I want to welcome Rhonda
Strehlow! First I’d love you to introduce yourself.
Tell us about your
latest release.
My latest, and first, release is Second Act.
Cassie Burns loses her husband and her children try to
persuade her to buy a condo and act like a grandmother. Instead she takes her first solo trip to
Eagle River, Wisconsin where she had a chance encounter with mysterious Kurt
Troy and Will Harley who introduces her to the beauty and wonders of farming.
Cassie begins a dual existence of soul-affirming work with
Will’s family interspersed with spontaneous, intense romantic encounters with
Kurt who turns out to be a popular retro singer.
After a wonderful summer, a tragedy sends Cassie packing and
heading for home. Kurt intercedes and
invites her to stay with him. There time
alone is intensely sexual but the reality of living in a booze, sex and drug
culture intrudes on their haven. Before
a big award presentation, in an effort to erase the affects of time, Cassie
become fanatical bout vanity surgeries, exercise, pills and bulimia and ends up
in the hospital.
As she recovers she needs to decide how she will play out
her Second Act.
Now I have a few questions
for you – I have found readers do like to know fun things about us writers.
1.) Who is your
favorite villain – it can be from a book (even one of yours), movie or TV show.
And why?
The book I’m currently working on has a person called Brett
who messed with the life of the protagonist when she was young. I’m enjoying creating him because I don’t
want to develop a one-dimensional evil character so my challenge is to
understand why he does what he does and help my readers relate to him.
2.) Who is your favorite
character out of your books? Why?
I like Kurt Troy because he is alive and sensuous and
flawed. In other words, an ideal man!
3.) What do genre do
you write? What made you pick that one?
I write romance. I
picked that one because my first book was sensuous and I didn’t really know
what category it fit in. I still
don’t. Perhaps it is chick lit. I’m still learning this authoring business!
4.) What are you
working on now?
After my second book, Separate Lives was chosen by Melange,
I knew I wasn’t done telling the story of auctioneer Honor Horton, who is my
main character. There are so many venues
left to explore with her so my third book, One More Night, tells another
chapter in her life.
5.) What got you to
start writing?
I’ve been writing for most of my life but when I was
downsized from my job suddenly I was given the gift of time thereby reducing
the barriers to pursuing my dream.
6.) Where do you get
your ideas from?
Everywhere! Overheard
conversations, reading people’s faces, attending auctions—I’m an auction
junkie! Actually the genesis of my first
book came from a tiny incident that I included in the book. I was walking down the streets of Chicago and
a handsome man grabbed my arm and warned me not to swing my purse. We instantly connected and spent the next two
hours talking. He never told me his name
and I never saw him again but he is Kurt Troy.
I wonder if he realizes what an impact he had on me!
7.) What would people
who read your work be surprised to find out about you?
I try to balance the time I spend in my head with physical
activity. I love to garden, bike and
even split wood!
8.) Do you have any
special talents?
I make great homemade breads!
9.) What was the one
piece of advice you received when you were an aspiring author that has stuck
with you? Why?
I’m an introvert so I never told anyone I wanted to be an
author.
10.) If you could talk
to any famous figure (present, past or fictional) who would it be and what
would you talk about?
In Second Act there is a character named Winston. He is a virile, 70 year old who is an avid
reader and still a dreamer. I would like
to talk with him about how he keeps his dreams alive.
11.) What song would
you say describes your life?
Anything by Phil Collins but Separate Lives just speaks to
me.
12.) If you could come
back as any animal – what would it be?
Something sleek, perhaps a panther.
Second Act
When CASSIE BURNS' husband dies her children think she should move
into a condo and act like a grandmother. Instead she plans her first solo trip
to a resort in Eagle River, Wisconsin.
In a chance encounter she meets mysterious Kurt Troy whose touch
makes her "buzz" with excitement and Will Harley who introduces her
to the beauty and wonders of farming.
Cassie begins a dual existence of soul-affirming work with Will's
caring family interspersed with spontaneous, intense romantic encounters with
Kurt.
When Will's ex-wife returns, Cassie reluctantly decides to head
back to her safe and predictable future. On the way home, she unexpectedly
encounters Kurt who invites her to move in with him and she impulsively agrees.
Their time alone is intensely sexual but the reality of living in
booze, sex and drug culture intrudes on their haven. Before a big awards
presentation, in an effort to erase the affects of time, Cassie becomes
fanatical about vanity surgeries, exercise, pills, and bulimia until she
overdoses two days before the big night and ends up in the hospital.
As she recovers, how does Cassie choose to play out her Second
Act?
