September 3, 2010 @ 6:29 am | Filed under: Books,The Writing Life
MELROSE MIRACLE
by Staci Wilder
Chapter Twelve
“So you’ve spent some time working on your TV skills.” Nathan Charleton, in his uniform of black slacks and gray sweater, addressed the finalists. “But remember, the cooking still has to look effortless. That’s where the The Cooking Channel’s kitchen and culinary staff—or K&C for short—come in.” He paused and grinned. “Did you think Marcus Jordan or Dario Patali did everything on their own?”
Ella glanced at Torrie, sitting next to her, and raised her eyebrows. Was she the only one who’d not known the hosts had people behind the scenes? But the blank look in Torrie’s eyes was enough to let Ella know she wasn’t alone.
“To help you understand more about what goes into preparing one of our shows, the grill master himself is back with us today.” Nathan Charleton gestured toward the back door of the studio. “Marcus Jordan, folks!”
Ella felt the same surge of excitement she’d felt earlier in the week. After years of watching the chef in action on TV, it was almost surreal to see him bound past her in the flesh. The tall and slim, curly-headed chef looked even more boyish in person than he did on screen. The energy was the same though. Ella knew that whatever today held, the bar would be raised.
She leaned forward, pen in hand, willing herself to concentrate on Marcus Jordan and what he had to share with them today. Meeting this chef and sitting in on his lectures had been little more than a daydream just weeks ago and Ella knew this was a once in a lifetime experience. But as thrilled as she was to be sitting here in front of Marcus Jordan, one thing still thrilled her more.
Knowing Luke Abney was somewhere near.
She smiled, remembering last night. Her eyes felt a bit gritty this morning from lack of sleep. At breakfast she’d had to down a third cup of coffee for an extra jolt of caffeine. Even so, nothing could dim the way she felt this morning. There was a lightness to her, a sense of excitement and adventure, that she hadn’t felt in such a long time.
And it was because of Luke.
They had sat in the lobby of the Radisson talking until two a.m. They talked about everything and nothing, all at the same time. After their marathon phone conversation a few months ago, Ella thought she’d known the basic Luke Abney trivia. He was from Indiana and loved apple pie, baseball games, and the LA Lakers. His favorite color was blue and he’d dreamed of being a veterinarian when he was a little boy. He lived in a small apartment in Brentwood, but his favorite spot was his parents’ farmhouse in Bloomington. The long, wraparound porch with the wooden swing, to be exact.
Last night, they’d filled in the many layers put into place during that phone conversation. Time seemed to fly by. In a matter of hours, Ella felt like she’d known Luke Abney all her life. Somehow it didn’t surprise her. There had been something almost electric between them since their first meeting. Still, the intimacy of the details he’d shared with her—as simple and inconsequential as they might seem to others—was everything to her. Luke Abney had shared himself. Ella had experienced that once before—with Stephen—and she knew that anything less than that was unacceptable.
Maybe that’s why in the middle of her happiness this morning there also rested an unease. Stephen. He seemed to be all around her today. In the sound of Chloe’s voice on the phone this morning. The scent of his cologne still clung to the suitcase in her hotel room. This caused uncertainty in her emotions, almost like a warning of some kind.
Ella wanted to ignore it, had, in fact, done a fairly good job of it so far. But even as she pushed all thoughts of Luke and Stephen and even Chloe from her mind as she focused her eyes on Marcus Jordan, Ella knew that something was different.
It would be different from now on—
Ella jumped as Marcus Jordan’s voice boomed right in front of her.
“I’d like to introduce you at this time to what I like to call “my secret weapon”—Miriam Goldsmith, come join me please!”
Ella twisted in her seat to get a look at the tiny woman making her way to the front. Even shorter than Ella, she was fifty-ish with short gray hair and a huge smile. Marcus placed an arm around Miriam’s shoulders and pulled her close.
“Miriam is my sous chef. Translated that means she is my right-hand. I really could not do my show without Miriam and the rest of the K&C staff. They are the ones who enable us to do our jobs.” Marcus handed the microphone to Miriam. “I’m going to turn the podium over to you, Miriam.”
Ella joined the other finalists in a standing ovation. Miriam grinned, waving them back in their seats.
“Thank you,” the older woman’s voice was soft and kind as she held up two fingers. “The K&C staff is divided into two departments. First we have the cooks and food stylists who actually develop and style the recipes for television. They are the ones who make the food look gorgeous.”
Henry, on Ella’s right, reached over and nudged her. “Hey, El, can I borrow a sheet of paper?”
Ella glanced at his desk—completely bare—while she flipped to the back of her notebook and removed a couple of clean sheets. She grinned at him and shook her head. Typical Henry. Funny to a fault, and almost never fully prepared. Ella wondered how far he’d make it in the competition with his lack of organization.
“Second,” Miriam continued, “is the writers and the editors. The editorial staff works together with the chefs to create recipes for the shows. Then they take those recipes and write ‘break-downs.’”
Ella scribbled the word and then waited for the definition.
“A break-down is an action script for a show. Each episode is literally broken down action by action. This way the chef or the host knows what to and when to do it.”
Ella squirmed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about all these new revelations. Maybe she’d been naive to think that the likes of Marcus Jordan or Kendall Brooks simply walked into a kitchen and proceeded to whip up one amazing meal right after the other—in front of a camera. If so, maybe she should feel relief right now at learning that even the network greats had lots of help.
But all Ella felt was worry.
Up to this point she’d known about the teleprompter, the cue cards, the time cards, and the importance of switching from one camera to the next seamlessly. Now Miriam was telling them that each segment is broken down into separate actions, telling her where to be and when to be there.
Ella shuddered and chanced a peek in Torrie’s direction. The girl had her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed closed. If Ella hadn’t felt so overwhelmed herself by this fresh onslaught of information, she would have laughed out loud. She knew how Torrie felt. Her earlier premonition had been right.
The bar had been raised.
From this point on, the seven remaining finalists would have to give it their all. Less than that, and the loss of concentration and initiative would be just enough to send them packing.
Ella straightened her back and made up her mind. She’d learn how to do the . break-downs. Face the teleprompter with courage. Show the camera no mercy. Whatever it took, she’d master it.
She’d come way too far and had way too much at stake to risk going home now.
