I Wrote a Book!

A Valentine Christmas is out!

I’m almost too excited to talk about it, but it’s in the world! It’s a scary thing, a first novella, out there after it’s spent so much time held and protected here but I’m hoping it finds a few friends. I’ve spent most of the year working on it and years daydreaming about it so welcome to the family!

Here’s the stupendously long URL:

https://www.amazon.com/Valentine-Christmas-Annabelle-mystery-ebook/dp/B09K5XYXC2/ref=sr_1_5?dchild=1&keywords=A+Valentine+Christmas&qid=1635194576&qsid=146-0566163-0741736&sr=8-5&sres=B019E160DG%2C1791740235%2CB00104K2Y4%2CB07GRJM3HV%2CB09K5XYXC2%2CB09JKTCP8T%2CB09HL2Z5GC%2CB07J34K4C8%2CB089MC1X71%2CB093MXHCG5%2CB09G1YZZY3%2CB01M2WL79W%2CB09D972MDT%2CB09JVM31PP%2CB09755QNN3%2C0310734894&srpt=DOWNLOADABLE_MOVIE

And because I can, here’s how it starts! (Forgive the weird formatting here… that’s substack, not me.)

One: Thursday, December 24th , 7:00 pm

“I was right,” Erasmus said after he took another deep breath in, “and you were wrong.”

Annabelle Valentine looked back into her oldest friend’s merry, whiskey-colored eyes, light against his dark skin. He was her height exactly and they also shared the same birthday. He was a successful pediatrician, built, dapper, his beard trimmed and his bald head perfectly smooth, as always. He was somehow making a bright orange Whataburger sweater covered in snowflakes work for him. Valentine considered her own faded jeans and only concession to the season, a bright green long sleeve t-shirt. He had always out-dressed her because she just couldn’t seem to care - Aurore had picked out the shirt. Actually, she bought it too, thought Valentine.

“I admit it,” she said, “the live tree was the way to go. The sweater though…” He just took another deep breath of pine-scented air before he sauntered away.     

They were in the large foyer of the home they shared with Parker, Aurore and her baby, Dan. Valentine had split the enormous house she inherited into four self-sufficient apartments: the two men were in the upstairs apartments, she and Aurore in the downstairs, though Parker was to be found most nights at Valentine’s. They had partnered up in the private investigations business she owned and soon thereafter partnered up in a personal sense as well. Aurore was their office manager and the only reason any organizational work got done. For some it would be too much, house-mates, friends and lovers as well as co-workers, but for them it worked. Besides, Dan was raised almost as much by Valentine, Parker, and Erasmus as by Aurore.

“We’ve become a commune,” Valentine had said to Parker recently. He had replied, “At least we’re a family and not a cult. Nobody here is that charismatic.” As usual, before she could get anxious about What It All Meant, he had managed to make her laugh.

It was Christmas Eve 2020 on Cloverleaf Lane in San Antonio and the pandemic pod members were decorating the perfect tree Erasmus had brought home. The doctor took Dan from Aurore as she went back to her apartment and danced the boy around as he sang along, pretty well, to Bing Crosby, Michael Bublé, and even Eartha Kitt. Parker was up on a ladder hanging ornaments Valentine handed up. He caught her checking out his butt, grinned suggestively at her, and she winked back. His wavy dark hair fell a bit in his eyes as he looked down and shot that killer smile at her. He was a jeans and t-shirt person, like her, and he was wearing a fleece cardigan over a Christmasy Calvin and Hobbes shirt. Like Erasmus’s ability to make his tacky Christmas sweater classy, Parker managed to make his t-shirt sexy. How is he never less than heart-stopping, she wondered, for the thousandth time.

He was thinking almost exactly the same thing. That wink of a bright green eye had made his breath catch. Her long, curling dark red hair was in a careless bun high enough to give him a good view of her long neck. How will I ever get enough of her? Of that smile whenever she catches me looking? He realized he had been staring for several seconds, frozen with a glitter-covered pickle ornament hanging in mid-air from his finger. She had already turned back to the box for the next decoration and he hastily hung the one he had, but not quite soon enough. Erasmus was smirking at him. Dammit, he shrugged. Caught again.

