After prayer and Bible reading, she checked her e-mail and Facebook author page. She wrote some quick replies to friends online and then went on to her blog. There she tapped out a character interview and posted it. Her readers really seemed to like those. Her fictional characters often took on a life of their own and their answers surprised even her sometimes.
After that, she decided to sit down and read a good book by one of her favorite authors. She did this for inspiration. One of her teachers back in college had said that great writers were great readers.
Violet loved the mysteries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes and the adventures of Tom Swift. However, her favorite fictional characters included Baroness Orczy’s Scarlet Pimpernel. These books were more adventure than mystery, but she loved the clever way the hero managed to rescue the innocent and save the day and keep his identity a secret from all the rich, aristocratic gossips in 17th century society.
Currently, she neared the middle of a lesser-known book by the baroness called ‘The Heart of a Woman.’ Through this one she found a new favorite, a mystery story in which the heroine must prove her love innocent of a hideous murder. So far, the hero neared despair, but his heroine refused to give up.
It relieved her the baroness hadn’t given too many details about the dead body. Though the murder appeared fairly clean, a skewer through the neck, it still came across as gruesome. These writers allowed the imagination to fill in the details. They appreciated the fact that sometimes leaving out details proved more effective than using them.
Finally, after lunch, she spent the rest of the afternoon working on her latest Colonel Brighton adventure story. She seriously considered having this be her last. As much as she loved writing period books, she really wanted to try to write a modern mystery/adventure story. She had an idea buzzing around in her head that refused to let go.
Quickly, she opened another window on her computer and tapped out her thoughts. So far, she had only a few vague ideas, but they were very compelling. What if a female author of detective stories found a dead body in a dumpster behind a restaurant? This idea intrigued her the most. She knew all about working in a diner. She wouldn’t need to research that. The actual murder (poison or weapon?) and ways today’s police detectives solved crimes she did need to research. The murderer mustn’t be obvious and she had to create several red herrings (clues that misled) and some good plausible suspects in order for her story to work.
As she leaned back and stretched, Violet decided to do some ‘real world’ research. There were only so many dumpsters in Butterfield. She decided to hit the ones closest to her house and work her way into the center of town.
The post office dumpster yielded nothing helpful at all. Absolutely boring, it contained no odors, no bugs, no nothing! It stood big and green and utterly useless. The one behind the bank revealed nothing better. Violet thought a dumpster was a dumpster, but none of these were what she needed for her scene. She sought a certain… ambiance and found it terribly frustrating that one did not make itself readily available.
At least she hadn’t seen too many people. The ones who had seen her looked at her strangely and shook their heads. She chuckled. Her research sure beat working in a diner!
The dumpster behind the grocery store faired a little better. At least it emanated a rather nasty smell.
Violet really didn’t want to check out the dumpster behind the diner. That was about the last place she wanted to go. She raised her chin and forced herself to face her fears—it was for the sake of research—and squaring her shoulders, she snuck behind the building. If she moved quickly, she should get something worth writing about, she hoped.
As she held the lid and tried to peer inside, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her.
“What are you doing here?” Ginger asked in her nasty-sweet voice.
Violet led the lid down with a bang. “I was just doing research for a book I’m writing.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose you’d better do something with your time.” Ginger lifted up her nose as she drew closer to the dumpster. “I hope it’s worth it. You smell nasty.”
Violet’s lips curved upward in a rueful half smile. She had gone to all this trouble and had nothing really to show for it. The scene that she wanted, the scene that would make her story come alive, it simply wasn’t here.
“He asked me to marry him,” Ginger continued as she flashed a large diamond. Violet wondered how she managed to lift her hand.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Really? The way you talked, it was as if you thought I wasn’t very good for him.”
Since that was almost exactly what she thought, Violet thought it best to avoid replying. Instead she said, “Well, I guess I’ll be going. Take care.” She waved her arm and tried not to walk away too quickly.
When Violet got home, she realized that her biggest problem was her setting. She considered going back at night. Perhaps that might make a difference, but in her heart of hearts, she knew that wouldn’t solve her problem. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get it to work in a small town. She had read several stories of murders taking place in villages and other smaller locales. Those worked quite well. Unfortunately for some unknown reason, she couldn’t get hers to really sing. She wondered if it would be better if the setting was in a bigger city. At least she wouldn’t have to really go to one in order to research it.
***
After a shower, the rest of the afternoon sped by until finally, her aunt walked through the front door carrying the mail. When she saw Violet at the kitchen table busy at her laptop, she said, “Well, hello there! What a nice surprise.”
“Hello, Aunty.” Violet didn’t feel quite ready to tell the other woman her bad news, so she hedged a bit, going to the refrigerator and gathering things for dinner. Her aunt was rather tired and more than willing to sit and let Violet get their meal.
Violet glanced at her aunt sitting at the table, looking through the mail. She wondered when a good time to tell her would be. The older lady absently pushed her thick glasses up her nose. As she pulled some pans out of a large drawer, she took another peek at her aunt. Although she had wrinkles on her face, laugh lines, really, and her hair was altogether grey, she still exuded kindness and strength, mainly because of her absolute trust in the Lord. As she dwelt on that, Violet knew everything would somehow be okay.
