RHODA

  “I love it, Cora! Best ending ever!” I crooned into my video.

  My hands kept working, folding a stack of towels. That was mom life. Two things at once.

  “I stuck the landing?” she asked.

  “Nailed it! The only thing the last chapter of Moons Dancing needs is a little more description. I want to feel Florida when Sal is walking in the moonlight by herself. Put me on that beach with her. The sound of crashing waves. The sand between her toes. What scents are on the breeze when it lifts her hair?”

  “Hot damn, Rhoda, now I gotta go write. You’re making me miss Miami!” she chuckled.

  “You’re not the only one!” I laughed. “This cold snap took me by surprise, and we’re in for it now, I hear. You ready for a killer thunderstorm?”

  Cora rolled her eyes, “There is no reality where I say ‘yes’ to that question. Thanks a million Rhoda. You’re the best beta reader. I’ll send you the revised beach scene in a few!”

  “Can’t wait!” I told her and clicked off the screen.

  Then I marked two items off my fridge to-do list: laundry and Moons Dancing final chapter review.

  Up next? Listening to HC’s new book Patterns Of Love. He’d asked me to beta-read the second volume of his new series since Sam was no longer doing that job. She’d gotten promoted to Sibsil Creed, apprentice editor, so HC was stuck with me. And I loved it!

  I played chapter two and went to sort through the freezer to find dinner.

  Co-renting the townhouse with Marjorie was a godsend. She watched Filly while I did the shopping, and oftentimes she made dinner in doubles. Like the lasagna I set on the countertop to thaw. She’d made two at once and froze one for another day. Absolute angel!

  The doorbell buzzed. Excellent. Just what I was waiting for. I grabbed the package off the porch and shut the door on a cold gust of wind in a hurry.

  Tearing open the folio, I smiled at its contents. Wild and Wonderful stickers—hot off the press!

  Five-hundred jars of my new body butter needed labels, so it was time to get started. I affixed the first label as the audiobook of Patterns of Love told me all about Muriel and Harley’s morning lattes. Next jar . . .

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  My revised company was going really well. Families I met in play groups instantly connected me to businesses that sold local hand-made items, and several shops wanted my skin-care products. Finding out I used a local mushroom from a foraging trip sparked even more interest.

  The foraging group was amazing, and now I had loads of new friends who knew tons about the fauna of Uno. It had been simple to infuse a mushroom serum and add it to my butters for the rejuvenating properties.

  Marjorie’s door opened, and I pressed pause on the audiobook as she wandered into the kitchen.

  “Oh! Your labels look perfect, Rhoda. I’ll help as soon as I get a cuppa. You need a refill? Sky looks like it’s about to break open any second,” Marjorie said pointing to the window.

  “I’d love another mug of tea, and I think you’re right about the weather. It’s a good night for staying in. How does freezer lasagna sound for dinner?”

  She nodded and brought two steaming mugs to the table. I added honey to mine then kept going with the labels, wanting to finish as many jars as possible before Filly woke up from his nap.

  “Did you decide about the offer?” Marjorie wondered.

  “I accepted it at dawn this morning,” I beamed. My townhouse in Cheyenne sold, and it was a relief to close that final door on my old life.

  “Glad to hear it. And the other decision?”

  I glanced at my pad but didn’t answer. I wanted to. I just. . .

  How would I know when I was ready?

  I loved romance. I could read every love story ever written and never get enough. But my own heart? How did I try again? And put my son through it if it didn’t work out? Could we survive another heartbreak?

  I bit my lip. The wind outside picked up, keening like a banshee.

  “No one is ever ready, Rhoda,” Marjorie whispered. “It’s like that minute you find out you’re pregnant. Even if it’s everything you wanted, your joy turns to terror at the thought of that life growing inside you needing you to be something you’ve never been before.”

  She was right, of course. That was exactly what it was like becoming a mom. Bringing Filly home from the hospital was scary as hell, but I rose to the occasion and figured out how to live a new life as a parent.

  I took a fortifying sip of tea and picked up my pad. It was past time I answered the message I got last night.

  Tyne: Want me to show you how to make Taste of The Sea Pie?

  Rhoda: Filly’s birthday party is this weekend. I could use a main course for dinner.

  Tyne: I’ll be there with ingredients a plenty.

  I grinned at Marjorie, “It’s a date!”

  The first peal of thunder shook the house, and the sound of feet and paws in the hallway above us had me running for the stairs. Filly was awake.

  “Mommy!”

  “I’m here, Fil. It’s alright,” I grabbed him in a hug, Georgia climbing onto my shoulder.

  “I heard them, Mommy! Our friends!”

  My son had gotten an extensive education from the Joon kids about listening to the wind and smelling scents that were special. I realized the aroma I’d encountered in the kitchen hadn’t been my tea. No, it was too complex for that. Acrid coffee, cinnamon, and . . . melons?

  Marjorie laughed, “I thought that was odd-sounding wind! It wasn’t the storm at all, was it Filly? Hmm. Who do we think it was?”

  “The Wind of Power and his dad!” Filly called gleefully, and I nodded. Euridyne could’ve definitely done something spectacular like shake the windows on a blustery day.

  Okay then. We had mystical friends riding a storm, bringing us tidings the very minute I agreed to a date with Tyne Joon.

  Everything was going to work out just fine.