Tuesday Tales: from the Word EASY

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Why is it that the older you get, the faster time flies? Here it is the end of June. Half of 2022 is over and done. Soon, we’ll be talking about Christmas again. For my Canadian friends, enjoy Canada Day on Friday, while I wish my American friends a Happy Fourth of July on Monday.

This week’s word prompt is EASY. This is the last post from Trouble with Eden, my contemporary romance.

Jackson’s books sold well, and with the money from the sale of the condominium and what he’d gotten from his mother, he wasn’t financially strapped in any way and was willing to invest not only his time but his money into the business.

Now, she felt confident that they would be able to make things work. Not only had he listened to her, he’d accepted her opinions and had treated her like an equal, the way Dad always had. This time, instead of acting on Dad’s suggestions, she would be taking the lead. She’d known from the start that Jackson would be as different from Jeff as day from night, and he’d proved it.

But it hadn’t been his decision to leave Toronto, the garage, or his books that had filled their lunchtime conversation. He’d wanted to talk about Dwayne, probing her memory about her father, making her dwell on the happy recollections from her childhood. It had been so easy to talk to him, to share all the memories that would’ve brought her to tears a few days ago. The burgeoning attraction she’d felt yesterday had grown exponentially. Could something more come of it? Might Lorraine and her crazy idea about them fated to be together, as her mother and Dwayne had been, have merit?

After they’d finished eating, E J had taken Jackson through the house to see Dad’s oil paintings, explaining what memories they’d captured. She’d taken him into her own room, expecting a comment on the pink canopied bed and frilly drapes, the same ones her mother had chosen all those years ago, the ones she’d been unwilling to change, fearing it would sever her from her mother’s memory once and for all. She’d forgotten about the small, framed sketch Dad had made of her dressed as Tinkerbell for Halloween when she was six. That had been just after they’d moved here… before Mom has lost the baby. There’d never been a second one, and then uterine cancer had taken her.

“You know, I could use that image to create a character in my new book,” he’d said, examining the sketch. “Would you mind if I reproduced it?”

“If you want to,” she’d tried to be nonchalant but was secretly pleased he would want to add a drawing of her to his books. No one else would know it was her, but it would still be a thrill to see one of Dad’s drawings in print.

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales