 by Lauren Landish.jpg)
Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Full blurb to come.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
JANEY
“Alright, that’s it for me, Mrs. Michaelson,” I tell the woman lying peacefully in the bed as I tuck the blankets around her frail body. She’s been a resident here for years, and her children rarely come anymore. They’re all too busy with their own lives and have already grieved the loss of their once-vibrant matriarch. But though they’ve moved on, she’s still here, and it’s my job as her nurse to make sure she’s well-cared for, something I take seriously.
I pause as though she’s going to respond and then answer accordingly in a bright, happy voice. “Of course, I’ll be careful and have fun. And if I survive the time with my family, I’ll tell you all about the wedding when I get back. It’s going to be straight off a telenovela—drama, catfights, and fake tears, oh, my!” I throw an overexaggerated wink her way, comfortable being my weird self with my patients, mostly because they’re a captive audience who appreciate the conversation.
Or at least I like to think they do. They don’t share their opinions with me often.
Still, I imagine Mrs. Michaelson clucking her tongue fussily at the unflattering depiction of my family. I’m not sure that was her nature when she was herself, but in my imagination, she’s a very proper, ladylike, and slightly judgmental woman.
Glancing out the small window that gives the room some natural light, I sigh. The next week is bound to be the literal live-action remake of Dickens’s ‘the best of times . . . the worst of times.’ Guaranteed.
First, I have days of peace in a cabin well outside the city with my boyfriend, Henry, where our plans are to read, relax, take a few nature walks, and soak in the hot tub. It’ll be our first big vacation together, and I’m both excited and nervous, especially since now he’s stuck at work for a few more days and is meeting me there . . .
“You seriously have to work? We scheduled this months ago.”
“Sorry, babe. Duty calls. You know they can’t do it without me, and the deadline’s coming up quick.” He sounds distracted, like he’s reading a computer screen while he tells me that he can’t go with me for the entire time.
“How about I wait for you?” I suggest hopefully. “That way, we can still go together and enjoy the obscene amounts of junk food and off-key singalongs of the road trip.” It’s a good idea even if it’ll waste a few nights of our reservation. But I don’t care. I want Henry.
Henry, though, apparently feels differently. “Pass on that. You know you can’t sing.”
I never claimed to be a red-headed Kelly Clarkson, but it sounds worse when he says I can’t sing. I agree anyway because my lack of pitch is not the issue. The demise of our couple-cation is. “Hence, why I said off-key.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, good one. Listen, I’ve gotta go. The guys are looking to me to crack the whip. But you should go ahead without me. You need the peace and quiet. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, ‘kay?”
It sounds like I don’t have a choice, and I don’t want to start our time off with an argument, so I force a smile into my voice. “Okay. I’ve never vacationed alone, and I’m not entirely sure I’ll know what to do with myself, but I guess I’ll figure it out. When do you think—”
“Good girl. I’ll be in touch. Bye, babe.”
The line goes dead.
Yeah, so that’s the best of times part.
And then, after the forced solitary relaxation and a happy reunion with Henry, the worst of times kicks in.
My cousin Paisley’s nuptials, which are next weekend, have been destined to be my own personal hell since we were children. In a family that wanted to spend loads of time together, watching the kids play while the adults sipped hard lemonades and gossiped about everyone, Paisley has always been my built-in, ever-present bully.
Of course, no adults ever saw her tormenting me. They would turn the other cheek as she’d knock down my building blocks, clap as she cast me as the monster in family skits, and laugh when she called me ‘Plainy Janey’, a blunt commentary on my late-to-arrive and none-too-friendly experience with puberty. Because of course, she grew up well and is everything I’m not.
Paisley is tall and lithe, built like a fairytale princess. I’m short and curvy. Her hair is naturally caramel-blonde-brown and falls in a sheet down her back. Mine is bright red-orange, and the curls stand out from my head like I stuck a finger in a live light socket. She’s got the perfect dentist office ad smile, while my smile is too wide and shows off the chipped tooth I was too chicken shit to get fixed because I didn’t want to tell the dentist that I got it walking into a door while gawking at a cute guy.