviously hating the sight of me. Her hands, gripping the coffee mug, were bone white with the pressure. All the air in the kitchen seemed to have been sucked out.
‘Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
Her hands left the mug and vanished under the table, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.
‘We’re not going to get anywhere like this,’ she said and waited for me to agree.
In the absence of alcohol, I didn’t feel like talking. If I was honest, I wanted to die…
and for one week, reduced to .99 !
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