Excerpt
Chapter One
What day is it? It is spring? Possibly early spring I think. Or is
it late winter? It has been a long time since I knew or cared what month it is
let alone what day it is. I didn’t know I could feel this tired. It has been a
long time coming. How long? I have to think, almost nine years. I looked in the
mirror and do not recognize the person I see there: lank gray hair, when did I
color it last? My skin is sallow; I look ill. I can’t remember the last time I
slept through the night. Always listening. And waiting. When was the last time
I exercised? Or saw the sun. Even my brain feels fuzzy.
I squint as I step onto the deck. Lassie walks out behind me;
poor, neglected dog. She needs a walk and a good brushing. She looks hopeful so
I pick up the leash and clip it to her collar. She starts tugging and I let
her; all of the obedience school tricks escape me now. It is just the two of us
walking down the street. Tentatively old Mr. Kamps waves. I know he wants to
talk but I just nod, point to Lassie and walk on. My friend, Juliet, is weeding
her flowers but doesn’t look up so I dodge that bullet, too. I don’t want to
talk. No more words of sympathy, thank you. We walk faster. Lassie’s excited.
I’m numb.
The neighborhood is quiet, well it is Tuesday at—I check my watch,
and it isn’t on my wrist. I don’t know where I put it; where I have been time
didn’t matter.
It is two hours before we get back to the house. Lassie is spent;
she walks in a neat little circle then lies on the carpet in front of the sofa.
That used to be her watch station since Gordie spent so much of the last few
years in that same spot.
I’m still numb. When we enter I experience incredible quiet—the
quiet of emptiness. Except for Lassie, I’m alone. I take in the fact that I’m
alone for possibly the first time in all of my adult life.
I feed Lassie, look into the refrigerator and take of note of the
casseroles and jellos; people are still, generously, bringing food. My stomach
churns at the sight so I grab a can of Monster and quickly shut the door. When
did I become addicted to this drink that makes me hyper-vigilant? But I sigh as
the first sip gives me a pleasant buzz. This must be how alcoholics feel. I can
picture myself at a Monsters Anonymous meeting. “Hi, I’m Cassie Burns and I am
a Monster addict.” I take two long swigs and put the rest in the refrigerator.
I’m pacing myself.
It is time I do some work; clean the living room; strip the bed,
the kitchen floor needs scrubbing, the refrigerator needs cleaning. And when
was the last time I did the laundry? Do I have any clean underwear left? I sit
down. Where should I start? There is so much to do. I walk into the bedroom and
shut the door. I can’t sleep but I’m beginning to unwind. I hear the phone ring
but don’t move. I don’t care who is calling. They can leave a message.
“Mom, answer!” It is my oldest daughter. She sounds impatient.
She’s often impatient. A rising young healthcare executive she plans to be CEO
of her hospital by the time she is 30. She is calling to give me more
well-thought out advice. I’ll listen to it later. Courtney’s advice always goes
down better with a long cold drink. Courtney often acts like she is the mother;
some days it is easier to just let her believe that.
I drift off. I awake with a start. I didn’t know where I am and it
is dark. Lassie’s wet nose touches my hand. O.K. I’ll feed you, but the bed
won’t let me go. She whines a little and then the lights go on in the kitchen.
I’m not expecting visitors. Lassie doesn’t seem concerned so I tousle my hair
with my fingers as Lucas, the baby at 22, knocks on the door and gives me one
of his enveloping hugs.
“Were you sleeping, Mom? Are you O.K.?” He looks tenderly into my
face.
I give my stock answer, “Always.”
“M-o-o—o-m,” He drags out the single syllable word.
I smile at my soft-hearted son and run my fingers through his
crazy hair. “The question is how are you doing?”
“I miss him.” His expressive face droops.
I don’t say anything. Instead, I rummage in the refrigerator, “Chicken
pot pie, tuna casserole, orange jello with oranges, orange jello with
pineapple, orange jello with fruit cocktail. Choose your orange jello,” I
challenge him.
He takes my hands and leads me to the couch. “Later, Mom what’s
next?”
I shake my head. Suddenly I don’t know if I can talk. I check out
the peeling wallpaper and squash a particularly large dust ball with my
sock-covered toes.
“What do you want?” he persists.
“Rest, quiet, peace on earth, the end to all wars and pestilence.
By the way, what do you think pestilence is?” I say trying for a joke.
“Alright, it doesn’t look like we’re going to have a normal
conversation so I guess I will have to challenge you to a game of Scrabble.”
“Fine with me but, no looking up words. Smart as you are you know
I can whoop you with one eye closed.”
“Well I can whoop you with both eyes closed and one hand tied
behind my back.”
Lucas is my sweet blond-haired, blue-eyed youngest child. So tiny
at birth we didn’t know if he would survive. As clear as yesterday I
remember Dr. Korth taking Gordie and me aside. “This young man is a fighter. He
doesn’t know that he is the littlest guy in the nursery, so don’t tell him.
