Chapter 39
Bellini
A week later, over our morning coffee at the kitchen table, our property glistening from a fresh snowfall, my mother told me that I could not work at the bar for one more day. I argued with her, but she knows me well.
“You’ve put in your time, Bellini. Since you were five years old.
You were such a dedicated employee. You could hardly see above the table when you made martinis…
” Her tone became wistful. “And your salads! Works of art the way you arranged the tomatoes in a star pattern, the croutons just so. And don’t get me started on your whipped-cream skills with our famous banana splits… ”
“Mom, no. I know you need help.” But I sucked in a breath. I felt relief, then a huge wave of guilt for feeling that relief.
“Don’t argue with me, Bellini. You’ll make my uterus prickle up again. No more. You’re done.”
“You don’t have a uterus anymore.”
She pushed a check toward me on the table.
“What’s this? You already paid me for working at the bar.”
“It’s your severance pay. You’re fired.”
Wow. “It’s a lot of money. I don’t need severance.” I pushed the check back. “But I’ll accept being fired.”
She insisted I take the check.
“You’re a writer and an illustrator, honey.
You need to write. I’m better, but I’ve decided I’m only going to work at the bar half-time from now on.
At the most. I’ve found that I like not being up until midnight.
I like time to watch movies and putter around the house and my garden. I want to have fun with The Sisters.”
“I think that’s a splendid idea, Mom. You, too, have put in your time.” I squeezed her hand. “Also, Mom…” I didn’t want to get all emotional, but I did sniffle. “Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not being offended or hurt.”
“No, my sweet lemon pie, thank you. The bar has been my life, but it’s not yours. You need to have your own life up here in Kalulell, and that’s writing books that children love and visiting them at school. Your books are a gift. I’m so glad you’ve decided to stay.”
“Me, too.” Logan had brought me so much happiness, and I was delighted to be living in Kalulell again with my mom, The Sisters, my cousins, and friends I’ve known since kindergarten.
I am one hundred percent a Montana woman.
The mountains, the rivers, the streams, they’re all part of who I am. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, darling daughter.”
I moved into Logan’s home with my suitcases in tow. I felt like it was “our” home as soon as my four cats started exploring, my office—with a view of the Swan Mountains—was crammed with my art supplies and writing materials, and my favorite books were piled on the shelves.
I lit candles, Logan turned on the fire, and we had homemade pizza.
I was home.
Yes, home. Home was Logan.
I got my Roxy Belle book in. I used an idea sparked from my conversations with Logan.
I hardly slept as I wrote. I probably worked twelve hours a day, Petunia, Sir Scott, Mrs. Books, and Claws keeping me company.
I saw Logan at night, and after I “put him to bed,” I went back to writing and editing.
Children’s chapter books aren’t that long, but every word counts, and you have to be entertaining all the way through, with lots of dialogue. Plus, you must be a kid in your head.
I loved the story, I did, and more importantly, I knew kids would love it, too. I wanted to bring them literary happiness, and I knew this book would do that.