The Rejected Writers' Book Club (Southlea Bay) Read Online Free PDF Page A

culminate in an event at the library I am calling Reflection and Connection for Those Who Know Rejection.”
    Sipping my tea, I was in an odd kind of awe; only Doris could create a successful event out of other people’s utter failures.
    “During the week leading up to the celebration, we’ll hold a number of fun special events, such as the burnt cake tea party and a demonstration of how to kill your houseplants with style.”
    All the ladies in the group talked at once.
    Doris waited, her domineering silence quickly taking command.
    “This will build to our special library event. Available to all walks of the community, it will allow them to bring all their rejected gifts together at one event to share. Tone-deaf singers, dancers with two left feet, musicians that are all thumbs, and nurses that make their patients worse are all welcome. We’ll be there to support them with our rejected letters and books; the only criteria would be they have to love what they do. Anyone sharing his or her gift will have to add some money to our rejection jar. All the money we raise will go to the charity we support, the Rejected Children’s Fund of Island County. It would be like a mighty Rejectathon. What do you all think?”
    They clapped enthusiastically, their mutual excitement bubbling in the air as Doris nudged me, saying, “What do you think, Janet?”
    What did I think? That I should get out of here before it was too late, that’s what I thought. It was a very noble sentiment, but I couldn’t imagine anyone actually turning up. I just grinned and said, “Well . . . that . . . sounds . . . interesting. Let me talk to Karen and get back to you.” I jumped to my feet then, handed my empty cake plate to Doris, and added, “But I really should be going now.”
    “Already?” said Ruby. “This month we’re reading my newest book, Blood and Gore in Hell Town .”
    “And I was going to read a snippet of Carnal Love in the Land of Spices , if Lottie ever went to the bathroom,” piped up Lavinia.
    And there it was again.
    “Lavinia!” exclaimed her sister.
    I just kept moving down the hall; I was on a roll.
    “Oh, they all sound so amazing and maybe another time, but I really need to go.” I handed the tablecloth I was wearing to Doris and made my way to the door. Ethel was already waiting for me there, making sure I didn’t leave with the candlesticks, no doubt.
    As I started the car, my cell phone rang. It was my daughter, Stacy. I picked it up, but the reception was terrible.
    “Mom,” she said. Her tone was odd, frantic. “Mom, I need you . . .” Then she was cut off.
    I started to panic. Something was wrong; she didn’t sound like herself. I tried to call her back, but there was no reception. I considered going back into Doris’s and calling from there but thought better of it. I would just get home as fast as I could.

Chapter Three
    MYSTERIES OF PREGNANCY , BY WARE-DID-MA-FEET-GO
    Driving home, I mulled over my relationship with my one and only daughter. I had mixed feelings. We did not have an easy relationship. I love and adore my offspring, and I would throw myself in front of a train to save her life. But I have wondered more than once if she’d actually come out of my body.
    It should have been a red flag for me when she’d presented as a breech birth, because from the first day, it had been a character-clashing, white-knuckle roller-coaster ride. We seem to knock heads at every turn, like a couple of frenzied bells on a turbulent ship during a hurricane.
    When I arrived back at the cottage, there was a note from Martin. Stacy had also called home. Now I was really worried. She never just called me to chat; the last time she called, her kitchen had been on fire. I paced my own blue-and-white, Laura Ashley–decorated kitchen as I redialed. She lived in San Francisco, and at times like this, I hated being so far away from her. She picked up on the second ring.
    “Hi, darling,” I said, trying