*****
Nathan Charleton was issuing the day’s challenge to the seven finalists.
Luke could hear it all from where he sat in the control booth. Munching on a PB&J sandwich, he leaned back in his chair and propped his tennis shoe-clad feet on a corner of Kurt’s desk.
“Today each of you will be given a break-down from an episode of Marcus Jordan’s nationally acclaimed cooking show Just Grill Me. You’ll have thirty minutes to read the break-downs and you’ll each have a ten-minute consult with Miriam right before you’re set to begin filming. Miriam will walk you through the break-down. Then tonight—”
The host paused and Luke quit chewing, straining to hear what he already knew would come next.
“Tonight another one of you will be eliminated from the contest.”
Luke swallowed hard. It felt like the peanut butter had coated his throat, suddenly dry. He folded the last two bites of sandwich in a paper towel and stuck it back in the Ziploc baggie. Tossing the whole thing into the trash can beneath Kurt’s desk, he took a deep breath then blew it out in one loud huff.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kurt punched a button, filtering out all sounds from the sound stage below them, and pulled off his headset.
“Nothing.” Luke shrugged, then grinned. “Everything?”
Kurt swiveled in his chair and picked up a can of soda. “Hmmm. It’s the waitress again, isn’t it?”
“Don’t call her that, man.” Last night, Luke had learned the story of why Ella had gone to work at the diner in the first place. How the big, burly Max had looked out for her. How hard she and her baby girl had it in the months after her husband’s death.
Now this protectiveness he felt toward her seemed like a big billy club he carried in his hand. Just daring someone to mess with Ella.
“I mean…she’s more than that, you know?”
Kurt took a long swig of the cola, then sighed. “Sure she is, man. Hey, Luke, you know I didn’t mean anything by that comment. Really.”
Luke only nodded.
“Wow.” Kurt whistled softly. “You’ve got it bad, dude.”
Luke nodded again. “I know.”
Kurt seemed at a loss for words. Luke couldn’t blame him. No doubt he was throwing his buddy a curve ball. Nobody—least of all, Luke himself—ever expected Luke Abney to fall this hard or this quick for a woman.
“Here’s the thing,” Luke faced Kurt and planted his elbows on his knees. Kurt wasn’t exactly the one to go to for female advice, but he was the best Luke had at the moment. “I…I like her. I mean…we’ve only talked a little. But I know I like her. A lot. I know that I like her a lot.” He kept nodding his head. “I know this.”
Kurt laughed, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Oh, man! It’s much worse than I thought. Luke Abney, have you gone and fallen in love behind my back?”
Love? Luke straightened. He hadn’t given that word a second thought since Tessa. The truth was, he was no longer certain what love was. Maybe he’d never known. He thought he had a great love with Tessa and look how that turned out.
He shook his head now. He didn’t want to think about Tessa right now. “I don’t know about that…about love, that is. But,” he spread his hands, “I want a chance to know Ella better. But what if she leaves before we have that opportunity?”
Kurt just stared at him. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
Kurt’s chair popped as he leaned forward and rapped Luke on the head. “This is the twenty-first century, dude. You know, cell phones and email and airplanes and—”
“Okay!” Luke held up his hands in surrender. “I get your point. I get it.”
“So,” Kurt spoke very slowly, as though to a first grader. “If the pretty girl goes back to Louisiana you will call her.” Kurt picked up the cell phone laying on his cluttered desk and waved it in the air. Then he turned to the computer and tapped on the keyboard. “And you’ll email her. See how easy that is?”
Luke grimaced at Kurt’s good-natured mocking, but as much as he hated to admit it, he felt better. Somehow blockhead Kurt had made this whole Ella Paglia deal seem like it could work.
“Okay then,” Kurt picked up his headset and jerked a thumb toward the control room door, “Better get downstairs, lover boy. You have a challenge to tape.”
*****
Ella paced the perimeter of the green room, the dreaded blue card clutched in her hand. Muttering to herself, she rehearsed the break-down: when she’d brush the lobster with oil, which counter she’d be using for her food chops, and how long to grill the quesadillas on each side.
Each of the seven finalists had been given one of Marcus Jordan’s famous recipes. She’d drawn the Lobster-Toasted Garlic Quesadillas. In less than fifteen minutes a stage hand would show up at the door, beckoning her to the studio floor.
“That’s not very encouraging, is it?” Dirk’s question broke the silence of the room. He pointed to the couch.
Across the room, Patty lay face down on the sofa. The poor woman had drawn first again. Ella had been sitting in the overstuffed chair when Patty came back from her demo. She’d entered as quietly as before, but had walked straight to the sofa and lay prone. An hour and a half later, Ella didn’t think the woman had moved a muscle.
“Should we…shake her?” Ben’s words were whispered. “Nudge her or something? You know, make sure she’s breathing?”
Dirk grinned. “Sure. Go ahead and do that, Ben.”
Ben lifted the brown Stetson from his head and ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. “I think she’s probably all right.” He glanced up at Ella. “Don’t you?”
Ella giggled in spite of her own nerves. She nodded. “I think she’s fine. She’s just recovering right now.”
Ben’s sigh filled the green room. “Personally, I think she’s got the right idea. I may pass out myself after I finish cooking up some Marcus Jordan braised pork ribs.”
Ten minutes later, Ella stood behind the counter in the studio kitchen, thinking that she, too, might join Patty on the sofa. If she ever lived through this demo, that is. She licked her lips and smoothed the white apron over her hips.
“Okay, Ella,” Marnie called, “On five…four…three…two…one!”
Ella opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered she’d forgotten to smile into the camera. She clamped her mouth closed again, then gave her best Colgate grin into what she hoped was the right camera.
And hopefully not Luke’s camera.
“Today I’m making Lobster-Toasted Garlic Quesadillas.” She turned the smile up another notch. The judges had wanted to see more of her, right? What did that mean, exactly? More personality, Ella supposed. “First I’ll take this lobster—isn’t he a beauty, folks?” She held the lobster up just in time to see Marnie motion toward the other camera.
Remembering her Colgate smile just in time, Ella spun around with the lobster, her eyes wildly searching for the second camera. As she did, Ella felt her shoe begin to slip on something wet. Confident that she could regain her footing, she tried to find her place on the teleprompter.
“We’ll need to lay this lobster down on a flat surface and rub him with some oil and seasonings—!”
