Bentley’s Back-Seat Drivers
Jenny Page As the sun begins to set along the banks of the Chickotee, my stomach begins to flutter. “Big night!” Mom hollers as I leave the house. Big night indeed. It’s…
soap opera
Itsy Bitsy is Tipsy & *Ritzy: Mrs. McMurtry Re-emerges to Run the Show
* ritzy (adj.): luxurious or fashionable; being in a position of prominence or control; impressively or ostentatiously fancy or stylish Yes, that! Bless me, dear reader, for it has been…
Cassie’s Deal with the Devil on the (Not-so) Deep (Not-so) Blue Chickotee
Madam’s morning voice message chirped like an overly-caffeinated mockingbird. “Cassie, darling … it’s the Madam calling. So sorry the book club hadn’t been by the restaurant in a few weeks…
Bernie Falls in Line
Like I had a choice. (See previous.)
Yachts, Yahtzee & Bored Games
Board games, or bored games?” That is the question I had posed to Miller, the stalwart concierge, when I went down to fetch Mother’s dry cleaning. I couldn’t hazard a…
The Begging Tour, Part 4: Small Towns, Small Minds, Big Questions
We’re coming up on Sheriff Paul’s home, Brantley behind the wheel and me in the backseat with Bernie, who seems particularly reticent today. Journalists are supposed to remove all emotion…
Wanda Gets Herself Stu-ed Up
Four voice messages. No return calls. And I thought Mayor Charlotte and I had made a connection. I simply want to understand why I, the head of the tourism bureau…
The Begging Tour, Part 3: Ambush in the Sitting Room
The Hughes’ cat may have run off into the night, but its essence was everywhere in the family’s sitting room. Though its style was Victorian to the hilt – satin…
“Father’s gone.”
My mother was inconsolable. The cat had escaped into the rainy night 12 hours earlier and, when he hadn’t returned by daybreak, she, of course, called me. “You’re the one…