I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t expecting below freezing temperatures this time of year down here in the American Southeast. Last week we had highs around 80 degrees outside with night time temperatures in the 50’s. So yesterday’s high in the low 50’s followed by below freezing temperatures was a shock to my system.
And then there were the tomato plants we set out, thinking warm weather had arrived. I managed to get them dug back out of the garden, put into pots, and back in the greenhouse before the chill hit. With any luck they’ll survive all the disruption.
So what am I doing as far as writing?
LADY CALLOWAY
I’ve finally figured out how to wrap it up, which has been my hold up on this particular project. The lady is being quite obstinate about cooperating with me.
Not that her husband is any better.
However, with a little luck, Lady Calloway should be finished by the end of next week. Unless she decides to pull another stunt I’m not expecting.
In the meantime, my editor is looking over the next book in the Esperance series–Too Many Talents. This story picks up right after Viviane, First Lady, continuing Viviane’s story and bringing in the new heir of Clan Belfort–a little boy of almost 11, who is not necessarily happy about it.
While it seems having paranormal Talents would be fun, getting a handle on them can be quite a pain. Just ask Viviane and Connell.
Want a bit of a peek?
TOO MANY TALENTS–
Viviane–First Lady of Clan Brannach
“Viviane, Duncan is worried about you and has me worried, too.”
“Worried? Whatever for?” she asked.
“I know how you feel about your Talents, but hiding from them isn’t the answer. And neither is running away and pretending they don’t exist. Duncan and I feel the loss of control you are experiencing is coming from something besides the porting aspect of your Talents.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Jareth,” she answered sharply.
“Yes, you do, Viviane. Since we’ve been home you’ve been resisting your Talents, and fighting them, especially during training. They will win in the end. In the meantime your control will get worse and worse, until it is manifesting more unpredictably, even when you’re not working with it. With the strengths you have, you will hurt someone, while trying to deny your heritage.”
“But Jareth…”
“Your Talents have to be trained,” he stated emphatically. “There is no escape from it. You have to let go of your fears and put your entire will into your training. It’s the only way to gain control before you do irreparable harm.”
“I don’t want these Talents, Jareth! I never have! Why won’t they go away and leave me alone?”
“We may never know the answer as to why they developed, but since they have, you must treat them responsibly. You wouldn’t hand a child a live blade and expect him to use it properly, would you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Your Talents are exponentially more dangerous than the deadliest blade ever forged. Just as it would be irresponsible to hand a child a sword and let him run through the house with it, chasing the staff, and playing guard, it is ever so much more dangerous to have you, with so much untrained Talent, manifesting uncontrolled.”
Connell, Heir of Belfort
“But Mom, why do I have to go live with Grandpa? I want to stay here with you,” Connell complained for the hundredth time.
“You know why, young man,” his mother scolded. “And as soon as your father and I can take care of everything here, we’ll join you.”
“But how long will that be?” he asked, rolling his blue eyes at her. “I don’t know why we have to go anyway. I don’t want to be First Lord.”
“Now that is enough. We don’t have time for this. You’re ten years old and you know better.”
“I’m almost eleven,” he countered.
“Then start acting like it,” his mother snapped, exasperation beginning to show.
“But what about all my friends? I won’t have any friends there,” he continued.
“I’m sure you’ll make new friends.”
“But I like my old ones.”
“Connell, find something to do besides complain, or I’ll find something for you to do.”
“Fine!”
The little boy of almost eleven spun on his heel and ran out the door. Arriving at his favorite spot by the stream, he dropped down onto a large gray boulder and fought back the tears. No, he would not cry. Selecting a flat stone from the bank, he skipped it expertly across the water.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there before he heard someone behind him.
“Connell? Can I sit with you?”
Great! The voice could only be little Nell. She was all right for a girl, but, well, she was a girl. And she was always trying to help him with whatever he was doing. Two years younger than he was, they’d grown up together in the village, and he’d always liked her, even though she could be annoying.
“I guess. Sure,” he answered with a sigh.
He turned to give the little blonde, blue-eyed girl a hand so she wouldn’t slip on the bank. Once seated on the rock bench, she smoothed her flowered frock down over her knees.
“What are you doing down here? I thought you guys were moving.”
“Mom’s mad and told me to find something to do. So I came down to skip stones.”
“I could never do that. Can you show me?”
Even if she was a girl, Nell took his mind away from his problems. They skipped stones until the light began to fade.
“We should probably go back, Nell,” he told the little girl. “Mom was mad before I came down here. If I’m too late getting back, it won’t help anything.”
“Will I see you before you go, Connell?” she asked.
“I guess. We’ll be here a few days yet, and anyway, I’ll come back sometimes.”
“Can I still be your friend when you’re First Lord?”
“Of course. Why couldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I just wondered. Thanks, Connell.”
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