As she opened her mouth to confess, her aunt said, “Oh my! I guess, this is a rather extraordinary letter. It concerns you too, Dear.”
Curious and bad news nearly forgotten, Violet asked, “What’s it about?”
“It seems my uncle, a man I haven’t seen or heard from in years, died suddenly, probably from a heart attack. He was probably in his nineties by now. His lawyer sent a letter.”
“That’s too bad. What does his lawyer want though?”
“Well, it seems we were named in his will. I got a check, very helpful by the way and you... My goodness! It really is quite extraordinary...”
“What? Aunt Mabel, are you all right?” Violet stood and got her aunt a glass of water. She was rather concerned. Her aunt had been looking a bit tired lately.
“I’m fine, Dear,” she said as she sat down. “It’s just such a surprise. Thank-you,” she said absently, sipping the water.
“What else is in the letter?” Violet tried to keep her voice from sounding as impatient as she felt.
“He’s given you his house and everything in it.” Now Violet sat down too. “Where is it?”
“It’s up North in one of the suburbs of Chicago.”
“Chicago?!”
“Yes, but it’s not the city proper. It’s one of the smaller suburbs just outside of Chicago. It’s called Rolling Hills. We’ll need a map to locate it.”
Violet typed in Google search on her computer, pulled up a map, and found where it sat in relation to Chicago. “It’s one of the Northwest suburbs,” then, “Goodness, it’s so
close to Chicago it may as well be part of it. There’s, like, no space between cities. Where one ends another one begins. Why bother with different names?”
“I’m sure plenty of space existed between cities at one time, but as Chicago grew and each of the suburbs grew, they all grew closer and closer together. Now, the suburbs are called ‘Chicagoland.’”
Violet thought about that. “Makes sense, I guess. But, what am I going to do with a house?”
“I suppose you could sell it and live off the interest. Or rent it. At least you have to go and check it out. According to this letter, you also now own everything in it.”
Violet trembled at the very thought of traveling to such a big city. “There is no way I am going all the way to Chicago all by myself. Uh-uh. I’ll just have to get some real estate agent to deal with it for me.”
As she spoke, her aunt shook her head. “I’m afraid the conditions of the will state that you have to go to the house yourself. Oh, here’s an interesting note,” she said reading down further, “this explains why he gave you his house. He was a fan of your stories. He thought his old house would provide you with ‘more ideas for your books.’ It seems he was rather proud of you.”
“That’s strange since he never contacted us. I had an uncle who liked my books but never bothered to say, ‘hello?’”
Aunt Mabel sighed. “He was a bit eccentric. Keep in mind, he was old and set in his ways. Perhaps this is just his way of reaching out to you now.”
“Well, I am grateful, but I don’t want to go to Chicago— land or otherwise—to see his house!”
“Sorry, Kiddo, but if you want it, you have to go.”
“I don’t suppose you could come with me?”
“As nice as that would be, I really can’t leave work right now,” her aunt apologized. “We’re being audited and I have to help all I can.”
“Are you sure I have to go? Why? What happens if I refuse?”
“I suppose you forfeit the inheritance.”
Violet really didn’t like the idea of driving all the way to Rolling Hills, IL. According to MapQuest, it was going to be about a six hour drive. Plus, just looking at all of those roads converging together near Chicago made her head swim. She was sure she would have serious problems navigating that. “I’ll just have to consider all my options. By the way, how much did you get?”
“I got a nice, healthy little check that will pay some outstanding bills. Of course, it won’t last long.” Her aunt got up to explore the fridge to see what they could eat for dinner. “How was work today, Dear? I thought you would have to work late again tonight.”
Violet swallowed. She had momentarily forgotten about losing her job. “Aunt Mabel, I was laid off yesterday.”
“Well,” she said philosophically, “at least you won’t have to take time off to go see your house.”
“I still haven’t decided whether I really want it!” Violet protested
“I’m afraid our finances may not give you much choice.” As Violet opened her mouth to argue, Aunt Mabel added, “Pray about it, Sweetheart. We can talk more tomorrow after you’ve had time to pray first. God’s way is always the best way.”
Violet shut her mouth and nodded her head in agreement with her aunt. Sometimes, she didn’t like the way the Lord led. He wanted her to do some hard things sometimes. She certainly hadn’t wanted to take a job at the diner, but she had to acknowledge that that helped her more than anything else to face her fear of crowds and to overcome.
She had spent many years dealing with various phobias, but through prayer and many hours of counsel, she had finally gained the freedom to have a normal life. For that she would be forever grateful.
After dinner, the two women spent the rest of the evening reading, Violet reading an ebook on her laptop and Aunt Mabel, not as tech savvy as her niece, reading a paperback. Violet finished that book, A Woman’s Heart by Baroness Orczy. The ending was quite satisfying, but Violet understood the fears each of the principle characters had. Though she had never faced the horror of having someone she loved being unjustly accused of a heinous crime, she did understand loss. She knew what it was like to want to take the other’s place, to love so much that you would be willing to do anything to save the other.
