This week’s post continues with Chapter 7, Scene 4 (1.7.4).
Feedback welcome. Thanks!
I’m still looking for more beta readers; if interested, email me at abehrhardt [at] gmail.
End of previous scene, followed by the link to the new scene:
He leaned into the chair, placed hands on the armrests, turned to face his hostess with a half-formed question, to find she had gone rigid. Ah—damned thoughtlessness. Most people found it amusing when he mucked about with their things, absorbing a gestalt—but she wasn’t ‘most people.’ “Why’d you let me? I’ve messed up your settings.”
She blinked several times, drew an audible breath. “Don’t worry—easy to fix; Stephen loves to spin.”
“My daughter Susan’s boy––he’s four.”
Why not ‘grandson’?
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Copyright by Alicia Butcher Ehrhardt 2013.