We’re going to pull him through.” Eighteen days later he hit the five pound
mark and we brought him home. And he hasn’t stopped eating. By the sheer volume
of food he puts away every day he should weigh 300 pounds. Instead, he tops the
scale at 165 pounds of muscle on a six foot one inch frame.
I bring myself back to the present. I look at the score and he is
ahead twenty points. He has a doughnut in one hand, is watching Wheel of
Fortune, and scanning the newspaper.
The phone rings, I check caller I.D. It is my mother-in-law,
Delia. She’s called three times today already. I understand she needs someone
to talk to but I can’t talk to her again today.
I let it go to voice mail. I’ll
deal with her later.
Lucas raises one eyebrow; I point to the board, and say, “It’s
your turn.”
I beat him by three points. I have to pull out the big guns,
quire, ibex. I’m pretty sure he let me win.
Lucas routinely drifts in and out of the house. He has a steady
girlfriend, Cora. Cora is a very beautiful woman with perfect skin,
honey-colored hair, a size two maybe. I think she is a bit of a lightweight but
they seem to get along.
Lucas has a BA in chemistry, is studying to be an EMT and he’s
applied to medical school. He is a dichotomy; a handsome, loveable, driven man
who hasn’t quite figured out where he fits.
“Mom, I have something to tell you.” He wiggles exuberantly in his
chair, like he did when he was a toddler with something important to impart.
He sounds serious. “O.K.”, I say.
“I was accepted to medical school at Creighton.”
I smile. “Oh, Lucas that’s wonderful!” I hug him hard.
“I’m packing. I want to get settled. I can finish my EMT
certification there and be ready for school by fall. Cora is going with me.”
I’m silent. My baby had decided to leave the nest. I take a deep
breath. “You will be a wonderful physician, Lucas.” Then I add,” I’ll miss
you.”
“And, I will miss you,” he says but his eyes are shining with
anticipation of his anything-is-possible future. “I feel bad leaving you now.”
“We can play Words with Friends over the internet. And, I’ll Skype
you.” He squeezes me hard like he did when he was a little boy.
“Go, be free,” I say as I shoo him out the door. “I’m sure Cora is
waiting for you. You’ve got lots of plans to make and packing to do. Just call
me before you leave.”
Lucas leaves a void. He is Lassie’s favorite—always willing to
toss the ball or run around the yard. Lassie lies down facing the door eyes
expressing hope that Lucas will return momentarily. I give her a treat which
she eats gratefully but she doesn’t move away.
I straighten the pictures and knickknacks, fluffing up the pillows
on the sofa. It has been so long since I’ve had time to be domestic: dust,
rearrange furniture, put up new curtains. The house feels neglected, and it has
been. But I’m determined to change that; just not today; as soon as I’ve had my
fill of sleep. I figure twenty-four undisturbed hours will do it.
There is a knock and Lila shuffles in with all three kids. Sandy
shrieks, “Grandma,” and attacks my legs. Then she climbs up my body like a jungle
gym. We’ve done this rough housing since she was little, but now, at forty-two
pounds, I’m having a hard time holding her.
“You’re getting too big to climb on Grandma like that,” Lila
admonished Sandy.
Sandy snuggles up to me and says, “I’m not too big, am I,
Grandma?”
I hold her close. “You will never be too big to snuggle,” I offer.
She smells like baby shampoo and sunshine as she crushes her sinewy little body
to mine.
“Let’s play cribbage, Gram, I’ve been practicing.”
“Lila, do you want to play?”
“No, thanks, I’ll feed Jesse and get out some games for Ashley.”
She looks through the refrigerator. “It’s nice of people to keep bring you
food, Mom. It doesn’t look like you have eaten much since the last time I was
here.”
I shrug. “I think they are just glad that it didn’t happen to
them.”
Lila gives me a hard look.
“Sorry, sweetie, this is just not my best day.”
Sandy and I play a rousing game of Cribbage which takes forever
because she is still learning the game and how to count. I admire her as we play—her
crazy blond hair pulled back in pony tail with a purple scrunchie, her enormous
blue eyes and her concentration. “I have the picture you drew for me and the
letter you wrote is on the refrigerator,” I tell her.
She is carefully counting
her cards so she doesn’t answer.
“Where’s Grandpa?” she asks unexpectedly.
“Honey, you remember...” I start but she interrupts, “I remember
he is gone. And not coming back,” she continues to count her cards. She only
has six points; I can see that from here.
“Sandy,” Lila calls a warning from the living room. “We talked
about this on the way over here. Have you forgotten?”
“No Momma, I was just making conver... convers... What was I
doing, Grandma?”
“Making conversation.”
“I’m making conversation with Grandma, Momma.”
“We’re O.K., Lila,” I call out.
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