Tuesday Tales: From the Word PLANT

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. The second Monday in October is Thanksgiving Day in Canada. This year, I have more to be grateful for than ever since my husband is recovering from serious surgery. He still has a long way to go, but we’ll do it together.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been reading excerpts from Pumpkin Spice. I wasn’t happy with the way things were going–too much saying not enough showing, and I’d somehow backed myself into a corner. So, during my time away from the hospital, I’ve been working on that. One of the problems I find with first-person narration is that it narrows the scope of what the heroine and the reader can know. The book is now third person POV with both Walt and Anca (now with a Ph.D. in Psychology) contributing to the story and Hester starting us off. Poor thing. In this revised version, her accuser was the victor, but believe me, she got her revenge. So, we are now looking at a Mild Paranormal Romantic Comedy. Have a look at this week’s excerpt. Our word is PLANT. I used the verb form with PLANTED. I’m continuing with Pumpkin Spice.

Anca glanced at the clock in the hall. It was past three. Walt would be calling soon.

“I’ve got coffee, buttermilk flapjacks, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and lots of that maple syrup you boys like,” Elvira said. “Come into the kitchen.” She turned to me. “Can I get you anything, Dr. Cole?”

The title still surprised me.

“Just Anca, please. I won’t say no to a cup of coffee. I’ll grab it now, and then I’m going down to The Taproom.”

“Why?” The man introduced as Brian challenged me.

Because you obviously don’t want me to. She frowned. And why is that?

Something about these men set Anca on edge. While she’d hoped to close down early, the look on Brian’s face changed her mind. If he and his buddies wanted the bar closed, then she would keep it open.

“I want to make sure everything is ready for tonight. Since I have nothing else to do, I’ve decided to extend The Taproom’s hours.”

“You can’t do that,” Emilio interrupted before she could answer.

“Excuse me? You may be staying here as guests, but this is mine and Aunt Selma’s home and livelihood. What we do or don’t do here is none of your business.”

Maybe she’d been a bit abrupt, but she was way past taking orders from jerks like him and Stu.

“How much later would you stay open?” Ralph interjected in that ingratiating tone of his that turned her stomach.

“Maybe until eleven or twelve. I need to discuss it with Colby and the tour operator. I’ll be opening the bar sooner in the day as well, probably around four. I might even have Happy Hour.”

The scowl on his face would’ve terrified a lesser person.

Every one of the bells and whistles in Anca’s head went off in a jarring cacophony. For the first time in her life, she wished she and the ghost of Hester Cole could communicate. She would give anything to know what was really happening here because she was damn sure it had nothing to do with photographing ghosts and righting historical wrongs.

Holding the coffee mug Elvira had given her, she took a step toward the door leading to The Taproom when suddenly she was jerked around and firmly planted in one of the empty places at the table.

You can’t get answers, child if you don’t ask questions. Listen and learn.

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