Ella lost her battle with the wet spot on the floor. It happened so fast it seemed almost impossible to believe. Yet here she was. On the floor. Still clutching the lobster. And the cameras were rolling.
That split-second thought was enough to propel Ella into action. On her feet again, she carefully stepped over the water puddle on the floor and dropped the lobster onto the counter with a loud plop! Her eyes found the camera, but not the teleprompter. “And that, folks, is for the experts. Please don’t try that at home!”
Ella’s heart sank to her knees, though she kept the Colgate grin in place. She’d probably just blown her chance in this competition. Only one thing brought her any consolation. She hadn’t broken the cardinal network rule.
Don’t ever stop the show!
Free Fiction Fridays, Staci Wilder books, summer reads, writing
August 31, 2010 @ 6:01 am | Filed under: Food and Drink,Soul Food
Some of our weeks are truly crazy.
With MJ’s work schedule, we’re sometimes separated for two - three days and nights at a time each week. By the time he drives back into town from whatever kind of week he’s had, he’s ready for a few good things.
Namely – his home, his bed, his table.
I guess my burgeoning love for cooking and spending time in my kitchen originally stemmed from the sheer knowledge of this. It became important to me to find ways to make his arrival home each week something for him to anticipate.
That’s not to say that there is always ample time on my part – or in my own schedule – to prepare a labor intensive meal or spend loads of effort on ambiance. But I’ve learned that in setting a table I’m also setting a heart, and that doesn’t require a lot of time or money or even effort.
It merely asks that I care.
I care deeply.
The next time you find an occasion to prepare a table – or a heart – here is a great recipe that is beautifully pleasing and deliciously memorable!
Farfalle with Tomatoes & Spinach
Ingredients:
- 1 tablespoon plus 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 8 ounces uncooked farfalle pasta
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
- 1 cup vertically sliced yellow onion
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 5 garlic cloves, sliced
- 2 cups grape tomatoes, halved
- 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
- 3 cups baby spinach
- 3 tablespoons shaved fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 3/4 cup (3 ounces) crumbled feta cheese
Preparation:
1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil with 1 tablespoon salt. Add pasta, and cook according to package directions; drain.
2. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion and oregano; sauté 12 minutes or until lightly browned. Add garlic; sauté 2 minutes. Add tomatoes and vinegar; sauté 3 minutes or until tomatoes begin to soften. Add pasta and spinach; cook 1 minute. Remove from heat, and stir in Parmigiano-Reggiano, remaining 1 tablespoon oil, remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt, and pepper. Sprinkle with feta.
Serve with Olive Flatbread: Preheat oven to 450°. Unroll 1 (11-ounce) can refrigerated thin-crust pizza dough onto a baking sheet. Combine 1½ tablespoons olive oil, ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper, and 1 minced garlic clove; brush over dough. Sprinkle dough with ⅓ cup chopped kala-mata olives. Bake at 450° for 11 minutes or until browned and done. Top with 2 tablespoons thinly sliced basil.
healthy recipes, recipes, Tasty Tuesdays
August 30, 2010 @ 7:02 am | Filed under: School Stuff,Uniquely Me
Four year ago this week I dared to follow a new dream.
I can do a lot of things on my own, but I probably wouldn’t have been so successful at this college thing without MJ’s constant support and encouragement.
He believed in me when the math grade was in the toilet.
He has shared the sofa space next to me with a stack of books for what seems like forever now.
And he was the one who endured my four endless semesters of Spanish (even though I threw the accent in for FREE!)
So baby, this is my thank you…for everything you’ve been…for everything you’ve done…
Thank you for a summer that recharged me and helped me to gear up in every way possible for this last semester of classes and then student teaching. This phase of our lives – like the others – has been a true adventure and so much of that is due to you.
There are many weeks that we sacrifice a lot, especially time, because of the crazy schedules that work and school dictate. I love the fact that even on the days when you’re on the road you’re still the one I talk to the most. And if it weren’t for that crazy road schedule then I wouldn’t have the memories of those unexpected times when you’ve shown up outside of one of my classes – just to surprise me. I appreciate the fact that you celebrate the end of each semester as fully as I do, and it’s in these ways that I know this has most definitely been a shared journey.
Today we celebrate the start of the last semester of classes. Sixteen more weeks. Four months.
The last one!
This one’s for you. Because as much fun as this part of the journey has been, I’m anticipating what lies ahead in our Big Adventure!
I love you.
 |
 |
| This free photo slideshow created with Smilebox |
August 27, 2010 @ 6:17 am | Filed under: Books,The Writing Life
MELROSE MIRACLE
by Staci Wilder
Chapter Eleven
Luke sat on the worn leather sofa in his apartment and stared at the clock on the wall. Eight-fifteen. He sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. The contestants should know by now which of them had made it to the next round.
Ella should know by now.
The thought of Ella leaving LA before he really even had a chance to get to know her did something funny to Luke’s stomach. It was crazy, really. This wasn’t his style, mooning over some lady he barely knew. Heck, he didn’t even moon over the ones he did know. This was new territory for him, a space he hadn’t explored since…
Well, since Tessa.
The thought of Tessa Shepherd made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d once loved her fiercely. Was prepared to give her the moon, had she asked for it. He had, in fact, given her something far more precious. His heart. And she had stomped on it so hard that Luke wouldn’t have experienced more pain if she’d walked on his bare chest in a pair of her four-inch stilettos.
Of course, he hadn’t been without blame. Leaving his mid-west values behind in Indiana, he’d reached out and grabbed all he could hold when he first arrived in Los Angeles six years ago. Late nights, wild parties, and pretty women—all were available for the taking.
But then he’d met Tessa and had felt like he had at last come home. At last he’d felt free to shed the glitz of Tinsel Town and bare his heart and soul to someone who shared his passions and his morals. Only Tessa hadn’t been that person. One mention of his hometown values and she’d started deleting herself from his life, one pair of shoes at a time.
But this wasn’t fair, his drumming up past hurt at the hand of Tessa. It wasn’t fair to Ella, and it wasn’t fair to him. The two women couldn’t be more different from one another. Tessa had been self-centered, more focused on her own career and needs than anything else.
