“You must be Lucille Hare.”
“Horrid name, isn’t it.” Lucille sat down, at last noticing the overturned vase. She blotted it with the napkin she still held in her hands. “I just want to say how much I love your names. They’re so … perfect.” She put the damp napkin on the fourth, unused place setting. “Imagine, if you can, growing up in a small town with a daddy whose name is Happy Hare.” She grinned. “Daddy wanted to call me March, but thank goodness Mama wouldn’t let him. I mean it’s funny the first time you hear it, but can you imagine? Daddy pointed out to her that the name would have had two murmur diphthongs. Murmur diphthongs bring fame and fortune. If Mama hadn’t forced Daddy to name me Lucille, which doesn’t have a bit of a diphthong or romance in it, I probably would have been published by now. In case I ever get published, I’m going to change my name to—” She stopped, stricken by the glare Mona was shooting at her.
“To what?” Coco asked. “What are you going to change your name to? You know it’s a simple process to go down to the courthouse and legally change—” She sat up straight as Mona kicked her under the table.
Lucille tried to smile, but she lost her nerve. Mona d’la Quirt unsettled her. The woman was such a force, and maybe just a little bit mean.
“You said you have access to a place where WOMB can meet?” Mona kept her voice level. Maybe the Hare woman didn’t really have a place. Maybe this was just one of those terrible computer episodes where one party lied grievously to another. Maybe, in two minutes she could get up and leave.
Lucille nodded. The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t really asked Bo if they could meet in his shop. The shop had been Driskell’s idea. But Bo was always harping at her to develop a social life. Being a member of a critique group would be a good start. “I, uh, there is a space available.”
“We can meet on a regular basis? Weekly?” Mona pressed.
Lucille looked at Coco. “Don’t you want to see some of my writing?” She reached under her chair and brought out two slender manila envelopes. “I brought the first chapter of my new book,
Forbidden Words.
It’s a western with the most unusual hero.” If they would just look at her book, they’d have to let her in. They’d recognize her talent and ask her to join even if Bo wouldn’t let them use the shop.
Forbidden Words?
Coco’s thin forehead puckered in a tiny ripple of wrinkles. “That’s unusual for a romance. I mean does the hero, like, talk dirty?”
Mona’s eyebrows lifted.
“No,” Lucille waved her hand in front of her face. “No, no, no. Nothing like that! He’s the hero. He doesn’t have to talk dirty. He’s a poet. A cowboy-slash-poet. That’s what makes him so unique. He’s a man of action
and
a man of words. And his words are so beautiful. Sometimes in my head I can hear him just talking away. His voice makes me want to lie down and die.”
“I can’t wait.” Mona took the envelope that Lucille held extended toward her.
“When will you read it?” Lucille asked. “I’m desperate to see what you think. I’ve been trying to find a critique group ever since I read an article in
Writer’s Digest
about the importance of finding a really good group.”
“Can we see the place where we can meet?”
Lucille looked from one to the other. “Sure. When would you like to go?”
“Right now.” Mona caught a scent of evasiveness in Lucille’s behavior.
“Well, it’s my brother’s television shop, and he’s open for business right now.” She didn’t want to go up there and ask Bo in front of Mona and Coco. Bo might not be cooperative, in the beginning. She felt perspiration beading on her upper lip.
“Good, then hell be there and give us a decision.” Mona felt Lucille trying to ooze her way out of a clean-cut answer.
“Maybe it would be better if we met him
after
work.” Lucille’s heart was racing. They
“Horrid name, isn’t it.” Lucille sat down, at last noticing the overturned vase. She blotted it with the napkin she still held in her hands. “I just want to say how much I love your names. They’re so … perfect.” She put the damp napkin on the fourth, unused place setting. “Imagine, if you can, growing up in a small town with a daddy whose name is Happy Hare.” She grinned. “Daddy wanted to call me March, but thank goodness Mama wouldn’t let him. I mean it’s funny the first time you hear it, but can you imagine? Daddy pointed out to her that the name would have had two murmur diphthongs. Murmur diphthongs bring fame and fortune. If Mama hadn’t forced Daddy to name me Lucille, which doesn’t have a bit of a diphthong or romance in it, I probably would have been published by now. In case I ever get published, I’m going to change my name to—” She stopped, stricken by the glare Mona was shooting at her.
“To what?” Coco asked. “What are you going to change your name to? You know it’s a simple process to go down to the courthouse and legally change—” She sat up straight as Mona kicked her under the table.
Lucille tried to smile, but she lost her nerve. Mona d’la Quirt unsettled her. The woman was such a force, and maybe just a little bit mean.
“You said you have access to a place where WOMB can meet?” Mona kept her voice level. Maybe the Hare woman didn’t really have a place. Maybe this was just one of those terrible computer episodes where one party lied grievously to another. Maybe, in two minutes she could get up and leave.
Lucille nodded. The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t really asked Bo if they could meet in his shop. The shop had been Driskell’s idea. But Bo was always harping at her to develop a social life. Being a member of a critique group would be a good start. “I, uh, there is a space available.”
“We can meet on a regular basis? Weekly?” Mona pressed.
Lucille looked at Coco. “Don’t you want to see some of my writing?” She reached under her chair and brought out two slender manila envelopes. “I brought the first chapter of my new book,
Forbidden Words.
It’s a western with the most unusual hero.” If they would just look at her book, they’d have to let her in. They’d recognize her talent and ask her to join even if Bo wouldn’t let them use the shop.
Forbidden Words?
Coco’s thin forehead puckered in a tiny ripple of wrinkles. “That’s unusual for a romance. I mean does the hero, like, talk dirty?”
Mona’s eyebrows lifted.
“No,” Lucille waved her hand in front of her face. “No, no, no. Nothing like that! He’s the hero. He doesn’t have to talk dirty. He’s a poet. A cowboy-slash-poet. That’s what makes him so unique. He’s a man of action
and
a man of words. And his words are so beautiful. Sometimes in my head I can hear him just talking away. His voice makes me want to lie down and die.”
“I can’t wait.” Mona took the envelope that Lucille held extended toward her.
“When will you read it?” Lucille asked. “I’m desperate to see what you think. I’ve been trying to find a critique group ever since I read an article in
Writer’s Digest
about the importance of finding a really good group.”
“Can we see the place where we can meet?”
Lucille looked from one to the other. “Sure. When would you like to go?”
“Right now.” Mona caught a scent of evasiveness in Lucille’s behavior.
“Well, it’s my brother’s television shop, and he’s open for business right now.” She didn’t want to go up there and ask Bo in front of Mona and Coco. Bo might not be cooperative, in the beginning. She felt perspiration beading on her upper lip.
“Good, then hell be there and give us a decision.” Mona felt Lucille trying to ooze her way out of a clean-cut answer.
“Maybe it would be better if we met him
after
work.” Lucille’s heart was racing. They
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