ReStart

Hello out there to anyone who might still be vaguely interested in reading what I write here. First, I have to say I am sorry that I failed miserably the first time I tried to write this blog. Social media isn't really my thing, as most of you know. I hardly ever use Facebook, I never go on Twitter, I can't follow a blog for more than a day at a time with months and months between reading posts. I just don't find it interesting.

Well, I'm going to have to learn.

Lately I've been reading and researching a lot about self-publishing in the ebook market. It sounds simple enough, if not easy. So, I'm going to give it a try. However, in order to make any kind of success of it, I'm going to have to do some self-promotion and marketing. Bleck!

I'm told to use Facebook and Twitter and a blog to promote the books and stories that I publish. It makes sense, too. Free advertising space. You just have to get people reading about it. And the only way to do that is to "join the conversation" or else you'll basically just be spamming and no on likes that.

So here I am. restarting this blog. Trying to join the conversation.

Now, your next question might be, what am I going to talk about in this blog. The answer: I have no idea. I don't know if I want to put more fiction up, but I might. I'll likely talk about my experience with trying to self-publish and how successful/unsuccessful I am.

I can tell you that my goal is a long distance off. My plan is to start by publishing some short stories that I have had hanging around for a bit to try to build a following of some kind. But the end goal is the big story. Some of you may have heard about the story that I've written and am in the process of editing. It's called Saving Lives and I've been working on it for about 10 years now (give or take). I want to get to the point where I can publish that story (novel, book, whatever you want to call it) and have people want to read it. If that is through epublishing or traditional publishing, I don't really care anymore. I just want to get people reading.

If you're interested in epublishing yourself, check out Smashwords.com. They've got 3 free ebooks available and I've almost finished reading the second one. They are very informative and interesting. There's the Smashwords Style Guide, the Smashwords Book Marketing Guide, and The Secrets to Ebook Publishing Success.

Story Part 8

The next installment is now ready for viewing. I didn't post on Facebook last week, but I did post, so if you missed it, I would recommend reading that post before this one. Just to keep you informed of my progress, I have about 5 posts left of what I have written so far. Now that you know, I will have to write more, because I hope to have at least one more post ready before next week. (That means next week I should have another 5 posts left).

The list he gave her was long. There were so many charities in Vancouver and all of them had worthy causes. There were children charities, cancer charities, charities for homeless people, and battered women. There were charities for other diseases like AIDS and multiple sclerosis. There was no end to all the save the world charities like save the whales and save the trees. She tried to remember what Busby had told her in that she had enough money now to make some mistakes. And if her mistake was choosing a charity that wasn’t as important to her as another, that would be more than okay. There really were no wrong decisions in this case.

“What is this?” her mother asked as she came back from dropping the kids off at their house.

“Mr. Busby gave me a list of charities to look into. To help me figure out what I want to do. He also gave me some literature on the ones he thought I’d be most interested in with the promise that he could get more if another on the list strikes my fancy.”

“Which one do you think is most interesting so far?”

“Oh I don’t know, they’re all very worthy causes. And none of this has really touched my life before, so I’m not really emotionally attached to a particular cause the way some people are about say, breast cancer.” She held up the pink breast cancer foundation brochure that Busby had given her. “I was never abused, I’ve never had a disease that threatened my life, I’ve never known anyone like that either. I can see these are all really good causes and I’ve decided to make a donation to all of them over the next while, but none of them strike me emotionally. I want to find something that speaks to me, you know? Right here.” She pointed to her heart.

“You’ll find it, Syl. One day you’ll wake up and it’ll occur to you that it has been staring you in the face this whole time. You’ll wonder for a moment how you didn’t see it before and then you’ll figure out how you’re going to make it part of your life.”

Her mother went into the kitchen to see about dinner and Sylvia went back to the papers in front of her. There was something on the list or in the brochures that would strike her emotionally. And when it did, she would know what she was going to do with the rest of her life.

“We’re not getting anywhere.” She paced the bedroom in a sheer, white robe that enhanced her nudity rather than concealed it.

“Our PI is doing all he can, darling. Come lay down. Relax.”

“I can’t relax. William is in jail. He called her last night telling her to bail him out and the little tramp said no. Can you believe that? She said no. To William. If she said no to him, she’ll say no to any of us. What if I need something? Grandfather always bought me the nicest things when I asked him to. But she won’t even bail William out of jail.”

“You need to calm down, dear. You’re working yourself up and it’s not good to have a high stress level. Come here and I’ll rub the tension from your shoulders.”