Ella had a child that came first. A little girl. He knew this from the initial bios that Kurt had shared during their cross-country trek. He knew this competition meant far more to her than she let on. Maybe that’s why he felt such an unexplainable tenderness toward her, almost a protectiveness. Her motives were noble, at least he thought they were.
Of course, this wouldn’t be the first time he’d been wrong about a woman.
Luke paced the length of the small living room. Then he sat some more. Then he did a few jumping jacks. By the time he’d stretched on the floor to do a set of sit-ups, he realized that only one thing would really soothe his uncertain emotions. He sat up and reached for the Bible on the coffee table. Scooting around, he leaned his back against the sofa and flipped through the soft, worn pages until he found it. Psalm 1.
Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.
Luke read the verses again, then dropped his head forward, resting his forehead on his knees. How many times had this set of scriptures spoke comfort to his questioning mind and bruised spirit? Too many to count, he knew that.
He’d learned an important lesson the hardest way possible—through experience. His mother had always been fond of saying that pain was her best teacher. She’d been right. After his breakup with Tessa, his enraptured view of Hollywood and all it had to offer began to dim. It was as though he’d had blinders covering his eyes and at last they were stripped away and he could see again.
Where once he’d seen only the glitz and glamour of a city known for indulgence, he now knew it for what it really was. Just another city. Large, wealthy, and full of super stars. Yeah, maybe so. But what Luke now knew was that even superstars with mega-hit movies were just regular folk. At the end of the day, they brushed their teeth and went to bed, much the same as he did.
Only Luke could now lay his head on his pillow with a peace in his heart.
He’d never risk that peace again. Not for a job. Not for LA.
Not for a woman.
That’s why he had to make a move, one way or another. If Ella was as real as he felt she was, then he didn’t want to let an opportunity to know her better pass him by. But he’d need strength if she turned out to be in search of only what the Hollywood scene could provide for her.
The strength to simply walk away.
“Lord,” Luke mumbled the prayer out loud. “You know I want your will. Guide my footsteps. Direct my words. Let me follow wherever you lead me. Even if it’s not what my heart wants to hear.”
By the time the clock on the wall read eight-forty-five, Luke had showered, changed into a fresh pair of pants and shirt, and was locking his front door. He knew Kurt would call him crazy and most of his other friends would think he’d flipped out. But he had to know if Ella was staying in LA.
He had to know tonight.
*****
Ella went with the others to the corner ice-cream shop. Over milkshakes and banana splits, they celebrated surviving the first round of eliminations. Ella felt her place in the group was shaky, at best. She’d have to find a way to give the judges what they were asking for. But as she sat and nibbled on her waffle cone, she had no idea how to do that.
Everyone else felt good, she could tell. Torrie talked nonstop, barely giving anyone else time to get a word in edgewise before jumping to a new topic altogether. Even Patty had agreed to join them and, while she wasn’t really participating in the conversation much, she did nod in agreement and give a furtive smile from time to time. Ella was more convinced than ever that Patty just needed a friend. She purposed to try harder to be that person for Patty.
“Hey, Cowboy,” Henry tossed a wadded straw wrapper Ben’s way. “There are two men in jeans and Stetsons in the kitchen. Which one is the real cowboy?”
“Oh, no, here we go again.” Deidra threw up her hands.
Ella grinned as Ben turned a pretty shade of pink.
“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Which one?”
“The one on the range.” Henry howled, slapping his palms on the table. “Get it? Range? Like, home on the range?”
“WE GET IT, DUDE.”
Ella cringed at Deidra’s hateful tone. Henry’s jokes did tend to wear a little thin, particularly after fifteen of them and a very long day in the studio. But you certainly couldn’t fault the guy for trying to keep things light and humorous. Ella appreciated that, even if she could have done without the corny one-liners.
“On that note, I think I’ll head back to the hotel.” Dirk pulled his ball cap on and stood up. “Anyone want to walk with me?”
Ella held up her hand. “Me. I need to get back to the room and call home anyway.”
“Hey, it’s still early yet.” Torrie’s pretty mouth turned down in a mock pout. “You two are party poopers.”
“That’s us.” Dirk grinned and tapped Torrie’s shoulder. “But this is one party pooper who will have had his eight hours of beauty sleep and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for tomorrow’s challenge.”
No one had an argument—pretend or otherwise—so Dirk and Ella waved their good-byes and walked the two blocks to the Radisson. Ella bid Dirk a good-night as he turned the corner in the lobby, headed for his first floor room. Ella started for the elevator when she heard her name.
She spun around, shocked to see Luke Abney standing in the lobby. Ella started toward him, then glanced around. “What—what are you doing here?”
He moved closer, and in that one motion she noticed several details. Details that made her heart rate pick up and the now familiar flush to creep up her neck. Things like the neat line in his khakis. The way his button-down shirt hung untucked. The fact that he wore flip-flops and she could see his feet. Silly details that she’d never admit to another human being. But details that caused her heart to flutter in a way she’d never expected to feel again.
“I came to see you.” He stood in front of her now—no more than a foot away—looking down at her with such frank honesty in his blue eyes that it almost took her breath away. “I wanted to make sure that you…that you weren’t…”
Ella nodded. “I get it. You wanted to make sure I wasn’t the one eliminated, right?”
His grin was sheepish, but she loved it. Loved that he wanted to check on her. Loved that he was standing here, close enough for her to reach out and touch.
“Yeah, something like that.” He stared down at her and his grin widened.
“What?” Ella felt self-conscious beneath his gaze. She reached up to wipe at her mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”
Luke shook his head and stepped even closer. With one hand, he reached out and fingered a curl that hung over her shoulder. “You’ve got your hair down,” he whispered huskily.
Ella’s heart skipped a little beat. She couldn’t have taken her eyes off of Luke Abney right then if a gun had been held to her head. Nor did she want to.
“I like it like this.” He let go of the curl and it jumped back into place. “You know, curly, free. It’s you.”
Ella finally found both her breath and her voice and she laughed out loud. “Easy for you to say, mister! I’d like to see you try to tame these curls at six o’clock every morning. It’s not easy, let me tell you.”
Luke laughed and shook his head. “I’m sure it’s not.” He glanced around the lobby, still littered with groups of people. “Hey, do you want to sit for a while? Just talk?”
