Sophisticated New York playwright Lori Scott feels like a failure when her producer boyfriend calls it quits on both their relationship and her first play. On a dare, she throws a dart at a map and ends up moving to Brigham City, Utah, planning to set aside her writing, religion, and men. But fate has something else in mind. When she accidentally lights a fire, Lori has no idea of the sparks that lie ahead.
Will she be able to resist the charms, persistence, and testimony of local firefighting hero John Wayne Walker?
Or will she turn her back on the best thing that's ever happened to her because of old hurts and fears?
Will she be able to resist the charms, persistence, and testimony of local firefighting hero John Wayne Walker?
Or will she turn her back on the best thing that's ever happened to her because of old hurts and fears?
Before the chick flicks, there was a garden club ...
Excerpt from How To Stuff A Wild Zucchini
Excerpt from How To Stuff A Wild Zucchini
THE GARDEN GURU
Q: Dear Dr. Dobson: I’ve just moved to Utah and the soil at my new home, in Taylorsville, is clay that clumps horribly and doesn’t seem to drain. Can you give me any suggestions for preparing my garden? (Matthew)
A: Dear Matthew: Oh, my dear, you are absolutely right. Clay soil does not drain at all and your plants will need a better foundation. Add some organic material to improve the texture and biological activity of the soil. Peat moss is also good, as it will loosen the clumps. I wish you all the best with your new garden -- you can make it work. I, also, am moving, though only temporarily. I will be taking a long-awaited three-month sabbatical to China. Never fear, my friends, I shall not leave you without gardening advice. I will provide a knowledgeable substitute while I’m gone; I will be sure to introduce that person in my last column before they try their hand...
Chapter One
“I am not upset.” Lori Scott chucked the dart the length of her old bedroom and it thunked soundly into the center of the board.
Her older brother Greg whistled. “I have to tell you how impressed I am with your non-anger issues.”
A foot taller than her own five-foot-five, he’d maintained his track star physique, looking lean and athletic in his official attorney’s suit. One of her favorite people, he could get away with saying things to her that others couldn’t. Sometimes. “You’re just jealous because you’re not winning.”
“You are absolutely right.” He squinted in concentration and tossed his own dart. It landed in the outer circle. “Ah, darn.” Turning back to her with a flourish, he smiled. “So, Lori, tell me again how happy you are. Convince me.”
She sighed in resignation, leaned back against her old wooden desk, and folded her arms as he crossed the room. She knew he wouldn’t stop until she told him the truth, so she might as well get it over with. “Let’s see. Where to begin? Oh, yes, I remember now. My life stinks.”
“Because your play closed?”
“If anyone could actually remember my name, I might have a chance at becoming a Jeopardy answer.” She swept her hand through the air dramatically like a game show host. “What is one week?”
Greg chuckled. “One week?”
“That’s what will flash onto the screen, the buzzer will sound, and then a hopeful contestant will answer, The length of time it took Lori Scott’s first play to flop.” Lori sighed. “One lousy week for one lousy play.”
“So it didn’t last long. How many people can say they’ve even had a play on Broadway? Anyway, I still love ‘ya.”
She huffed. She had written one of the shortest-running plays ever produced on Broadway. Still aching from the humiliation, she lifted another dart and took aim.
She was presently not answering calls, and had come running home to Mommy’s house in Schenectady, New York, with her tail between her legs. But she couldn’t stay here, either. Already people were beginning to realize she was back, and it would be harder to dodge calls and visits from neighbors and friends here than from her Manhattan acquaintances.
Besides, it was said you couldn’t go back home, and it was true. This place had too many memories she’d been trying to outrun for too long. She missed the style of Manhattan--the Prada clothes and Manolo shoes in elegant black, the nightclubs, the feeling of being where everything was fashionable. And she missed the energy and pace of a town where even the garbage men ran to and from their trucks. But Manhattan was out of the question for now. She’d already sublet her apartment and she didn’t want to run into her ex-boyfriend, either.
No, she had to find somewhere else to go. Somewhere she could just lie low. Where she could find a job and try to get her finances -- and her life -- back in order. She just didn’t know where that place would be. She blinked back tears. She’d invested so much of herself into both her play and her relationship. And now, just like that, they were both gone. “I’m going to move someplace where people don’t know who I am and are unaware I’m a loser.”
Greg smiled at her. “Shouldn’t you put your hand to your forehead or something? For maximum effect?”
“Leave me alone, you big bully.”
He pulled out the two darts and set them on the desk. Then, towering over her, he patted her head gently in the manner he knew darn well infuriated her. “Don’t worry. Your next play will run longer.”
“I hate when you do that.” Lori pushed his arm away. “Why do you have to be so freakishly tall?”
“I think the pertinent question is why do you have to be so freakishly short?”
“Dinner’ll be ready soon.”
Startled, they both turned toward the sound of their mother’s voice in the doorway. A plumper, size-fourteen version of Lori, dressed in black jeans and a pink tee-shirt partially covered by a flour-dusted apron, she smiled at her two children.
“Besides,” Greg said, “can I help it if Mom wanted me around three years before she wanted you? I had a head start on the growth chart and you simply refused to catch up.” He grabbed his mother and twirled her around.
“Stop that, you silly thing.” Evelyn Scott laughed as she turned back to Lori. “Honey, don’t you worry. Lots of people have plays that don’t do so well to begin with. You can write another. Or maybe someone else will eventually produce this one.” As always, her voice had just the right amount of loving encouragement.
Usually Lori would have allowed herself to be mollified, but not while steeping in self pity. “The word you’re searching for is flop, Mom. That’s different than plays that don’t do so well.”