She flopped down on the bed that she had recently gotten out of so that he could make her feel better, again. “I just want the money so we can get away from here. So we can be together and not have anyone look at us like we’re crazy.”

“I know, dear. I know. I want that too. We just have to be patient. Peter will come up with something. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. We’ll back her into a corner and she’ll have nowhere to run. She’ll have to give us the money we need.”

His hands gently rubbed her shoulders and she started to relax a bit.

“You’re right. Everyone has something. Except, Peter said she’d been poor most of her life. And poor people don’t make secrets the way rich people do.”

“Even if that’s true, she’s rich now, isn’t she? All we have to do is wait. She’ll do something, or has already done something and we’ll find a way to use it against her. She took everything from us, now we’ll have to take it back.”

His hands slipped down her arms and around to her breasts. He squeezed them gently in his hands, kneading the soft mounds.

“I thought you were giving me a shoulder massage.”

“You don’t want a shoulder massage. You want something else.”

“Maybe you’re right. A nice new Hermes bag would be nice. Those Louis Vuitton sunglasses I saw yesterday were to die for. A million dollars in my bank account would be a nice start.”

He pinched her nipple hard between his thumb and middle finger. She yelped and jumped but he held on. Finally, he loosened his grip and she sighed with satisfaction.

“Now what do you want?”

“I want you.”

He tore the expensive robe off of her and tossed it away.

“That’s right. And don’t forget it, either.”

Story Part 7

Here is the next installment of the story. Sorry for last week. I promise I'll get better.

The next day, Sylvia went to see Busby.

“Sylvia, how nice to see you.” Busby’s receptionist, Grace, greeted her enthusiastically. “It’s always nice to see you instead of another of the old men. That’s all who ever come in here is old men, and you know they never have anything interesting to talk about.”

Sylvia smiled at Grace. “Well, I’m afraid today, neither do I. Is Mr. Busby available?”

“I’m always available for you, Ms. Rowland,” Busby said from his office door. “Come into my office. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

“Would you mind bringing some in, please, Grace.”

Sylvia followed Busby into his office while Grace went to get the coffee. The office was large. A huge oak desk took up space in the middle of the office. Busby’s black leather chair sat behind the oak desk and two comfortable, brown visitors’ chairs sat across from Busby’s usual spot. There was a large picture window to the right as they came into the office. Bright sunshine shone through the window making the office warm and cheery even though outside it was very cold and windy. But the item in the room that commanded the most attention was the large family portrait that hung behind Busby’s desk.

The dark oak frame matched the desk. It was the four people in the painting, though, that really made the piece fascinating. Busby stood at the back, slightly behind his wife. In front of them were their two children when they were about ten and twelve. All four of them seemed happy to be there, posing for the painting, and also just being together. Just looking at the painting, the viewer could see that Busby was proud of his family and that he loved his wife dearly. It was obvious that his wife loved him just as much as he loved her. And finally, their children’s personality also shone through the painting in a way that a photograph couldn’t have captured. His daughter, the older child, had a mischievous look in her eyes as though she was ready to get into trouble and have fun doing it. Busby’s younger child was pensive. For a ten year old boy, he was more serious than his older sister and always had his nose in a book. In fact, a small table stood next to him in the portrait with a book on it. His hand rested on it as though he’d just put it down and yet was about to pick it up again if only the painter would finish.

“What brings you to the office, Ms. Rowland?”

“I got a phone call last night. From Will Cassidy. He’s been arrested for fighting. He was allegedly in a bar fight and broke someone’s nose.”

“I see. And he called you because he wanted you to pay the bail.”

Sylvia nodded as Grace came in with the coffee. “Will you need anything else?”

“No, thank you, Grace. Please hold my calls.”

“Of course, sir.” She left the office, closing the door behind her.

Busby removed his glasses and set them on the table. “I have received calls from the Cassidys in the past, even when James was alive. They are always asking for money. I hoped that since they had never met you before the funeral, or really at the reading of the will since I’m sure they didn’t introduce themselves at the funeral, that they would leave you in peace. I’m afraid that the only way you will be able to get them to stop asking for money is if you move to a place where they don’t know you’ve gone. Maybe even leave the Lower Mainland.”

“So they’ll keep asking for money?”

Busby nodded. “It’s likely. There’s something you should know about the Cassidy family. James has a drinking problem. William has a gambling problem. Clare and Vanessa both have shopping problems. And then there’s the next generation. They all have spending problems. Gordon has had his license revoked because of excessive speeding. On numerous occasions.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “There was a reason that James left everything to you. He knew that they would drain the bank accounts dry within a year. Two at the most. He didn’t want his hard work to go to people who didn’t appreciate it.”