Ella hesitated, thinking of the phone call home she needed to make and of the early morning wakeup call she’d requested. Then she looked into Luke’s blue eyes again and knew there was only one answer to his question.
Free Fiction Fridays, Staci Wilder books, summer reads
August 26, 2010 @ 6:19 am | Filed under: Family,It's funny!,The Fit Life,he said she said
“Hey, Baby, look.” MJ walked into the living room and struck a pose. “I’m wearing my…skinny jeans.”
Now – ordinarily – he has me at “hey baby look,” spoken in that deep, husky voice that I love so much. Ordinarily I would melt immediately and be his love slave for the remainder of the day.
But no. My man had to go and add “I’m wearing my skinny jeans,” which produced a totally different effect on me. A fit of giggles.
Images of Rachel Zoe and fashion mags danced through my head and, even though I am certainly no expert on skinny jeans since I own none, I’m fairly confident that MJ’s aren’t the ones that are currently trending.
However…
I must say that the man is definitely rocking his version these days!
Like everything else in his life, he decides what he wants, goes for it with gusto, and almost always succeeds. MJ decided about four months ago to get healthy and began to implement small changes. Small changes that have begun to reap large rewards.
Changes like this one. And counting points. And eating healthy meals that his most diligent wife prepares for him.
MJ had a physical two weeks ago. These small changes?
Paid HUGE dividends.
In four short months, his blood pressure, cholesterol, and triglycerides (which had all been high before) are now all within the normal, acceptable, praised-by-your-doctor range. To celebrate, he’s planning on running a 5K with me next month!
So my guy wants to rock his skinny jeans, huh?
I think he’s earned the right. Rock on, Baby!
healthy lifesty, healthy lifestyle, laughter, marriage, running
August 25, 2010 @ 10:46 am | Filed under: Family,Motherhood,Soul Food
“Making the decision to have a child-it’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” -Elizabeth Stone
There was a time when I thought this road called Motherhood would one day become breezy.
One day when ear infections and middle-of-the-night stomach flus were a thing of the past.
One day when homework no longer required my assistance and lunches no longer needed packing.
One day when they’d shop for their own clothes and purchase the extras with – could it be – their own money.
Now I know differently.
There are no breezy sections on this Motherhood Road.
Whether our children are two, twenty-two, or forty-two, we feel their pain in a way that is so exquisite that there is yet to be a word created that would aptly describe it. It takes us to the very brink of all we think we can feel or think or experience…and then the very next day it surprises us all over again in completely new ways.
It has been said that pain is the best teacher in the world. And while a part of me really wants to balk at this, particularly in the case of motherhood, I find that I still agree with it.
The pain of motherhood – of loving this extension of yourself so much that your heart bleeds when they hurt – teaches us about what is good and right and truly important in this world. More and more these days, I am reminded of what is no longer fundamentally important to me. Instead I cling to what I know.
And I know that my purpose is to love and to nurture and to find joy in the simple things.
I came across this blog that I wrote quite a while back. Instantly, it took me back to a day when The Teacher gave a lesson that I didn’t necessarily want to learn.
Forty-eight hours ago, I sat in a doctor’s waiting room, nervously and mindlessly flipping through the worn and smudged pages of one magazine after another. For two solid hours I sat in that black vinyl chair, all the while my heart was somewhere in the depths of that doctor’s office, in whatever room Nate was in.
As a half-hour turned to one, then an hour and a half came and went, I gave up all pretenses of reading or people-gazing or anything else that one tends to do in those type of settings. I gathered my purse and moved to the edge of my seat, and was truly only a nano-second away from barging behind The Door and finding my son all on my own.
And then these words begin to spill through my mind in the sweetest possible way:
“Peace, peace. Wonderful peace.”
“Coming down, from the Father above.”
Just like that my twirling thoughts stilled and my pulse returned to normal. Even though I sat here, in the one place, facing the one thing that I feared most during my kids’ growing up years, I felt the peace of God. I wish that I could control heredity, that I could somehow shelter both boys from the pains and trials of life, whether it be physical, mental, spiritual, or emotional. And yet – just as I could only sit with them held firmly in my lap during those awful visits for shots, for ear infections, for chicken pox – now I could only sit in a lonely chair in the waiting room, knowing that my firstborn was on his own this time. Besides my presence and my prayers, I was helpless.
“Peace, peace. Wonderful peace.”
“Coming down, from the Father above.”
The lesson that day – and the one that I’ve had to repeat several times since – has been one on acceptance. Accepting what is and letting go of preconceived expectations and even plans and goals I may have had for my children. What I’m learning is that in letting go I am receiving something so rich and so full that my mother’s heart almost can’t contain it all.
I am receiving the fullness of joy that comes with true peace of mind.
And that’s pretty breezy, let me tell ya!
Family, life lessons, Motherhood
August 24, 2010 @ 6:34 am | Filed under: Food and Drink,The Fit Life
Easy Bavarian Cream
Fold 3 stiffly beaten, pasteurized egg whites into a bowl of prepared, cooled instant sugar-free/fat-free vanilla, butterscotch, white chocolate, banana or chocolate pudding. Chill for 2 hours in individual custard cups or one large serving bowl. Now you’re on the way to the elegant dishes below.
To make a trifle: Layer the Easy Bavarian Cream in a 2-quart glass bowl with 24 purchased lady fingers and 3 cups fresh berries or sliced fruit.
To make a Bavarian cream parfait: Spoon alternating layers of fruit and Easy Bavarian Cream into clear wine glasses. Here are some flavor combinations we enjoy:
- Vanilla Bavarian cream with orange sections
- White Chocolate Bavarian cream and raspberries
- Butterscotch Bavarian cream and sliced bananas
- Chocolate Bavarian cream with strawberries
- Banana Bavarian cream with kiwi fruit slices
Creamy Chocolate Mousse
Prepare a cook-and-serve sugar-free/fat-free chocolate pudding mix according to the package directions. Transfer the hot pudding to a bowl and place a sheet of plastic wrap directly on the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Chill 1 hour or until cool. Fold 1 1/2 cups fat-free, non-dairy whipped topping into the cooled pudding. Chill 2 hours in individual custard cups or in a large serving bowl, or make one of these tasty desserts.
To make a frozen chocolate mousse pie: Pour the mousse into a baked low-fat pie shell and freeze.
