Nano Madness
Hi! I realize I haven’t been here in a while. First I went to Ohio, and then I had to rush on a project, and then Nano hit, and now, suddenly, with no warning at all, I come here to discover I haven’t posted in almost a month.
What a letdown.
Unfortunately, because I’m writing like a madwoman (a madwoman! 10,770 words in four days!) I’m completely tapped and have nothing to share with you.
Although I guess I could share the opening scene of the book I’m working on. It’ll be out, oh hell, either late 2008 or early 2009, and it’s tentatively titled WISH YOU WERE HERE. So, if you’re interested, click over the cut and check it out.
Freya Daly swatted at a fly buzzing by her head as her left stiletto tottered on the gravel under her feet. Dig that, she thought. Hell has a waiting room. Without moving her eyes away from the ancient log cabin in front of her, she pulled her cellphone out of her purse and hit speed dial.
“I’m here,” she said when her father answered.
“Good.” She could hear papers shuffling on his desk, and then the tell-tale rat-a-tat-tat of the keyboard as Richard Daly multi-tasked. “Tell me about it.”
She glanced around. “It’s a campground. Trees, dirt, cabins. The lady who checked me in told me they don’t have wireless internet access. Welcome to Deer Crap, Idaho.”
“Deer Creek,” he corrected quickly.
“Yeah, I know.” Freya put a hand to her forehead. It wasn’t that her father didn’t have a sense of humor. It just didn’t serve a practical purpose, so he rarely used it.
“I expect your full report by Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?” she said. “Dad, you can have my full report now. Brody Lake Campground and RV Park is six acres of trees and dirt and cabins in the middle of a town with no viable tourist trade, no real industry, and no identifiable nightlife. There’s nothing here. There’s no reason to buy this property, and I advised you against it before you even sent me out here. So, once again for those in the back, don’t buy this place. It’s a money pit. I’ll be on the next plane.”
“Tuesday,” he said, and hung up. Freya stared at the phone in her hand, then gently flipped it shut and put it back in her purse. She swallowed and closed her eyes tight against the tears waiting behind them, like an invading army ready to strike at any time. It wasn’t her father that was upsetting her, she knew that. In fact, nothing was upsetting her. She was not upset; she was Freya Daly, and Freya Daly didn’t get upset.
Something was just wrong with her eyes, that’s all.
“There we go,” she said as the heat behind her eyes simmered down. “That’s it. Totally under control.”
She squared her shoulders and picked up her leather Louis Vuitton suitcase – no way was she dragging that over Idaho dirt. Time to get to work. She walked carefully up the gravel path to the wooden steps of her cabin and tried to imagine what they could possibly do with this place. The name of the campground implied a lake; maybe they could stock it with trout, develop the place into a fishing lodge or something. She set her suitcase down on the porch, leaned against the railing, and stared out into the wooded landscape. In her mind, things started to develop. A lodge. An escape for the tired executive looking to get away. They’d have to tear down that dingy little snack shack/rental office, replace it with a log cabin lodge, complete with fireplace and bar. Maybe a gym and a steam room. The cabins were too old, too quaint; they’d have to go as well, replaced with larger-
“Don’t move.” The voice came from behind her, scaring the shit out of her, so she screamed and twirled around, immediately losing her balance on her stilettos and slamming backward into the railing. She heard a crack, felt the world whoosh around her, and then suddenly, she was dangling in mid-air. She looked up to see a man with dirty blonde hair, two-day stubble and sharp blue eyes hovering over her, one hand braced against the support post that held up the overhang, and the other hand fisted around the fabric of her jacket, which was now tight around her waist. Meanwhile, there Freya dangled, her toes barely holding onto the edge of the porch as her body leaned back at a 45-degree angle.
“Shit,” she said.
“Don’t move,” he said again. She felt a quick yank at her midsection and then she was flying up onto the safety of the porch where she bounced off the cabin and into an Adirondack chair, one leg dangling over the side, her skirt hiked up almost to There.
“Sorry,” he said, “You okay?”
Freya grunted and pulled her leg in, smoothing her skirt down. “Super. Thanks.”
“I was coming by to fix the railing, but I decided to check the tub faucet – it leaks a little. I would have put you in another cabin, but this is the best one we’ve got at the moment. Well, it was until…” He glanced down over the side of the porch at the broken pieces of railing and shook his head. “Damn. That was going to be an easy fix.”