“So what should I do?”

Busby laughed. “I think you should ignore them. I told James the same thing. He asked me years ago what I thought he should do about them. I told him then that the only way they’d learn is if he stopped rescuing them. He grew up poor. His family was very large and there was never enough money to feed and clothe everyone properly. He turns nothing into millions and he and Ruth lived well. Their kids wanted for nothing. Unfortunately, he continued to give them everything they asked for when they should have been getting things for themselves.

“I heard that Jim Pattison has three children. He told them all that his estate was not going to be broken up when he dies. He would leave the whole estate to only one of his three children. He said that the child who had the largest net worth would be the one who inherits everything. And now, not one of his children need his estate. They’re all incredibly wealthy in their own right.

“James Cassidy’s children on the other hand have been living on scraps from their father’s estate for their entire lives.”

Sylvia nodded. “I understand. So what should we do about Will?”

“Leave him to rot in jail. He’ll be out of your hair if he’s in jail.”

“Maybe I should do something. I could bring them all together and give them something from the estate and tell them that there won’t be any more if they run through it.”

Busby shook his head. “I don’t think it would be a good idea. It’s like the saying, give them and inch and they’ll take a mile. In this case it’s more like give them a dollar and they’ll take a million. They should have been cut off years ago.”

“It’s just hard. I shouldn’t have any of what he gave me. They should have it. Or a charity. And so when they ask for money, I want to give it to them. I don’t feel like it’s mine. There are nights I lie awake and think I should give it all away. And then there are times when I think that I can do something really good with it, I just need to figure out what that is. I just don’t know –” Her voice broke and she had to swallow past the tears that had formed in her eyes to finish. “What to do.”

“You are an extraordinary person, Ms. Rowland. Most people would think of this as though they had won the lottery. They wouldn’t be kept awake at night and crying because they don’t know how to make the world a better place now that they are able.”

“People who win the lottery know there’s a chance that it can happen. It’s something that they hope will happen. I didn’t even know I could hope for this. I didn’t buy a lottery ticket for it. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine.”

Busby sighed and stood up. He moved around his desk and sat in the other visitor’s chair. He reached for the box of tissues on his desk and held it out to Sylvia. “Ms. Rowland. Sylvia. It is yours. I understand your desire to give it all away. But that’s not what James wanted for you. He chose you because he knew that you would do what was right. I know that that is a lot to ask of you, but he did. And right now, you don’t know if you can do it. But James knew you could. And from the short time that I have known you, I know you can do it as well.”

Sylvia took a tissue and wiped her eyes. Then she gave him a wobbly smile. “My mom also says I can do it. I just need to believe it as well, I guess. I just don’t want to make a mistake.”

Busby laughed. “The good thing about getting James’ whole estate is that you can afford to make a mistake or two and get away with it. If you want, I can put together a list of charities that you can donate to and possibly become involved with.”

“That would help, I think.”

Story Part 6

After a few weeks' hiatus, I'm back with more. Sorry it took so long, but with Christmas, I was constantly busy. Anyway, here is the sixth installment. Enjoy.

After lunch, they went for a walk through the stores on Granville Island. They stopped in several stores before continuing on around the sea wall toward Vanier Park. They passed the Bard on the Beach site and then passed the Planetarium. Then they started along Cypress toward 4^th where Sylvia was going to catch the bus.

“There are some very nice houses along this street,” Peter said.

“Yeah. They have small yards, but they’re beautiful houses.”

“True, but beautiful houses on large property are rare around here. And expensive. These houses are what a million apiece?”

“More. Probably around 1.5 million give or take. The ones with yards are ten million plus.”

“Exactly. And who can afford that?”

Sylvia was quiet. She didn’t mention that she could by another two of the beautiful houses with the yards if she wanted to.

When they reached 4^th, they stood together at the bus stop waiting.

“So, you don’t drive?” Peter asked.

Sylvia shrugged. “My mom can’t drive and my dad died when I was little. We didn’t have the money for lessons, so I never had anyone to teach me. Now I live in Vancouver and so does my mom, so it seems like a waste of money at the moment. Maybe I’ll get my license later, but for now, I’m fine with the bus. It’s gotten me everywhere for the past twenty-four years, it can continue to do so for a while longer.”

“You know, Sylvia, you are a very remarkable person.”