For a frozen chocolate mint mousse cake: Add 1/2 teaspoon mint extract to the pudding with the whipped topping. Coat an 8-inch springform pan with cooking spray. Crush 16 low-fat chocolate wafer cookies and sprinkle them on the sides, pressing if necessary to make them stick, and on the bottom of the inside of the pan. Pour the mousse over the crumbs and freeze for 4 hours.
For individual frozen chocolate mousse desserts: Line 6 muffin tins with paper muffin cups and fill with the chocolate mousse mixture. Freeze until firm, then serve with a spoon.
Other Pudding Dessert Ideas
- To make a pudding jelly roll, bake a packaged angel food cake mix as directed by the box. When it’s cool, spread the roll with prepared sugar-free/fat-free pudding (any flavor and either instant or cook-and-serve) and roll up as directed.
- To make pudding ice cream, prepare any flavor sugar-free/fat-free instant pudding as directed on the package. Pour immediately into a pre-chilled ice cream machine and churn until frozen. Serve immediately.
- To make frozen fudge pops, prepare instant sugar-free/fat-free chocolate pudding as directed. Pour into small paper cups and freeze 1 hour or until a popsicle stick will stand up when inserted. Insert one popsicle stick into the center of each; freeze until hard.
Weight Watcher recipe – healthy & light!
healthy recipes, Tasty Tuesdays
August 23, 2010 @ 6:03 am | Filed under: Family,Pure Sunshine
There are five years between my brother and I. Growing up, I was a typical big sister – looking out for him, protecting him from unseen “dangers,” and – generally – heralding his accomplishments more loudly than anyone else.
I began having my children while he was finishing high school. By the time he began having children, my boys were ten and nine years old.
I don’t suppose we ever dreamed together of what it would be like if we both lived on the same street. Of what it would be like to have our kids and grandkids running back and forth, with large family gatherings and impromptu saturday afternoon backyard cookouts.
And yet we are very close to envisioning that very thing right now. Sprawling acreage where the kids can roam, where we can gather late into the evening – while the cicadas chatter in the background – and bask in the kinship that our kind of love deserves. We’re in the dreaming stages right now, with the hope that Kevin and his family can have a weekend place that adjoins ours sometime in the near future.
There is a sweetness to being with family…like this past week.
When all the kids – who have been separated from seeing each other for months – came together in one, long, jubilant visit that was filled to the brim with giggles, stories, swims, and sleepovers.
We crafted, we swam, and we watched late night movies while munching popcorn.
We visited the North Texas Children’s Musuem, lunched, and took the entire crowd to Chuck E Cheese (where Andi ate her lunch under the table in order to avoid Chuck E. )
Everything seemed sweeter…hugs were tighter…and the minutes were cherished because they were oh-so-valuable.
This past week was filled with only the good.
Only the best.
I think maybe that means we did something right.
August 20, 2010 @ 8:55 am | Filed under: Books,The Writing Life
MELROSE MIRACLE
by Staci Wilder
Chapter Ten
Ella’s exhilaration barely lasted through lunch.
As she and the other contestants filed back into Sound Stage C after a rather loud and festive lunch at a nearby bistro, it was clear something was up. The two rows of metal desks had disappeared from view and three more sets of cameras and tripods peppered the studio floor. The kitchen lights remained ablaze, but the round, overhead lights above the studio were dimmed.
The result was an instant charge of energy.
Or dread, Ella wasn’t really sure.
“Welcome back, contestants.” Nathan Charleton motioned for them to cluster to one side of the room. “I trust you had a pleasant lunch. You’ll be glad you’ve had plenty of nourishment because—” he paused and pointed at the group—“this afternoon’s challenge will lead to what you’ve all been waiting for. The first elimination ceremony.”
A chorus of groans echoed what Ella felt.
This was it. The contest was on, no doubt about that now. Up till this point they’d felt and operated as a single team. But now the gloves—or Chef’s mitts—would come off and may the best chef among them win. Anticipation wiggled around in Ella’s stomach and she tried to embrace it rather than fight it. This was why she’d come three thousand miles in the first place, wasn’t it? To win the contest that would guarantee a safe future for Chloe.
The truth could not be avoided. As much as they liked one another and as well as they got along, the contest would boast only one winner. In the end, it would come down to which one of the eight held up under the pressure, delivered culinary delights, and provided an entertaining performance.
Ella held her breath as the host continued.
“This is your challenge. You will each prepare the dish that won you a place in the finals. You’ll have two hours to prepare both the dish and a demo tray. After presenting your demo to the judges panel, you’ll be individually rated then you’ll prepare for the elimination ceremony. Tonight—” Nathan Charleton’ voice dropped an octave—“one of you will go home.”
The three judges were introduced and again the three points of judging were covered: performance, personality, and culinary point of view. Ella still wasn’t sure what the latter meant. This afternoon’s challenge left no time for her to mull it over though. She had twenty minutes to prepare her cue cards and do a dry run-through before the contestants began filming.
The earlier butterflies in the pit of her stomach now seemed to be having a block party inside her. Swallowing an acrid taste in the back of her throat, Ella found a quiet corner and rehearsed the steps of her demo. Her winning entry had featured her grandmother’s Vegetable Panini, a dish she could—just like Reggie had said—make in her sleep. She concentrated now on the prep work ahead of her: the vegetable chops, heating the griddle, slicing the baguettes.
This first crucial challenge differed from the previous ones in another way. Before, each finalist was allowed to sit in during each demo and challenge. Beginning today, they’d be sequestered in the green room both before and after their own demo. It added another layer of mystery to the goings-on, making it virtually impossible to know how well one stacked up in light of the remaining contestants’ performances.
Ella had drawn second demo and now she sat huddled in an overstuffed purple armchair, waiting for a stagehand to come fetch her when it was her turn. Deidra, Ben, and Kim occupied the matching couch. Torrie sat cross-legged against the wall, twirling her braids in her hands. Dirk and Henry lay flat of their backs on the green Berber carpet. All were quiet, just waiting.
“Hey, check it out,” Dirk, from his spot on the floor, pointed to the walls. “The green room is really green. I’ve always wondered that.”
It was an observation, but if Dirk was expecting a response Ella was certain he’d be disappointed. Their minds were too occupied at the moment to absorb anything of substance—even something as minute as the color of the green room.