As she got ready for bed that night, her thoughts were still rebellious toward the idea of going up to Chicago. Frankly, she didn’t want to pray about it because she suspected she already knew what the Lord wanted her to do. She had a very restless night.
Chapter 4
The next morning, she still really didn’t like the idea of driving alone to a huge city merely to check out some crazy uncle’s house. Her own personal feelings remained unchanged. However, as she knelt beside her bed, almost unconsciously by force of habit, she reigned in her will and purposefully listened to what the Lord said. Though she endured many terrible times in her past, Jesus always remained with her, patiently listening as she poured out her heart, always loving, always willing to lead and guide. His ways weren’t easy or even all together ‘safe,’ but they were always good. Though Violet might not want to do things the Lord’s way, His ways were always right, mainly because He saw more than she did, and He loved her beyond understanding.
As she quieted her mind and opened her heart to the Lord, she admitted His timing interested her. Might this house be His way of providing for her? Perhaps the Lord planned to use its sale to give her the funds to see her dream of writing full time come true!
Violet wore a thoughtful expression as she entered the kitchen and grabbed a bowl and a box of cereal off the shelf. Aunt Mabel already sat at the table with a plate of eggs and the newspaper. It was Saturday, and she enjoyed the day off.
“Violet,…” Aunt Mabel looked up at her niece and a world of love shone in her eyes. “This house might be God’s way of providing for you.”
Violet shook her head and pulled a wry grin. Of course the Lord confirmed what she’d perceived in her prayers this morning. On the other hand, she groaned at the thought of driving six hours—or more if she got lost—to such a huge city.
“You’re right, the Lord told me the same thing in prayer this morning. Why would He want me to go so far from home though? Why such a huge city? Why do I actually have to go there? It would be so much easier to get a real estate agent and some kind of auctioneer and do it all from here.”
“The Lord has more for you than the sale of this house or even your dream of being able to support yourself as a writer.” Aunt Mabel looked into her niece’s honey-brown eyes, so like her mother’s. Sometimes, Aunt Mabel saw her sister instead of her niece, so alike the two were. It made her miss her sister a little less. She also knew it was something of a comfort to the girl that she looked like her mother.
“Aunty, I’m not sure I’m ready for the adventure the Lord has for me. I like my nice, safe adventures here at home, in my head and on my computer. All of my stories have good endings.”
“Not quite, Dear. You still haven’t let Colonel Brighton find true love and you’ve either killed off or run off all of his possibilities.”
“The idea is that people will want to read another book in the series. Some series drag out this sort of thing for years and years.”
“In your case, there might be a little more to it.” Her aunt’s shrewdness made her squirm.
After a few moments, she decided to rescue her niece and changed the subject, “So when do you think you’ll leave?”
That didn’t help. The girl appeared more uncomfortable still. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she admitted.
“Well, how about we go to church tomorrow and you leave sometime next week? That will give you a chance to talk to the pastor and say goodbye to all the folks there.”
“I guess that’s a pretty good idea.” Overwhelmed, Violet wondered what she should pack. How long would it take to sell the place? Would she have enough in savings to last?
The next couple of days went b
y in a blur. Pastor Richards was sad to see her go, but he echoed her aunt’s words, further confirming what the Lord impressed upon her earlier. It all seemed a bit unreal, maybe even a little crazy. If Violet thought about it too much, she would start to hyperventilate. So, instead, she focused on taking one step at a time. Any moments when she became overwhelmed or stressed, she stopped, quieted her heart, and prayed. In that way, she was able to regain a sweet peace about this whole crazy adventure.
Violet and her aunt decided she’d leave on the following Saturday. This gave her plenty of time to pack and do all the other necessary things required for a long trip. She found a branch of her bank near the area of her uncle’s old house. (She still found it difficult to consider it her own.) At least she would be able to withdraw cash without having to pay fees at an ATM. She printed out maps to various stores she needed—to and from. She did a change of address on-line. It proved easier to change her address temporarily and then change it back whenever the house sold. The choice of forwarding mail seemed ridiculously expensive. She also contacted a real estate agent in the area near her uncle’s home.
The discussion with the real estate agent was an especially overwhelming few moments. The woman said that houses in that particular area took an average of about three months to sell. “It might sell faster, but don’t get your hopes up,” the woman had said. This did not make Violet happy. Three months?! It was already halfway through the fall. It would be a whole different season by the time the house sold. Also, the agent told her that her window of opportunity was closing fast. Houses moved hardly at all during the winter months. At least the agent had been up front with her. Violet respected that. She simply didn’t want to stay in Chicagoland for three entire months. However, Violet brightened considerably when the agent said that the easiest thing to do would be for her to go through her uncle’s things first, then hire an auctioneer. Vacant and ‘move in ready’ houses sold better. It all depended on how long Violet took to go through her uncle’s things.
Unfortunately, that made packing even harder. How did one pack for an indeterminate time? How long should she plan on being there? How long had her uncle wanted her to stay? Her aunt went back to the letter from the lawyer, but all it said was that her uncle had specified that Violet had to come in person in order to claim her inheritance. Violet fumed a bit. It seemed he was a bit dictatorial, but there was no use in arguing. At least he had also given her a bit of money for expenses.