“Yeah, well, this was silk.” She yanked at the front of her jacket, which was now crinkled beyond saving. She tried to push herself up off the chair, but as it turned out, Adirondack chairs were made for sitting, not getting up, and it took her a moment of awkward wrangling to get back on her feet. As soon as she was back on her feet, though, she felt her eyes starting to water.
Damnit.
“I need a cigarette,” she muttered.
“Oh, the cabins are non-smoking,” he said, “but if you walk down that path to the office, there’s a smoking area behind–”
She waved her hand at him. “I don’t smoke.” Anymore.
“Okay.” He let out a short laugh. “I’m Nate, by the way.”
“Nate?” Freya connected the name with the information her father had given her about Brody Lake. “Nathan Brody? This is your campground?”
His expression tightened and he said, “Yep. All mine.”
She watched him as he looked around at the rundown cabins, his expression noticeably void of any passion. Which was good. People who had a passion for their crapholes were hell to buy out, no matter what you offered. But this guy seemed like a reasonable type, the type who would sell his craphole happily for a decent price. Which could mean an easy sale, if her father wanted the place so bad. An easy, quick sale.
The kind of easy, quick sale that could have her back in the office on Monday.
At the thought of going home, Freya’s chest tightened and her cheeks heated up and–
Crap shit hell.
“You know what?” She turned to face the cabin and swiped under her eyes. “I think maybe I’d like to take a nap.”
“Okay. Sure.” He stepped past her and opened the door. She made a motion to reach for her suitcase, but he got to it first, following her in and depositing it down on the hearth next to the fireplace.
Freya surveyed the cabin. There was a stone fireplace, which was nice enough. The dark wood floors were a bit creaky, and the decor consisted of a woven rag rug, a coffee table made from a slice of a mutant-large tree, and a 1970s-looking orange sofa. Through the open bathroom door to the left of the fireplace she could see a toilet with a pull-chain.
Yep, she thought. These cabins are definitely coming down. And then her eyes filled again. She blinked hard and forced a smile for the owner whose craphole she would soon be buying.
“Thanks. I can take it from here.”
“Just let me just finish up with that faucet, and I’ll be out of your way.”
“No, that’s okay–” she said, but he ignored her and went into the bathroom anyway.
Freya clenched her jaw tight and closed her eyes, counting backward from ten. Sometimes that worked. When she got to five, she heard a sound from the bathroom. She opened her eyes and walked in to find him leaning over an ancient clawfoot tub with a middle faucet jutting out over it from the log wall. She glanced around, turning in a full circle before realizing…
“There’s no shower?”
“No,” he said, working his wrench on the faucet. “There’s a tub. And a…” He clinked the wrench gently against a handheld shower head.
She leaned against the door jamb. “Look, if it’s leaking a little, that’s fine. I really just want to rest.”
“It’ll just be a minute,” he said.
She didn’t have a minute. If this guy saw her weeping like a lunatic, it would destroy her credibility. No credibility, no quick and easy sale, which meant she’d be stuck in hell’s waiting room for God knows how long.
She dabbed at her face then paced back and forth in the small living area, counting backward from ten. When she got to one, she started again at twenty, but only made it to seventeen when a picture on the wall over the sofa caught her eye. It was a watercolor landscape of a blue river traipsing through a green forest, with a deer peering from the other side. The style was whimsical and light, the entire scene suggested by perfectly placed strokes of color. She walked over to it, kneeling one knee into the sofa as she got closer. The deer looked curious, but not scared, and the luscious greens and blues were calming. She sat down on the arm of the sofa and stared at it, the tears starting to back away as she did.
Well, hell, she thought. Art’s a cure. Imagine that.
“You like that?”
She turned her head to find Nate wiping his hands on a towel in the doorway of the bathroom.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I do.”
Maybe they would keep the artwork.
“My father painted it,” he said, walking toward her, stopping at the edge of the sofa. “He built this place, too. It was his dream, and he made it, piece by piece.” He paused for a moment, then added, “He died a few months ago.”
“Oh.” Freya swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, and his expression tightened again. “Yeah.”
And right then, for no reason Freya could figure out, her chest swelled with emotion and her vision melted away in a haze of tears.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Nate’s eyes widened. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Freya sniffed, opening her purse and withdrawing a pack of Kleenex. “It’s nothing. Really nothing. I have a condition, that’s all.”
“A condition?” He reached out and touched her shoulder gently before withdrawing his hand. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she wailed, dabbing at her face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It’s just my eyes.” She sniffled, tried to count backward from ten in her head, but it was too late. Once she hit this point, there was no choice but to ride it out. She took a deep breath and tried not to squeak when she talked, with limited success.