“How do you think Patty is doing out there?” Deidra was the first to voice it.
Ella straightened in her chair. She’d been thinking about Patty too. The woman was an enigma to the rest of the group. She fascinated Ella every bit as much as she startled her. With her short, dark pixie cut and waif-like features, she appeared as harmless as a feather on a china dish.
From a distance, that is. Face-to-face with those small beady eyes and firmly set lips was enough to make Ella back up a step or two.
“She’s doing fine,” Ben piped up from his corner of the couch. “Haven’t you watched her in the kitchen? She’s a whiz with her chops. If you ask me, that spooky persona is all an act.”
Ella stared at Ben. Was it possible that someone could have their head in the game deep enough to effect a persona, for crying out loud? It was all she could do to function well as…herself…let alone trying to feign a false front just to throw the others off balance.
“I don’t know…” Torrie didn’t sound convinced.
“Wait a minute.” Deidra held up a finger. “I think Ben may be on to something. She was the only one that didn’t go to lunch with us today, right? Something about having an appointment or something like that? Well, when we were leaving the restaurant, I saw her at a table off to the side. By herself.” Deidra’s voice was emphatic, and she jerked her neck as though to accentuate each word. “What happened to that appointment, I ask you? She didn’t have one, that’s what!”
Ella giggled. “Deidra, that’s a stretch. Give the woman a break. I mean, she freaks me out to, but I don’t think she’s sinister or anything.”
“Hmph, maybe not,” Deidra crossed her arms. “But that woman’s got some real bad mojo going on up in that head of hers. You know what I’m talking about now!”
The doorknob to the green room clicked and all seven of them turned to the door. Patty walked in and took a seat in a metal folding chair nearest the door. She nodded curtly, acknowledging their presence, but then hid her head behind a dog-eared copy of California Living.
Ella watched as Dirk sat up and stared, first at Patty, then at each of them. He raised his eyebrows in question, but she only shrugged her shoulders. They’d all love to ask Patty how the demo went, but no one really knew how to approach her. Ella didn’t know what the deal with Patty was, but she did know she envied the woman right now.
The door opened and a stagehand poked his head inside. “Ella Paglia?”
Ella sighed and stood up.
Patty had another challenge behind her—at this moment, a position Ella envied.
*****
Luke’s chest tightened as he watched Ella walk to the center of the kitchen and take her place behind the counter. Almost like he was nervous for her. Or maybe he was just nervous right along with her, that was more like it. It wasn’t that he feared she’d flub up or make some awful error. All the contestants made mistakes; the competition didn’t require perfection. But it did require releasing your personality in front of a camera and being at ease with your movements and actions.
Ella had the latter down pat, Luke was convinced of that. She moved about the kitchen with a grace that captivated him, handling the pots and pans and ladles and mixers with the greatest of ease. It was the former part—the personality issue—that troubled him.
In Milltown, at Max’s Diner, Ella’s personality had been larger than life. Funny in a very unintentional way, her comedic expressions and quick wit had added wonderful layers to her naturally quiet persona. Here, in the studio kitchen, she was reserved, holding something back from the camera.
Luke feared she held back the very thing that could win this contest for her.
He and the other crew members had the distinct advantage of seeing all eight contestants in action. It tickled Luke the way folks reacted with a camera trained on them. Some of them—like that woman, Patty—become an animated version of Superwoman.
Luke nearly fell off his stool the first time Patty had opened her mouth during filming. The mousy, timid housewife vanished and in her place stood a ball of pure energy, tossing knives and pepper mills around like she was Tom Cruise in Tequila Sunrise. It beat all Luke had ever seen.
Then you had folks like Ben. And Ella. People with unmistakable skills and resources. But they tended to hide from the camera instead of reaching out and embracing it. For something to be appealing on a TV screen—whether it was the food or the chef—it had to be over the top.
Okay, Ella, show me what you’ve got. He eased behind his camera and waited for Marnie’s countdown. Ernie, another camera guy, would be taking the opening sequence of shots, so Luke used this time to zoom in tight on Ella’s face. Show me that beautiful smile, Ella.
“Three…two…one!”
On cue, Ella smiled into the camera and made her opening speech. Luke didn’t move a muscle as he watched, following her every move. Introducing her recipe—Luke wasn’t even certain what a panini was—he locked back into position as she turned on the grill then moved to the far counter to begin her chops.
Focusing the camera on Ella’s hands, he watched as she lined up eggplant, zucchini, and onions, then began to slice them with the ease of a pro. Her fingers—short and slim—were topped by neatly manicured nails, covered in clear gloss. Luke knew her hands would look awesome on-screen. He couldn’t say the same for everyone else he shot. Take Patty, for instance. The woman was a whirling dervish in the kitchen, but her hands looked like they needed a good long soak in a bowl of Madge’s Pamolive.
Ella finished the vegetables and reached for a basket of sliced baguettes. Working with one piece at a time, she spread a thin layer of pesto sauce, then layered slices of eggplant, zucchini, onion, tomato, mozzarella, and roasted red peppers. Sprinkling it all with salt and pepper, she then slid the sandwiches onto the griddle and placed a heavy iron skillet on top of them.
“You can use a panini maker if you want,” She spoke clearly and without hesitation. “But I like to make these sandwiches the way my grandmother taught me.”
Ella paused and grinned at the camera, pointing to the heavy skillet. “So I just use any old cast iron pan I have around. They’re just weighty enough and press the baguette in much the same way as an expensive panini maker.”
Good job, Ella! Luke wanted to shout out loud. She’d made it personal. Shared a little of herself with the camera. Now if she could just relax into it…
*****
Ella trailed down the hallway behind Dirk and Henry. Torrie walked on one side of her and Deidra on the other. Just behind them came Patty, Ben, and Kim. The motley group somehow reminded Ella of a bunch of kids, walking the long barren school hallway to the principal’s office.
They entered Sound Stage C as a group of eight. But only seven of them would return in the morning.
Ella’s lunch—was it only seven hours ago that they’d all been laughing and cutting up at Tony’s Bistro?—felt like it was lodged somewhere between the base of her throat and the middle of her ribcage.
Never could she remember being quite this nervous. Even walking the long church aisle to meet Stephen at their wedding and her planned C-section with Chloe seemed like a cakewalk in stark contrast to the panel of judges she was about to face.
