Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 06 - Cozy Camping by Jeanne Glidewell Page A
Authors: Jeanne Glidewell
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rather distasteful, myself.”
“Exactly!” She responded, as she handed me back my change for her book, which she’d already signed. “Just between us, she treats Norma and me as if she’s Cinderella and we’re her ugly stepsisters. In her opinion, we are so far beneath her that it’s an injustice that we’re even allowed to participate in book-signing events with her. I’m pretty sure she’s appalled we’re even allowed to breathe the same air she does.”
“You should ignore her high and mighty attitude. You’ve both earned your own degree of success, and you deserve respect for it,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster.
Wendy had joined me at Norma and Sarah’s table and handed me a water bottle. After glancing at the titles of the two books in my hands, she looked at me quizzically. Before she could humiliate me by asking what on earth had prompted me to buy the books, I said, “I know you’re dying to read these books too, honey, but you’ll just have to wait until I’ve read them first.”
“Oh, darn!” She said, not bothering to pretend she had any interest in reading the two books.
“Where’s Veronica?” I cut in quickly, before Wendy began inquiring about why I had any desire to read a book on either topic.
Wendy pointed toward the crowd across the room, and said, “The only copies of Fanny’s book that are available are at her table, so Veronica’s standing in line to buy one and have it signed.”
I heard Sarah gasp, and I was too embarrassed to explain the situation, so I thanked them for signing my books and walked away with Wendy in tow. We each sipped our water while we sat on a couch in a reading nook of the bookstore. We chatted about everything from the recent recall of a popular brand of baby strollers, to how to treat an alpaca with stomach ulcers caused by an overproduction of gastric acids. We even discussed possible names for my imaginary grandchildren as we waited over an hour for Veronica to join us. I was chewing over Wendy’s name choice for a son, should she have one. I wasn’t sure I could ever get used to referring to my grandson as Major, no matter how popular Wendy insisted the name was. I didn’t want to feel as if I should salute my grandson every time our paths crossed. I was trying to visualize telling an ER physician that “Major” had a crayon stuck up his nose when Veronica walked toward us with the coveted book about her favorite singer clutched tightly in her arms.
That inherent nosy-Nelly trait reared its ugly head again as I looked at the likeness of an incredibly handsome man wearing a black cowboy hat and holding a well-worn guitar on the cover of Fame and Shame . I wasn’t surprised to see it was the same book the pretty redhead had been reading at the pool earlier that morning. It was apparently being snatched up by many readers.
I was ashamed of myself for suddenly wondering what kind of “sensational facts” were laid bare on the pages of the best-selling book. But I vowed never to read it—not even to satisfy my curiosity.
* * *
I can’t remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did when Stone, Wyatt, and Andy got off the shuttle bus dressed like actors in a John Wayne western. From their brand new ten-gallon hats and pointy-toed boots, to the oversized silver belt buckles on their braided leather belts, they looked like they’d just pilfered stuff from Ty Murray’s closet.
The most amusing part was that I could tell they all thought they looked pretty hot in their new cowboy regalia. At least Andy actually owned a cattle ranch, and the expensive purchases he made might come in handy for him. Stone’s new get-up, however, would collect dust and moths in the basement for the rest of its life after we returned to Rockdale, Missouri. I didn’t point this out, however. I had a multitude of “must have” shoes doing the exact same thing in my closet.
“I see you all spent a lot of time, not to mention money,
“Exactly!” She responded, as she handed me back my change for her book, which she’d already signed. “Just between us, she treats Norma and me as if she’s Cinderella and we’re her ugly stepsisters. In her opinion, we are so far beneath her that it’s an injustice that we’re even allowed to participate in book-signing events with her. I’m pretty sure she’s appalled we’re even allowed to breathe the same air she does.”
“You should ignore her high and mighty attitude. You’ve both earned your own degree of success, and you deserve respect for it,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster.
Wendy had joined me at Norma and Sarah’s table and handed me a water bottle. After glancing at the titles of the two books in my hands, she looked at me quizzically. Before she could humiliate me by asking what on earth had prompted me to buy the books, I said, “I know you’re dying to read these books too, honey, but you’ll just have to wait until I’ve read them first.”
“Oh, darn!” She said, not bothering to pretend she had any interest in reading the two books.
“Where’s Veronica?” I cut in quickly, before Wendy began inquiring about why I had any desire to read a book on either topic.
Wendy pointed toward the crowd across the room, and said, “The only copies of Fanny’s book that are available are at her table, so Veronica’s standing in line to buy one and have it signed.”
I heard Sarah gasp, and I was too embarrassed to explain the situation, so I thanked them for signing my books and walked away with Wendy in tow. We each sipped our water while we sat on a couch in a reading nook of the bookstore. We chatted about everything from the recent recall of a popular brand of baby strollers, to how to treat an alpaca with stomach ulcers caused by an overproduction of gastric acids. We even discussed possible names for my imaginary grandchildren as we waited over an hour for Veronica to join us. I was chewing over Wendy’s name choice for a son, should she have one. I wasn’t sure I could ever get used to referring to my grandson as Major, no matter how popular Wendy insisted the name was. I didn’t want to feel as if I should salute my grandson every time our paths crossed. I was trying to visualize telling an ER physician that “Major” had a crayon stuck up his nose when Veronica walked toward us with the coveted book about her favorite singer clutched tightly in her arms.
That inherent nosy-Nelly trait reared its ugly head again as I looked at the likeness of an incredibly handsome man wearing a black cowboy hat and holding a well-worn guitar on the cover of Fame and Shame . I wasn’t surprised to see it was the same book the pretty redhead had been reading at the pool earlier that morning. It was apparently being snatched up by many readers.
I was ashamed of myself for suddenly wondering what kind of “sensational facts” were laid bare on the pages of the best-selling book. But I vowed never to read it—not even to satisfy my curiosity.
* * *
I can’t remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did when Stone, Wyatt, and Andy got off the shuttle bus dressed like actors in a John Wayne western. From their brand new ten-gallon hats and pointy-toed boots, to the oversized silver belt buckles on their braided leather belts, they looked like they’d just pilfered stuff from Ty Murray’s closet.
The most amusing part was that I could tell they all thought they looked pretty hot in their new cowboy regalia. At least Andy actually owned a cattle ranch, and the expensive purchases he made might come in handy for him. Stone’s new get-up, however, would collect dust and moths in the basement for the rest of its life after we returned to Rockdale, Missouri. I didn’t point this out, however. I had a multitude of “must have” shoes doing the exact same thing in my closet.
“I see you all spent a lot of time, not to mention money,
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