All the while, Dashiell watched from the open doorway of Valentine’s apartment and wagged his tiny brown tail almost in time to the music. He was Valentine’s terrier, ten pounds of silky, black and tan, unconditional love. Like the baby, he was a member of the household as a whole but he was definitely Valentine’s valiant little boy.

As Parker put the star on top, Aurore entered from her apartment with a tray of cookies and eggnog. Valentine approached her suspiciously, “Are these the real thing?”

            Aurore sighed in mock exasperation and said, “The ones with cinnamon sticks are spiked.”

            Valentine took a sip and sighed deeply, “Goslings. You know the way to my heart.”

            Taking a cookie and biting in, Parker said around crumbs, “You had time to ice cookies?”

            Aurore was, as always, perfectly turned out. She wore long red loose pants with tiny candy canes on them and a matching red tunic-like top. She had cut her light blonde hair into a cute pixie before Dan’s birth and it set off her sky blue eyes. As usual she smelled like soap and chamomile and somehow of sunshine, mixed today with cinnamon. She was one of those people it was relaxing just to be in the same room as - Parker privately thought of her as living Xanax to Valentine’s wired energy. Aurore replied easily, “My little man there is a wonderful napper.”

            Erasmus added, between sips of his own cinnamon-sprinkled, rum-spiked eggnog, “We did enjoy a good one yesterday afternoon.”

            “You’ve napped with Dan?” Valentine asked, surprised.

“Have you tried it?” he replied. “All warm and baby breath? Put you right out.”

            Valentine was a little aghast. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll roll over on him?”
            “I sleep with him, Annabelle,” Aurore added.

            “I know but you’ve got those mommy spidey senses.”

            “I’m a kid doctor, Valentine, I’m not going to hurt him,” Erasmus sipped again, “Do you ever roll over on Dashiell?”

            Valentine muttered doubtfully while clinking glasses with Parker who knew to stay well out of Valentine’s baby arguments – she still hadn’t entirely recovered from the birth she’d been coerced to witness. Dashiell came trotting out when he heard his name and Parker picked him up. The pup leaned over to lick Valentine’s cheek and she had to admit, just to herself, Erasmus had a point. She loved napping with Dashiell.

            They all munched and sipped as they surveyed the tree.

            Aurore said quietly, “That really puts me in the spirit. Warm and bright.”

There was that note of sadness that sometimes crept into her voice. Valentine tensed whenever she heard it because she knew Aurore was thinking of Dan’s father, Valentine’s deceased partner, Mike Dandy. It had only been a little over a year since he’d died and both women still missed him, in different ways, just as they had loved him in different ways. To Aurore, he was a man she’d been in love with and probably always would be, at least a little. To Valentine, he was the brother she’d never had and she still felt deeply responsible for his death though she really wasn’t, even a little.

Aurore gently stroked Dan’s hair as Erasmus swayed to Silent Night. The baby was comfortable and quietly observing, as he often was, and kept his attention on his mother, mirroring her small smile. Parker put an arm around Valentine’s waist and while she didn’t quite rest her head on him she did lean in, getting an ear lick from Dashiell. It’s a perfect Christmas moment of peace and contentment, Valentine thought.

Then she laughed as into their quiet night came a pounding on the thick wooden front door behind them and everyone jumped. “Hey family!” they heard from the other side. “Happy fucking Christmas, the Vargas are here!” Valentine opened the door to a bear hug from Vern, her mentor and husband of Rosita, who was standing next to him beaming at her.

Vern was still a big man in his late sixties. He was eye-to-eye with Parker but built more like an aging football player to Parker’s soccer-player physique. He was wearing what he always wore: an old snap button cowboy-cut shirt, stiff blue jeans, and ropers. Under her long black sweater, Rosita wore an outfit almost the match of Aurore’s, only in a deep burgundy color with tiny reindeer on the pants. They’ve been shopping together again, Valentine thought, grateful they hadn’t bought her one of the ensembles. That I know of yet. She eyed the packages under the tree and shivered at a vision of a green outfit with little elves on it. Which, it turned out, she got almost right. The pants sported gingerbread men.

Erasmus pulled Vern from Valentine. “Get in here, old man. Let your lovely wife in out of the cold!” Dan was quickly grabbed up by Vern with a, “Here’s my boyo!” and the baby giggled as Vern tickled him and made faces at him. Rosita handed a casserole dish to Aurore and called, “Who’ll help with the load-in?”