Ella didn’t know what kind of stakes the other seven had in this competition, but for her, they were high. Winning this meant an opportunity to carve out a future that would utilize her talents and passions and also provide a generous and stable income for Chloe. It was a long shot; she’d known that going in.
But now that she was here, Ella intended to give it everything she had to make it all the way.
They entered the dim studio. The three judges sat behind a long table, a single row of track lighting illuminating the space. Just behind them, cloaked in semi-darkness, stood McAllister Pruitt, himself. The lunch-turned-stone in the pit of her tummy rolled over as Ella glimpsed the man who held the key to her future.
The eight contestants walked to the center of the room and took their places. When they were settled, Nathan Charleton stepped forward.
“Tonight we’ve reached the very first elimination ceremony. You’ve been introduced to the judges, but now let me tell you a little about each of them. You’ll be seeing them a lot over the course of this competition. First up, Tom Fogelman, Senior Vice President of Programming and Production here at The Cooking Channel.”
Nathan Charleton took a couple of steps and smiled. “The pretty lady next to Tom is Heidi Turner. Heidi’s role with the network is that of VP of Marketing. And last, but certainly not least, we have Jordan Elliott, well-known TV broadcaster.”
Ella surveyed the three judges, but could get no real feel on just how tough or how lenient the trio might be. Each of them smiled and waved at the contestants as they were introduced, but it was clear by the expressions on their faces now that they were all business.
“Now for the icing on the cake, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to present Mr. McAllister Pruitt.” Even Nathan Charleton’s voice contained a timbre of awe.
Ella’s fists clenched in anticipation at her side as the tall, daunting man stepped from the shadows, and came to stand before them.
“Good evening,” He nodded and looked each of them squarely in the eyes before continuing. “It’s my great pleasure to welcome you all to Los Angeles, but more specifically, to this competition. At one time, not so many years ago, I was in the same position you are right now. I had a dream, and that dream was to operate my own restaurant.”
Ella found herself relaxing as McAllister Pruitt began to share his background. She leaned forward in interest, finding it amazing that a man of his stature would be this candid.
“I came from a family that could barely afford to place the basics on the table, let alone purchase the extras we all enjoy today. I began to experiment with bits of this and pieces of that—all leftovers from the meal before. I cultivated a love for experimenting with food.” He smiled. “I still love to experiment.”
Ella could relate. Some of her best concoctions had been mistakes gone right.
“I finally lassoed my dream after ten grueling years. Now I want to help one of you lasso your personal dream. One of you will walk away from this competition with your own restaurant.
Not a sound was heard as McAllister finished speaking and retreated to the corner. Ella hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath, hanging on to every single syllable out of the man’s mouth. She blew it out in a long, soft sigh.
“Contestants, we want to thank each of you for your participation in Restaurant 101. Obviously, the network saw something exciting in each of you or you wouldn’t even be here. But as contests go, there can only be one winner and tonight we’ll take the group down to seven.” Nathan Charleton gave one last look at the finalists, then turned to the panel. “Judges, I’ll turn it over to you now.”
The one named Tom stood and picked up a sheet of paper from the table in front of him. He ventured a small smile as he began to speak. “I want to second the comments our host, Nathan Charleton, made. All eight of you show amazing potential and we’d love to be able to keep all of you. But tonight we are asking the following people…to stay.”
Ella felt her stomach drop the remaining distance to her knees and she forgot how to breathe. Without thinking, she reached out to clutch both her neighbor’s hands. In some remote corner of her mind she realized she’d grabbed hold of Patty’s hand, felt a half-second’s resistance, and then the warmth of Patty’s skin as the woman returned her anxious squeeze.
“When I call your name, please step forward. Dirk…Deidra…Henry…”
Ella stood frozen as Henry released her hand and stepped forward to join Dirk and Deidra. She felt Patty move in a little closer to her, and found it somehow oddly comforting.
“Torrie…Ben…Patty…”
Patty gave Ella’s hand one last squeeze, then joined the others in line. Ella felt sick. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it. Being plucked out during the very first round of competition.
“Kim and Ella, we have a few comments to make about your performance in the studio today.”
Ella nodded, rubbing her clammy palms along the side of her denim skirt. She watched as Heidi, the lone woman on the panel, stood.
“Let’s start with you, Kim.” She nodded in his direction. “There’s no question that you are a skilled chef, particularly with Asian and Asian-inspired dishes. You’ve impressed us with your knowledge of foods. What we’re not seeing, however, is the ability to speak clearly and concisely. This is a trait that any good TV host or hostess must possess.”
Ella saw Kim nod his head in acceptance. Her knees buckled a little further when Heidi turned her gaze her way.
“And Ella. You’ve got definite style, and a real flair for cooking. Just like with Kim, it’s obvious that you, too, have a vast knowledge of kitchen operations. What we’d like to see more of though—and haven’t yet—is Ella.” Heidi stretched her arms wide. “Let us see who you are, Ella. All of you.”
Ella tried to smile, but wasn’t sure if she’d been successful. She just wanted this moment to end. Whatever the outcome…
“Ella…we’d like you to…stay.”
Like a punctured balloon, Ella felt her lungs give out and a burst of air shot through her. “Oh…” A mixture of relief and excitement and a sadness for Kim almost overwhelmed her. She took Kim’s outstretched hand.
“Good luck,” he nodded to her.
The next half hour passed in a blur of motion and activity as the group bid their farewells to Kim. When they’d all waved to him as he drove away in a cab, it was a moment of bitter sweetness.
As the remaining seven sat together, rehashing the day’s events and that night’s elimination ceremony, Ella couldn’t help feeling a bit like a knobby-kneed school girl who had won the spelling bee by default. She listened to the chatter around her, marveling that some of the other contestants had the confidence to openly boast about their progress thus far.
As near as Ella could tell, the competition was just heating up. And—if today was a clear indicator of things to come—the road to restaurant ownership via this particular route would be bumpy, at best. She was ecstatic that she was still in the game, but her heart ached that it was at the expense of someone else’s dream.
Tonight, Kim’s dream had been sacrificed.
Whose would be next?
Free Fiction Fridays, Staci Wilder books, summer reads
August 19, 2010 @ 6:30 am | Filed under: Family,Pure Sunshine