“It’s my eyes,” she said again. “They just start crying every now and again, for no reason. In the shower, driving to work, during client lunches.” She closed her eyes tight and shook her head to rid herself of that humiliating memory. “That’s why I’m out here in the middle of Shit’s Creek, Idaho.”
“We prefer to call it Crap Creek,” he said. “You know. For the kids.”
“I’m an embarrassment in the office, but it’s not my fault.” Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. Damnit. “I’ve been to five doctors – one general practitioner, two optometrists, a LASIK guy, an opthalmologist – and none of them could help me.” She hiccuped twice and blew her nose. “This just happens sometimes, for no reason, and there’s nothing I can do and please… stop… looking at me like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m crazy.” She sniffed again, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Everything started to calm. “I’m not crazy.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think maybe you might be going to the wrong doctors…”
She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s not in my head! I mean, I have no reason to cry because your father died. I don’t even know your father. Why would I care?” She took in a deep breath as she realized what she’d said and her eyes watered even more. “See? That was rude and unfeeling, right? Normally, I wouldn’t care, as long as it doesn’t screw up a deal. But now…” She swallowed and continued in a tiny voice. “But now I feel bad. And I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” she said. “I’m a businesswoman. I fire people who don’t pull their weight and sleep just fine. I buy up property that’s been in families for generations and put up Baby Gaps. I’m not touchy-feely, I don’t do sensitive, and I don’t cry.” A sob shuddered through her and she wiped at her face. “There’s… there’s just something wrong with my eyes, okay?”
There was a long silence, then she heard him say, “Okay.”
Surprised, she looked up. “What?”
“If you say there’s something wrong with your eyes, then there’s something wrong with your eyes. I’ll let the staff know so that no one gets weird if the condition acts up.”
Freya straightened. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
They looked at each other in silence for a while. His eyes were sharp, but kind, and he seemed smart. Smart enough to know that this place was a big money pit. Smart enough to take a solid offer, even if it came from a woman with a rare and disturbing eye condition.
This could work, she thought, and the emotion ebbed away, allowing her muscles to relax.
“Thank you,” she said again.
He smiled. “No problem.”
“Dad?”
Freya turned her head toward the door to see a slight blonde girl, pre-teen, with ragged pigtails and skinned knees peeking out from her cutoff shorts. She wore a pink t-shirt that read, “Don’t Call Me Cute,” in glittery, swirly silver lettering which shot out stars from each end.
“Hey, Piper,” Nate said, his voice soft and full of affection as he walked toward the girl. “What’s up?”
The girl didn’t respond, just stared at Freya, her eyes gone wide as they traveled from her head to her shoes and back up again, as if she’d never seen someone like Freya before. Considering where she was growing up, she probably hadn’t. Freya got up off the couch and tried to smooth out her outfit; it was sad, she knew, but the girl’s blatant awe was kind of cheering her up.
“Piper, what’s up?” Nate repeated, his voice firming. The girl blinked and looked at him.
“Oh. Ruby wanted me to tell you that Number Four checked in early.”
Nate shot a light smile at Freya, then looked back at Piper. “Thanks for the heads up, babe. Your homework done?”
Piper ignored her father and stepped inside, walking up to Freya and holding out her delicate hand.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Piper.”
Freya bent over a bit, taking the girl’s hand and shaking it professionally.
“Nice to meet you, Piper,” she said. “I’m Freya. I like your shirt.”
The girl gasped with delight and looked down, using both hands to pull the shirt out in front of her before letting it drop back onto her tiny frame. “Really? I picked it out myself. Dad didn’t like it–”
Nate put one hand on Piper’s shoulder, directing her toward the door. “Homework.”
Piper turned her head over her shoulder and kept talking. “–he said it was too girly.”
“Well, you’re a girl,” Freya said, her heart warming at the sight of the little thing fighting her father just to keep eye contact with her.
“That’s what I said!”
Nate put his other hand on Piper’s other shoulder and gently nudged her out the open door. Piper stopped suddenly and peered over the edge of the porch. “Oh, shit, what happened to the railing?”
Nate glanced at Freya, his face slightly flustered, and said, “I’ll be back later to fix that.”
Piper poked her head back in the cabin. “You’re coming back? I can–”
“Homework,” he said, then turned to Freya. ” Ruby’s in the office until five, so if you need anything, just dial nine on the phone. There’s also a grocery store in town if you need anything we don’t have, on 2nd Avenue. Just follow 8 back into town and take a left, you can’t miss it.”
