I am a writer and teacher living in Lake County, California. Here you will find my published writing as well as upcoming workshops which I will be offering at the Lake County Arts Council. By day, I work at Kelseyville High School as a Resource Specialist. Weekends, I write stories and enjoy time with my family on a quiet acre of oak trees.
Excerpts of latest stories
From Too Much Truth
The headmaster gazed at his thumbnail. His name was Mortimer Alston--quite a regal name, I’d always thought, but the man had never measured up. Surrounding us, the soft butterscotch leather and beige walls of his office. I crossed my legs. All polish and no shine, my mother used to say, often referring to our neighbor, Mrs. Harrington, who wore heels and diamonds retrieving the newspaper in the mornings.
Headmaster Alston continued to be enraptured by his thumbnail. Clearly, he was not going to speak. Hedging his bets. Playing his cards. Stonewalling. Mixed metaphors. All mixed.
“Mr. Alston, what did Mrs. Kennedy say? I have spoken to her nearly a dozen times since the beginning of school and cannot see--”
“She is concerned about Luke’s grades, Mrs. Weatherstone--”
“My name is Ms. Weatherstone. Not Mrs.” I paused. “Mrs. Weatherstone is my mother’s name. I am not married to my father.”
He folded his hands. “I see. Yes. Yes, of course.” About his cheeks, a spread of pink. Clearly, his mind had gone into all the wrong places....
From Burning Hearts
If anyone thought to ask, I never agreed to marry him. That was something my mother agreed to, without my permission. Probably natural for her since I was eighteen. But the truth? Mom fell for Gregory. Not me. Wasn’t surprising, with her romantic nature and the moles on her face. Mom was never pretty. Lots of people had told me, as small town folk are like to do. “But you, Rose,” they always said, “now you’re different.”
“So Miss Wonderful, you graduate in two months. Think you’ll finally say yes?” Mom called me Miss Wonderful when she thought I was being high and mighty, which was most of the time. “Prince Charming isn’t going to hang around forever.”
Gregory had been proposing to me since we were sixteen. Not that he proposed exactly. More like, When you and I get married... To him, I was a sure thing, like rain in December.
“Gregory’s no Prince Charming, Mom.” Last week, after I’d refused his engagement ring, he peeled off in his Mustang, leaving me to walk two miles back home in the dark. Diamonds. A girl’s best friend. Huh...