I’ve been intrigued by the relationship between sisters for as long as I’ve been a writer. It’s a bit odd, actually, because I don’t have a sister myself (just one awesome younger brother). And, yet, despite having watched sister-to-sister dynamics with fascination in real life, I still didn’t expect so many sister pairs to turn up in my fiction. For those of you who’ve read According to Jane, you know that the heroine’s relationship to her big sister is just as fundamental to the story as her conversations with Jane or her romance with Sam…and this new novel I’m working on, Gifts by the Shore (working title), is no different in that regard.
In truth, one of the primary inspirations for this manuscript came from the personality differences of the sisters in Sense and Sensibility. I’d even named the younger and more impulsive sister Marianna and the practical elder one Ellen before I’d consciously realized what I was doing, LOL. And, of course, I’ve long been curious about Jane Austen’s relationship with her own sister Cassandra, and have always been drawn to the idea of Jane finding love along the seashore.
But, I’m a contemporary writer. And this novel is set in Sarasota, not Sidmouth… Also, I’m apparently incapable of replicating the plot of anybody else’s story beyond the most basic structure, even to modernize it, so this is not exactly “Sense and Sensibility Goes to Florida.” 😀 Rather, it’s a present-day tale of two very different sisters who’d made relationship and lifestyle choices that they now need to fully face as mature, adult women. It’s a story about siblings, mothers and daughters, good friends, and getting a second chance at love.
And it’s still very much a work in progress… I’ve written a little over 100 pages so far but, since I do not, in fact, have a sister (!!), I would really love your feedback. Please let me know if something in particular compels you…or if a scene starts to drag…or if a passage comes across as unbelievable or confusing…or, conversely, if any of it rings true and clear. I look forward to all of your thoughts — on the writing, the sister relationship, the beach life, or the hope of finding love after 40!! Thank you. 😉
***
GIFTS BY THE SHORE
CHAPTER ONE: Nautilus and Conch
Marianna Greggor scanned the nearly empty room and picked up her favorite clock—a peachy conch shell, tough on the outside, a delicate pink on the inside, with slightly scalloped edges and a circular clock face with hour and minute hands implanted into the center of it. Her sister Ellen had given it to her years ago, a gift from Florida’s Sunshine Coast.
It read 3:42.
Huh. What could be a more unremarkable time in the middle of an unremarkable day, week, year and, let’s face it, life?
But she’d saved this clock until the end for a reason. Its ticking had kept her company and, now, it played the role of the marker for her final task.
In spite of herself, Marianna felt a heady zip of excitement rising inside of her.
She rolled up the clock in bubble wrap, nestled it into the center of the very last of the cardboard packing boxes and taped the top shut. Sealing the flap of that box was like slamming the door on all four decades of her existence until now. The past tucked safely, firmly inside.
Most everything here, shell clock included, was to be transported to the storage facility that afternoon. Only her one large suitcase, her oversized purse and her frayed windbreaker would be stuffed in the trunk of her car and would make the trek to Ellen’s Florida bungalow with her. God willing. The engine of Marianna’s nine-year-old Civic was about as reliable as one of those mystery vehicles from Louie’s Used Car Lot at the edge of town. But, still—it was her mystery vehicle.
She took a deep breath and studied the room in all its bareness and vulnerability. So strange to be doing this again—making a real move—especially after all of these years.
Only twice before did she have to pack up all of her belongings this way and leave home. Both times it was summer. Both times she knew where she was headed. Both times she’d shared the journey with someone else.
When she was five and her sister was ten, their parents moved them from their two-bedroom apartment in downtown Detroit to a sturdy house in an upscale suburb of Ann Arbor. Nice neighborhood. Good schools. Time proved this was a smart move.
Then, when she was eighteen, just a week after high-school graduation, she moved again, this time with her boyfriend Donny, also eighteen (at least chronologically—his maturity level hovered somewhere around age twelve), into his parents’ basement, two days after their secret elopement in Atlantic City. Time proved this was not such a smart move.
She’d gotten their daughter Kathryn out of the marriage, though, and that was worth something. Quite a lot, really.
But Kathryn was in college now—on scholarship, thank goodness—and the upkeep of a house was too much. Especially being all alone and with no source of income. So, Marianna found herself packing up all of her belongings and moving once again.
Like the first two times, it was summer and, for seven weeks at least, she knew where she was headed. Unlike the first two times, she was not sharing the journey with a single soul.
She could still hear the faint ticking of the conch-shell clock, even trapped as it was in the last packing box.
Time. It did have a way of pressing forward whether she was ready or not, didn’t it?
She rubbed her hands together, contemplating this. Her fingertips caressed the spot where her wedding band had once been, but there was no longer any visual trace of it.
With her heart pounding in metrical synchronicity with clock’s second hand, she peered outside at the yard and at her favorite sugar maple tree in the back. The trees, flowers and muggy atmosphere outside of the now-sold house were no more hers than the paint-chipped walls and dented floorboards. They, too, seemed to be waiting for her to leave Michigan behind for a summer. To see if anything at all awaited her a thousand miles—and a world—away, before she had to return to face the chill of fall and a nearly blank slate come September.
Oddly, she felt almost buoyant. For maybe the first time in the three years since Donny ran out on them, she was genuinely, unmistakably hopeful.
She raised an imaginary glass and toasted the house, the yard, the boxes one last time: Here’s to the past, with all of its good and its bad.