Piper grabbed her father’s sleeve. “I can go with her, show her around.”
Nate took her hand. “Homework.”
Piper sighed and reached around her dad to wave. “‘Bye, Freya! It was nice to meet you!”
“Bye, Piper,” she called back.
Nate pulled the girl away, and Freya heard her say, “She’s so beautiful! Did you see how beautiful–?” as Nate shushed her and walked her away from the cabin. Freya smiled to herself and shut the door, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath to relieve the tension in her shoulders as she leaned against it, hoping it was in better shape than the porch railing.
When I open my eyes, she thought, it won’t seem so bad.
When she opened her eyes, her focus went straight to the ugly orange couch, and she was hit with the sudden realization that there was no bedroom. That was her bed.
“Hell will be with you in a moment,” she said softly, then grabbed the keys to her rental car and left.
Hello! I love this. I wish I’d written the “Crap Creek” line. Could you please tell me what you read in Cinnci? Thanks, and happy Nanoing!
Oh yay! Freya is back for her own book; I was worried about her. I’m loving the opening, and I hope the words keep flowing for you.
Oh Lani. Oh, Lani. You’re AMAZING. Can I be you when I grow up?
Julie – thanks! Glad you liked it. As for the opening I read in Cinci, it was from “Little Ray of Sunshine,” out in February. I’ll have that opening up here soon!
Caryle – yes, actually Freya is second in requests only to Joe from The Comeback Kiss. Everyone wants Joe’s story, and I just haven’t found it yet. But Freya, well, I’ve been dying to write Freya since the day she busted into Flynn’s apartment in the opening of Crazy in Love. Hope you enjoy it!
Shelley! How are you, babe! And yes, you can be me when you grow up, as long as I can be you. Fair enough?
Excellent! Can’t wait to read it.
If only my NaNo work could be this good…or even just coherent!
Joe’s story! That would be fabulous. He was Hot.
Thanks for the title — I googled “Little _Miss_ Sunshine” and didn’t have much success of course. I will definately be looking for it in Feb.
Thanks for sharing this scene, Lani. I really loved “Crazy in Love”, so I’m happy to see Freya getting her own story told. And I can already tell I’m going to love Piper.
Ok, wanting to stop writing my nano now, cause i have read yours and it is SOOO good (like chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup and berries good).
I can still remember you sharing snippets of “flipping the bird” (still my fave title ever!).
Well done Lani. And WTG with the word count.
Lani – Fabulous! I also love the Crap Creek line. Piper is wonderful. I’m looking forward to hearing more about her. Thanks for sharing it.
Clearly, I am WAY out of the loop. But what’s Nano?
NaNo is National Novel Writing Month, which is now. You attempt – er will – write 50,000 words in 30 days.
And oh, Freya, I’m so glad we’ll get to see more of her.
Thanks RandomRanter. Now that you mention it, I remember hearing about it. I guess this is one of those months that I won’t envy all of you talented writers. One-in-eleven is not bad.
You should really make t-shirts “Born and raised in Shits Creek.” I’d buy one.
Loved Crazy in Love (finished it yesterday). Depressed I’m going to have to wait a year for Freya’s story. No pressure over here. Just saying…
OMG, I can’t wait for the rest of this! And I suppose we’ll just have to survive November/Nano with little Lani, although it will be *so* hard.
*sigh*
I’m with Melissa on the shirt-list. (and you all know what I just Freudian typed…).
I’m so behind in Nano, I’m rereading other people’s blogs to numb the mental math pain. Can I make up 4000 words tonight?
so freya has a thing about shoes – her own, and her sister’s. i’ll be interested to see what else happens in her story! I’m glad i stopped by the read this because ‘not enough about freya’ was one of the comments percolating in my head as i read and enjoyed ‘crazy in love’. i notice also that ‘crazy’ is a theme word her. and finally, i notice that my nano wordcount looks shameful and i need to stop surfing.
Lani, This absolutely is fabulous. I’m going out tomorrow to try and find a copy of Crazy in Love here in Melbourne (Aust). Can’t wait to read all abt the Daly girls. Loving the hint that they are shoe-o-philes (or at least Freya is).
You’ve got a new fan down under!
Lani:
Love the teaser and that it is. I am having trouble with my hands so I can’t type much. I am away behind on my NaNo project. I was going great guns and now this.
Congratulations on finishing and then going on. Good for you. You go girl! See, I may be old but I can still talk young.