The bus came into sight and Sylvia took out her wallet to find her bus pass.

“So do I get your number this time,” Peter asked.

Sylvia smiled at him. “Nope. Not this time. Maybe next time.”

“And when will next time be?”

“How about Friday? There’s a movie out that I’d like to see. What do you say?”

“I love movies. I’m in. Where do you want to meet?”

“Fifth Avenue Cinema on Burrard and 5^th. Let’s say at 5. That’ll make sure that the movie hasn’t started and we can get something to eat first.”

“I’ll be there.”

The phone woke Sylvia at 1:32 in the morning. She stumbled out of her bed and went to the sitting area where the phone was ringing incessantly.

“Hello?”

“Sylvia? It’s Will. Will Cassidy. I’m in jail. I need you to come bail me out.”

Sylvia frowned at the telephone. “Why do you think that I would do that?”

“My father always bailed me out of jail when I got locked in here. It’s a stupid charge. I didn’t do anything wrong. Anyway, you have his estate now, so you have to come and help me.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Will. I can simply go back to bed and pretend I never got this phone call.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the telephone. “You can’t.”

“Yes I can. When you’re father left me everything, there were no caveats and addendums attached to the will. I can do whatever I want with the money. If I want to come bail you out, I can. But if I don’t want to bail you out, I don’t have to. It’s my choice.”

“What am I going to do, then?”

“How old are you, Will?”

 Another pause. “Forty Nine.”

“Mm-hm. And why were you arrested?”

“I allegedly got into a bar fight and broke someone’s nose.”

“So you’re almost fifty and you’re doing stupid things like getting into bar fights.” Sylvia sat down on a chair and closed her eyes. “Do you have any idea how childish that sounds? You say that your father would have come and bailed you out? Well, maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he should have let you take the consequences of your actions and you wouldn’t be where you are right now.”

“That’s ridiculous. Now come and get me. I’d like to go home.”

“I know you would. Which is exactly why you’re staying right where you are. You’re going to deal with what you got yourself into. Maybe I’ll change my mind and come tomorrow. But it is quarter to two in the morning and I’m going back to my nice, warm, comfortable bed. Good night, Will.”

“Wait! Sylvia! You can’t do –”

Sylvia pressed the end button before she could hear him tell her what she couldn’t do. She wasn’t sure if she should go to the jail the next day and bail Will Cassidy out. It was true that if his father was still alive, he would have gone and done it. And if she hadn’t been James’ beneficiary, Will may have gotten his share of the estate and been able to bail himself out. But neither of those things had happened. If James had decided to leave his estate to charities, as he said in his letter was what he had been thinking when he changed his will, Will would not have anyone to turn to in this situation. Maybe that would have been better.

Regardless of what could have been, Sylvia now had all the money that the Cassidys thought should be theirs.

Story Part 5

I know, I know, I missed last week. Christmas has me a little frazzled right now. But here is Part 5 of my story. I hope it was worth the wait.

Peter got back to his office and checked his mail. He had two bills and some junk mail. He brought everything into his office and dropped it on his desk. When he sat down, he started his dinosaur computer and then leaned back in his chair to wait for it to boot up. It was going to take a while.

After a few seconds, his door swung open and she stormed in.

“What have you found out?”

“Nothing yet. I’m still working on it. I told you I would call you when I found something.”

“It looks like you’re hard at work.”

“Well, if you hadn’t come in here asking me what information I have, I would be looking for it right now. However, you did, so now I have to talk to you and explain what I’m doing. Spending time on you that is completely unproductive.”

“Don’t be a smart ass to me. I could buy and sell you.”

“That may be true, but it is also irrelevant. You still need me to do my job and I can’t do it if you’re constantly stopping me.”

She sat down across from him. “You really haven’t found anything yet?”

He shook his head. “She’s only twenty four. What do you expect her to have done? It takes years for people to get good skeletons in their closets. And besides that, before this, she was broke. Poor people don’t get skeletons the way rich people do. You may have to wait a few years to have something blackmail worthy.”

“I don’t want to wait a few years. I didn’t want to wait a few months. That estate should have been mine.”

Peter rolled his eyes and sat forward. Self-centred bitch. “I don’t really care. All I care about is getting paid. I’m charging you for this meeting. And now, if you’d kindly leave, I’ll get back to work.”

She glared at him for a moment and then stood up. “Fine. Get back to work. But I want results and I want them within the next two weeks. Or else you’re fired.”