Parker, Erasmus, and Vern followed her out, Vern giving Dan to Valentine. She looked deep in his chocolatey brown eyes, so like Mike’s, and didn’t even realize how comfortable she had become holding a baby. It had been alien and terrifying the first time, immediately after his birth. “Merry Christmas, Dan,” she whispered to him now, and he smiled Mike’s smile at her. Sometimes it made her sad, to be reminded, but tonight it was nothing short of miraculous that a bit of Mike was with them too.

The volunteers returned laden with food and beautifully wrapped gifts, clearly Rosita’s work. Rosita, Vern, and Parker made a few trips between car and kitchen as Erasmus placed the packages under the tree.

Finally Rosita had a moment. She hugged Valentine and Dan and then held Valentine’s face in her hands, kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas, my Anna!” Not many people were allowed to call her Annabelle, and only Rosita, and occasionally Vern, got to use that nickname. Erasmus still remembered how angry Valentine had gotten when he tried to call her that back in grade school, but Rosita was Valentine’s mother in all but name, having raised her since she was orphaned at almost three. “Merry Christmas to you too, Rosa.” They embraced again, the familiar quiet comfort flowing into Valentine.

They joined the main party in the foyer and Vern reclaimed Dan as Aurore handed Rosita an eggnog. After a sip she said, “Goslings.” Valentine grinned at her and they watched the men play with Dan. “I can’t believe he’s six months already,” Rosita said.

            Aurore exclaimed, “Did Annabelle tell you? He’s crawling more and can stand if he holds on!”

            “I knew he would be strong,” Rosita said sagely.

            “He’s getting much more mobile,” Valentine said. “All that practice not stepping on Dashiell is going to come in handy.”

            Valentine watched Vern and Parker once again size each another up. As the newest member of the family, and Valentine’s significant other, Parker had yet to entirely pass Vern’s muster. She knew Vern well enough to know what he really distrusted in Parker was how handsome he was. Vern did not hold with pretty boys and Parker was smart enough not to try any of his considerable charm on the man. Those bright cobalt eyes and the grin that made Valentine melt, in as hard-boiled a manner as she could manage, would have an adverse effect on Vern.

Nodding in their direction she said, “What Aurore really means is he can crawl. Obviously, he rarely gets the opportunity.”

Rosita claimed Dan from her husband then, unable to resist the baby any longer. “Hola mijo,” she cooed at him. As much as he loved Vern’s whiskers and big grins, Dan folded into Rosita, as children always did. He tucked his little head under her chin and buried his chubby fingers in her black and silver hair. Valentine remembered doing the same when she was just a few years older than him before the silver had appeared.

Vern watched his wife and the little boy. They’d decided not to have children, partially because they had Anna. The family grew to include Erasmus, Aurore and Dan, and now – maybe – Parker. Vern shook off the reverie and clapped Parker on the back a little harder than necessary. “Who’s for grub?”

They all adjourned to the large kitchen that ran along most of the back of the house, made their plates, and gathered at their usual places at the heavy oval table for spicy rice, charro beans, green chile chicken enchiladas, pulled-pork tamales, white queso, tortillas, and formula, which Dan had only very recently transitioned to. They had a variety of salsas and guacamole, and multiple beers to go along with the small feast: Negra Modelo, Shiner, and Dos Equis. Rosita had taught Vern quite a bit about cooking Mexican dishes, which he never picked up from his own estranged family, but he was unsurpassed at baking. He brought out his famous Christmas Black Forest cake and even Dan licked some icing off Aurore’s finger and had half a cherry.

            As they were all clearing the table, putting left-overs away, and washing the dishes, Vern leaned over to Valentine and said, “I need to talk to you.”

            “Business or personal?”

            “Business.”

            “All of us?”

            “Well, you and the boy there. We’ll let Aurore and the baby rest.”

            “Name’s Parker, Vern.”

            “I know his name. I’ll meet you at your place when we’re settled.”

            “Ok.”

            Valentine didn’t know what Vern had gotten wind of, but she was having her best holiday ever and a little riddle would top it off nicely. Of course, it was more than a little riddle.

Of course it was, she thought later.