“Well, didn’t you tell me Nicholas Adams, the big producer, wanted to see your next play when you finish it?”
“I don’t care about plays any more. I don’t ever want to write plays again.” She watched the two of them exchange a glance. Lori picked up another dart, drew back, and threw. If she imagined Nicholas Adams’s face centered on the dart board, then the dart hit him squarely on the nose. Big producer--ha! If her mother only knew.
She didn’t need any more of Nick’s patronizing attitude or, even worse, his trying to convince her it wasn’t natural to wait for marriage to be intimate, and that the way to success was to sleep her way there. With him, of course. The pig.
Lori turned and forced a smile. “Nicholas and I are no longer dating.”
“Oh,” said her mother. “I didn’t know you were dating.”
Greg said, “Don’t worry, Lori. You know the old saying: There are lots more fish in the sea.”
“How very comforting. Thank you.” Lori rolled her eyes at him. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter any more. I plan on moving somewhere far from Schenectady and Manhattan, both.”
“Like where?” Her mother looked worried.
Lori paused. “I’ll go any place as long as no one there knows about my stupid play.”
“Any place?” Greg’s dark eyes lit up. “Outer Mongolia?”
“Now, Greg, she’s just talking.” Lori’s mother touched Lori’s arm. “You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. Your room is always here for you.”
It sure was. Down to the shelf holding her stuffed animals and college textbooks, and the desk she’d studied at for high school exams. Unfortunately, moving back to her mother’s home after being on her own in Manhattan made her feel like an even bigger loser.
She looked at her mother, and her heart softened. Evelyn would be back in the kitchen in moments, putting the finishiing touches on a delicious meal for her children. Lori hugged her. “Thanks for the offer.”
“Lori can’t move in here.” Her brother shook his head. “You’d expect her to attend church, and she doesn’t do church.”
“Well, maybe if she did do church,” her mother said gently, “her life would fall into place.”
As if it was really that simple. “You mean like it did thirteen years ago?”
“Your father--”
“You know Lori doesn’t like talking about Dad.” Greg turned to his sister. “But Dad would like to see you.”
“I bet.” Lori eyed him, the old anger putting an edge on her voice. “Look, I’m glad you’ve maintained a relationship with him, Greg, but don’t expect me to. In fact, back off.”
“Okay, backing off the whole Dad subject.” He saluted smartly. “Back to the play subject. Quit whining. You’re only twenty-six and you’ve already had a play produced on Broadway. That’s got to count for something.”
“Not when it closes one week later.”
“Ah. Back to the pity party. Okay, then, are you serious about getting away? Would you just pick up and go . . .” He snapped his fingers. “Like that?”
Somehow the idea intrigued her. She did want to get away. From her humiliating Broadway flop. From the looks and whispers. From the new screenplay she hadn’t been able to complete and a career that felt like the totally wrong choice. And, especially, from men like Nicholas Adams, who had proven himself to be far too much like her father.
If she really could escape her feelings of failure and discouragement with something as simple as a geographical move, she would do it just like that. Smiling, knowing it really wasn’t an option, she said, “Yeah. I think I would.”
“Hold that pose.” Greg disappeared out the door, calling back, “I’ll be right back.”
“Turn the thermostat down while you’re out there.” Sitting on her bed, she pulled her bare feet into a yoga pose and glanced at her mother. “I thought older women were supposed to want their houses Arctic cold.”
“I guess I’m not as old as you think.” Her mother paused, as if wary of upsetting Lori. “Have you had a chance to finish your screenplay? At Christmas you said you were nearly done.”
Lori shook her head. “I can’t seem to finish that, either. Nothing’s going right for me.” She hated how whiny she sounded, but she had given herself a full week to feel the pain of her world shattering--her play flopping and her boyfriend cheating on her--and she planned to make full use of the remaining four days.
Greg trotted back, unfolded a map of the United States, and pinned it over the dart board before stepping back, motioning grandly. “Okay, sis. Toss and let’s see where you’re moving.”
Their mother frowned. “That’s your silliest idea yet.”
Lori laughed for perhaps the first time in the past three days. She knew Greg was teasing her, trying to cheer her up, and it had worked. The idea intrigued her.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Greg looked pensive. “I think sledding off the garage roof when I was ten might have been sillier.”
“You didn’t!” their mother protested. “You could have been maimed. Or killed.”
He grinned at Lori. “So, what do you think? You wanna take a shot at a new place to live?”
“Sure.” Her heart actually lightened at the thought, and she rose from the bed. She smiled at Greg’s teasing, but it suddenly struck her that she could really do it. “I’ll play along.”
“So you agree you’ll move wherever the dart lands?” She could tell he was trying to suppress a grin. “Because otherwise, this is just a game.”
More and more intrigued by the idea, Lori nodded. “I’ll move anywhere the dart lands, unless I hit water, of course.”
“Promise? Because with you out of the way, all of Mom’s homemade cookies are mine.”
He might not be serious, but she suddenly was. It might just be a solution. In fact, this could solve her problem entirely. She wouldn’t even have to choose where to go. She took a deep breath. She had nothing more to lose. She’d already lost her career, her boyfriend, and her pride. She wanted a few months away to think things through. Why not go with the toss of a dart? Wasn’t the definition of insanity doing the same things and expecting different results? She was ready for different. She’d do it. “I promise. I’ll let fate make my decision for me.”
My great cover placed second in LDS Publisher's cover contest.
(Thanks, Deseret Book and Heather Ward!) |
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