He watched her as she stalked from the room. When she slammed the door behind her, he sighed and turned to his computer that had now booted up. He had to find something and find it soon. If he lost this job…

He glanced at the two bills that he had brought in from the mail.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen.

He was early for lunch. Sylvia had told him not to be late, so he was standing outside the Granville Island Market at 12:45. She, however, was even earlier.

She smiled when she saw him. “Early. I’m impressed. I thought guys had no sense of time.”

He shrugged. “I set an alarm.”

She laughed. It was a great laugh and he realized that he wanted to hear more of it.

“Shall we get something to eat?” she asked.

They went into the food court and ordered food, then sat at the one available table.

“It’s always so busy in here,” Sylvia remarked. “In the summer, I prefer to eat outside on the benches.”

“You come here a lot?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think I come here a lot. But I do like it here. Granville Island is always very interesting. And beautiful. I also like to walk to Vanier Park along the pathway.”

“It’s certainly a very pretty area.”

“Do you live around here?”

“I live in a small apartment on 7^th. Not too far from here. What about you?”

“I was in lived in Langley before but I moved to Vancouver when I started at UBC. I’ve lived here for three years now.”

“So are you almost done at UBC then?”

Sylvia shook her head. “I’m part time. I can’t afford to go full time.”

“What are you taking?”

“Business studies. Well, I was. I’m taking some time off. Reevaluating my options.”

“I see. What have you come up with?”

She laughed again, but it was more self-deprecating than humourous this time. “Nothing. I have no idea what I’m going to do. I know what I said I would do, but it doesn’t seem like the right thing anymore.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

She smiled. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just something I have to work out. I’ll figure it out.”

“If I can help in anyway, just let me know. I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Let’s talk about something else. What do you do?”

“I’m a private investigator. I mostly take pictures of cheating husbands. It’s a pretty boring job most of the time actually.”

“So why do you do it then?”

“It pays the bills. Most of the time, anyway. And occasionally, I get a really interesting case that makes everything worthwhile.”

“When was the last job like that?”

Peter leaned his head back and thought about it. “Probably would have to be the one a couple months ago. A little girl came to my office. She was maybe ten years old. She’d lost her dog and her parents couldn’t find him. They’d called up the SPCA but no one had brought the dog in. So she came to me on her way home from school. She had brought her life savings. Fifty-three dollars and twenty-nine cents. A lot of it was in pennies. She had brought her money in a zip lock bag and set it on my desk. She said, ‘Mr. Hartley? I would like to hire you to find my dog, Rudy.’

“So I said, ‘Of course. Ms?’ and she said, ‘Miss Parker.’ ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Parker,’ I told her. ‘Would you have a seat and tell me about your missing dog.’ She said he’d been missing for four days and she was quite worried about him. Her mom and dad had done everything they could think of but hadn’t found him. She had asked them to go to the police, but they said that the police didn’t look for lost dogs. She had read a book about a private investigator and so looked them up online to see where the closest one was to her school. She found me and there she was.

“I said to her, ‘Miss Parker, have you ever heard the term pro bono?’ She said she hadn’t. I told her it meant that the private investigator had decided that the case was so important that he was willing to do it for free. I said I would see if I could help her find her dog and she didn’t have to pay me a single cent. I called around to the SPCA and the veterinary clinics in the area. It turned out that Rudy had been hit by a car and that the person who had done it brought him to a veterinarian and paid the bill to have him fixed up. The only problem was that Rudy had managed to get out of his collar and so they didn’t know who he belonged to. I called up the Parkers and told them my news. Little Miss Parker showed up to the animal hospital with tears in her eyes and a bone with a big blue bow wrapped around it. The Parkers said they hadn’t thought to call a veterinarian. I said that if the dog, or even cat, gets a tattoo in their ear, most people will simply bring the animal to a veterinarian instead of to the SPCA. A vet can look up the serial number in their database and call the owner. And they don’t charge you to get your pet back. My dog had been a serial escape artist, you see. Well, the Parkers got Rudy back. He’s got a broken leg, but it’s well on its way to healing now. And little Miss Parker got her best friend back.”

“And you didn’t get paid anything?”

Peter shook his head. “I remembered all the times when my dog used to run away and how scared I was that he might never come home. Dalia Parker got Rudy back. That was enough payment for me.”

NaNoWriMo Part 4

Part 4 of the NaNoWriMo story. I shoud really start calling it something else since I'm not finishing it on time for National Novel Writing Month. Anyway, this one is longer but I didn't want to cut it off in the middle of a scene.

They spent a few hours touring the art gallery. They went to every floor and saw every piece of art that currently resided at the gallery. There were a few pieces that confused Sylvia, a few pieces that she thought were interesting, and a few pieces that really spoke to her. That being said, she felt no closer to the answer to the question that had plagued her for months. What was she going to do with her life?

She left the gallery somewhat defeated.

“So, where do we go from here?” Peter asked.

They stood on the steps of the art gallery looking down at the city of tents of the protesters.

“I don’t have any idea,” she responded.

“We could go for lunch. My treat. I know this great sushi place over on Burrard.”

“I don’t think so. I should get home. I have a lot of work to do.” She started down the steps and toward Howe Street.

He caught up to her as she reached the bottom of the stairs and started toward the bus stop. “Can I see you again?”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

“How will I know when you’ve made up your mind?”

She stopped and looked at him. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

He shook his head. “We had a good time, I thought. I’d like to do it again.”

“All right. Tomorrow, meet me at the Granville Island Market. 1:30. Don’t be late.” She looked down the street. “My bus is coming.” She fished in her purse for her wallet and pulled out the yellow bus pass. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The 44 UBC stopped and four other people got on the bus with her. They all had similar bus passes to hers. She sat down midway on the bus by a window and watched as Peter disappeared as the bus drove away from him.

She wasn’t sure what to make of him. She found that she was suddenly suspicious of everyone since James had died. She wasn’t sure who she could trust. Her name had been in The Province and The Vancouver Sun and since then people she had barely known before were suddenly her best friend.

It took thirty minutes to get back to the house on Drummond Drive in West Vancouver. Every time she took the bus downtown, she was always grateful that it went down 4^th and not 3^rd. She did not want to have to go past James Cassidy Junior’s house and be reminded of how she had gotten everything and James’ family had gotten nothing. She understood why he did it now. They were all selfish, callous people. That didn’t stop her from feeling bad that they now had nothing thanks to her.

When she got back to the house, Kelly and Victor were playing in her yard with her mother. Sylvia watched the Roberts kids bundled up in their warm rain coats and winter boots as they ran around her yard playing a game of tag. She missed being with them all the time but she didn’t miss all of the other chores that came with being a housekeeper and nanny. Mrs. Roberts had been very kind to her since everything changed. She invited Sylvia over for tea and let her take the kids to the park the way she used to whenever she wanted to. Mrs. Roberts had even befriended her mother, Katherine, when she moved into the huge house with Sylvia. She wasn’t sure how she would have made it through the last few months if it hadn’t been for the advice from Mrs. Roberts and Mr. Busby, and the support of her mother.

“Hi, everyone,” she called as she came into the yard. Kelly shrieked and ran to her, jumping into her arms almost before Sylvia was ready to catch her.

“You’re home. I thought you’d never get here. I have some important news.” At eight years old, Kelly thought that the fact that it would rain tomorrow was important news.

“What’s that?” Sylvia asked.

“I got picked to say my speech in front of the whole school. It’s about killer whales, you know.”

“That’s great, Kelly. When’s the big day?”

“Next Monday. Will you come? Mrs. Kirkpatrick said that I could invite four people. I already told Mommy and Daddy. They said they would try to come if they weren’t working. And I asked your mom. She said she would be delighted.”

“I’ll be there. Nothing could keep me away.”

“Great!” Kelly squirmed to get down now that she had what she wanted.

Victor moved next to Sylvia after his sister had gotten down and started running away toward Sylvia’s mother.

“I’ll be there, too,” he said quietly. “My speech was picked as well. It’s about how bullying can affect people even as adults.”

“I can’t wait to hear it. Why don’t you go play for a while longer before we go in for some hot chocolate.”

He smiled at her and ran off to where his sister was playing with her mother. Sylvia went inside and took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack inside the door. She went into the kitchen where she put a kettle on to boil. She got the hot chocolate mix out of the cupboard and poured some into four coffee mugs. She poured a generous amount of milk into two of the cups and then added the boiled water.

When the hot chocolate was ready she called the kids in. The kids sat at the table to drink their hot chocolates and Katherine asked how the trip to the art gallery had gone.

“Not bad. But I still don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t think art is going to be a good direction for me. I just don’t know what I should do. I could do anything but now I have too many choices.”

“When you were little, you wanted to help people. I understand you were going for a business degree because you thought it would help you get a good job. But I knew that it wasn’t what was going to make you happy. You just need to figure out what makes you happy and then turn that into a career. You have the ability to do that now.”

Sylvia sighed and leaned against the counter, watching the kids drink their hot chocolate. “I know. But there are so many things that deserve attention. What should I focus on? James left me his estate, I want to do something good with the opportunity he gave me.”

“So you didn’t get anything from the art exhibit?”

Sylvia shook her head. “No. But I did meet someone. He seems nice and I’m seeing him again tomorrow.”

“A boy?”

“Mom, he was older than me. He had to be at least twenty seven. I don’t think he can be called a boy anymore.”

Katherine laughed. “When you get to be my age, everyone under the age of forty is a boy or a girl. So tell me about this boy you met.”

“I think he was interested in me, but I don’t know. Ever since the articles ran in the papers there have been a lot of people who seem to be interested in me but are really only interested in my money. Peter didn’t mention it at all though, so he may not have realized who I am. I hope not anyway.”

Kelly set her cup down with a thunk and pronounced, “I’m done! Can we play the Wii now?”

“What do you do with your cup when you’re finished with it?” Sylvia asked.

Kelly sighed heavily and climbed down from her chair. She took her cup from the table and put it in the sink. Then she turned to look at Sylvia expectantly.

“You can go play now. Thank you for putting your cup away.”

The little girl smiled a large, gap-toothed smile and raced off to the play room where the Wii was set up on a sixty inch flat screen television. James had decorated this room with the games and toys after he met Sylvia, Victor, and Kelly. Sylvia suspected that he had been lonely and wanted them to want to spend time there. They hadn’t needed him to buy the expensive things for them, but he didn’t know another way to act at the time. He only understood people who sold their love as a commodity.

Victor finished his drink slowly and got up to put it away. He carefully set the cup down in the sink upside down so that the last drips would drain into the sink.

“Thank you for putting your cup away, Victor.”

He smiled, too and went to play with his sister.

“You’re very good with them,” Katherine said as they followed the kids into the play room.

Sylvia shrugged. “They like to be able to do things for themselves. It gives them independence. But more than that, they like to know that someone is watching and is appreciative. The Roberts’ are good people, but they don’t seem to have enough time for their children.”

Kelly had put Just Dance 3 into the game console and was already dancing like a maniac. Victor was dancing as well. When Sylvia had met the kids, Victor wouldn’t have ever played a game like Just Dance. He would have sat and watched Kelly have all the fun. Slowly, Sylvia had got him to participate as well.

After they had danced themselves into exhaustion Sylvia looked at the time. “Okay, guys, it’s time to go home.”

“Awww! But why?” Kelly asked.

Victor had been about to go for his shoes and jacket, but Kelly’s protest stopped him.

“Because your mom is home now and she will want to see you and ask about your day.”

Kelly pouted but went for her shoes and jacket. Victor, seeing his sister’s attempt at staying defeated, went as well.

There had been a time when Sylvia first started when she had used a similar line to get the kids to see their mother and Kelly had protested by saying that her mother didn’t care how her day had gone. They went downstairs and saw Mrs. Roberts and she had listened with divided attention while the kids told her about their day. That night, Sylvia had told Mrs. Roberts what Kelly had said and immediately things began to change. Mrs. Roberts listened closely to her children now.

Sylvia put her own shoes and jacket on and walked the kids to their house. Mrs. Roberts came to the door to let them in.

“Hi guys, your dinner is just about ready, why don’t you go wash up and then you can tell me about your day?”

Both Kelly and Victor hugged their mother and went to do as she asked without complaint.

“Sylvia, you don’t have any idea how much I appreciate you still watching the kids during the day. I feel so much more comfortable knowing they’re with someone I trust. And you’ve helped them so much.”

“It’s no problem at all. Really. My mother and I love to have them. I understand why James always invited us over now. The house is far too big for just the two of us.”

“You’re not thinking of moving, are you?”

“Not right now, no, but maybe in the future. I’m still making a lot of decisions. I wanted to mention though that the kids invited me and my mother to their speech readings. We both said we’d come, but I wanted to make sure it was okay with you, as well.”

Mrs. Roberts laughed. “Of course it is. I was the one who prompted the kids to ask. They were afraid Katherine would say no.”

Sylvia smiled. “But not that I’d say no. I see they understand me well.”

“They do. Well, I should go. They’ll be at the table waiting. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sylvia walked back to her house. On the way she looked up at the three story structure and wondered again how she had come to own something so absurdly expensive. The house was worth over fifteen million dollars. An old Victorian house sitting on a 38,000 square foot lot, it had six bedrooms and eight bathrooms. She still hadn’t figured out what to do with it. It was far too big for only her and her mother.

She knew she would have to make some decisions soon. She only had a few more weeks before she had to choose her classes for the winter semester at UBC. By that time, she hoped she will have figured it out.

NaNoWriMo Part 3

I'm still working on the story, but I don't think I'm going to make 50,000 words this month. That said, I will continue to write it so that I can continue to post it for any and all who are interested in reading it.

Peter Hartley looked at the building in front of him and wondered what he was doing here. This was not where he was supposed to be going with his life. He was a licensed private investigator, not a puppet. But he needed the money or else he may not be able to eat this month. Or pay is rent on his tiny apartment/office. If he didn’t have a place to do business, he couldn’t make money to pay for anything.

So he’d taken the job. It was a terrible job that went against every moral he had, but it paid well. All he had to do was find out some bad things about a person he didn’t know. How hard could it be? It was just like any other job he’d ever done as a PI.

Except for the one minor difference. In the week that he had been working on the assignment, he had not come across a single bad thing about this girl. Not even a parking ticket. Granted, she didn’t have a car, but that wasn’t the issue. There was nothing that his clients could use against this girl and if he found nothing, he didn’t get the bonus at the end of the job. The bonus would take care of his rent for the next three months.

So he decided to do the unthinkable. He was going to get to know the person he was investigating. It was what the client had wanted him to do in the first place, but he had maintained that he would be able to find something the old fashioned way, through research. However, you can’t find something that has never been recorded. It was possible that this girl had some secret that couldn’t be found on any database or in any file. He had to go to the source to find out.

Thus, he was here, at the Vancouver Art Gallery, to meet the girl that apparently did nothing wrong.

He went in through the main entrance, ignoring the protestors on the front lawn. They had been “occupying Vancouver” for weeks now, through rain and bitter cold nights. Peter thought they were all insane. The peaceful protest wasn’t going to change anything. The rich would remain rich. The poor would remain poor. A small percentage of the population would still retain the vast majority of the wealth in the country.

Peter didn’t care. He got to the front desk, paid the $17.50 admission and went in search of the feature exhibit: the Audain Collection. That was what Sylvia Rowland had come to the Art Gallery to see.

He found her admiring an Emily Carr painting. Her unruly auburn hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that curled down her back. Her green eyes moved over the painting quickly, lingering for a moment on the people in the background of the picture. She was shorter than he imagined her to be, even though his dossier stated that she was only 5’3”.

All at once he was overwhelmed by the thought that he shouldn’t be doing this. He should not be prying into the woman’s life so that other people can use the information against her.

When she turned away from the painting, she looked right at him and he had to struggle to keep the guilt from his expression. She smiled at him and was about to walk away. He had to say something.

“Hi,” he said, stalling, trying to think of something. Should have come up with something before coming in here, idiot.

“Hello,” she said to him.

He had managed to make her stop for a moment. He had to think of something else to say. “So, you like art?”

Of all the stupid things you could say.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. My name is Peter. I just couldn’t help but notice you looking at the Emily Carr painting. It’s quite something isn’t it?”

“It is. She uses such interesting colours.”

“Are you here by yourself?” he asked, looking around as though he was expecting to find someone with her, even though he wasn’t.

“Yes.”

“That’s too bad. It’s nicer to be able to talk about the pieces with someone.”

“True. But I really just wanted to take a look at some art, see if anything sparked my interest. I figured the best place to see art is at the Vancouver Art Gallery.”

“Spark your interest?”

She nodded. “I’m trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I really don’t know. I thought I did. But then things changed and now suddenly I have more options than I know what to do with.”

“It’s nice to have options.”

“Yes, but also makes it more difficult to choose.”

“I’d like to help, if I could.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

He spread his hands and tried to look trustworthy. “Honestly? Because you’re interesting. I saw you standing there and I just wanted to get to know you.”

It wasn’t a lie, exactly. He did think she was interesting. She was young, had inherited a large estate worth a fortune, and seemed to be a bona fide good person. Peter didn’t meet many good people in his line of work. Now, here he was trying to prove she really wasn’t what he hoped she was.

She looked at him for a long moment before speaking again. “I don’t think you can help me choose what direction I am going to take for the future. However, I suppose that if you really are interested, we can walk around in here together. If you’re still interested when we leave, I’ll consider what can come next. My name is Sylvia, by the way.”

Peter smiled and tried not to look too relieved. If this hadn’t worked, he doubted he’d have gotten another shot.