And, while she couldn’t quite bring herself to make a toast to the uncertainty of her future, she managed to raise her make-believe glass one final time: Here’s to new beginnings.
***
CHAPTER TWO: Bungalow 26
“Here’s your key,” Mr. Niihau, the elderly proprietor of the Siesta Sunset bungalows, said to Marianna, handing her a plastic keychain in the shape of a golden nautilus with a single key on the end. “It works for the laundry room, too.”
She nodded and tried not to look as unenthusiastic about the idea of doing laundry as she felt. As hard as it was selling the house and, with it, the washer and drier that she’d scraped together enough cash to buy a year after Donny left her, she couldn’t say she was going to miss the appliances all that much.
“Here are bath towels to get you started.” He placed an assortment on the counter between them. “Garbage bags and a roll of paper towels.” He added those and pointed in the direction of the narrow parking lot. “There should be extras of everything in your unit. Garbage pickup comes on Tuesdays. Throw your bags in the green dumpster at the end of the lot. And there’s a big bin for recycling, too. Fresh sheets on Thursdays. Any questions?”
She inhaled and held the breath deep inside her chest for a moment. She was almost forty years old with no husband, no home of her own and no paying job. Her most pressing question was “Seriously, what am I gonna to do with my life?” but she did not ask Mr. Niihau this.
“Looks like I’m all set,” she told him. “Thank you.”
He smiled kindly, the corners of his eyes crinkling even further. The sun-weathered skin had seen seven decades at least, but he looked as though if someone were to say, “Surf’s up!” he’d grab his board and race them to the water. Ellen had told her he was born in Hawaii and still had the heart of an Islander. Having met him now, Marianna believed that.
“Your sister’s unit is number twenty-six,” he reminded her. “Let me know if there’s anything you need during your stay.”
She assured him she would and, then, meandered down the outdoor walkway. The late-June humidity was so oppressive—good God! She was crazy to think Ann Arbor was muggy by comparison. She felt wrapped in a tight wool blanket, the sweat being squeezed out of her, until she got to the shaded canopy of the bungalow that Ellen and her husband Jared bought as a vacation unit over a decade ago.
With the exception of a few weeks every winter, Ellen and Jared didn’t visit this property. They just rented it out through the year with the help of Mr. Niihau and his staff—often to an assortment of regulars and to some others, mostly families, who were looking for a place to stay on their beach holiday.
But not this summer.
For seven weeks, Ellen kept the reservation book clear for her. A gift for which Marianna had no earthly idea how she might ever repay.
The door to unit #26 creaked as she unlocked it. She twisted the knob, pushed her way in and stepped inside a photograph.
She remembered this image exactly from a snapshot her sister had sent one winter: A lush floral sofa with pretty buttercup throw pillows dominated the living room. A glass coffee table was parked in front of it. A small spotless kitchen was just beyond the front seating area with stainless steel appliances and a circular dining table jutting up against the main kitchen counter. A hallway could be found beyond that, with speckled tile floors throughout, an occasional throw rug and stark white walls dotted with a few small seascapes to break up the monotony.
The only difference between the photo in her memory and this room was that, in the former, her smart, successful older sister was lounging on the sofa, drinking from a 24-oz. ceramic mug of extra-strength coffee and glancing up from her collection of work pages scattered on the glass table in front of her. Marianna had no such papers in her own bag, just an invisible, ever-growing list of differences between Ellen’s life and hers. Ellen’s ability to do work while on vacation was only one of them.
Her loafers click-clacked against the ceramic tiles as she strode down the hall to where the bedrooms were hidden. There were two available: one with a queen bed and one with a double. She opted for the larger of them—well, why the heck not?—and tossed her suitcase, purse and jacket in the corner. The only items she retrieved from her bag were her flip-flops, which she slipped on after kicking off her travel loafers. Like the way Mister Rogers changed his shoes at the start of his show when she was a kid, she felt the need to do the same.
She smoothed down a few wrinkles from her short-sleeve shirt and shorts and inhaled. Yes, she was as comfortable as she could get under the circumstances. Ready to enter the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.
She squeezed the plastic nautilus keychain in her fist and pivoted toward the door, but the phone rang.
For several seconds, she just stood there, paralyzed by the intrusive tone. Her heartbeat raced to fill the gap between rings. Who would call here? What disaster is waiting to befall me now? She finally snapped out of her inertia and grabbed at the beige phone on the wall.
“Hello?” she said, her voice sounding tinny and unsure even to her own ears.
“Marianna!” came the energetic, good-natured growl on the other end, signifying her sister. “Welcome to Sarasota!”
She glanced out the front window, straining to spot Ellen’s wiry frame, her sharply defined jaw, her mischievous brown eyes. She didn’t see them. “Are—are you here?”
Ellen laughed. “No, silly. I’m home in Connecticut.” She paused, no doubt enjoying making Marianna wonder and squirm. “I asked Mr. Niihau to email me after you checked in. That’s how I knew you’d gotten there.” She could hear Ellen’s laptop keys clicking and the distinctive echo-y reverberation that indicated she’d switched her over to speakerphone already. Her big sister, Queen of Multitasking. “So, what do you think?” Ellen asked. “Do you love it already?”
Marianna couldn’t help but grin into the receiver. “I arrived ten minutes ago, Sis. The Gulf looked very pretty from the car window—I caught a few glimpses of it on the interstate. But I haven’t been to the beach yet.”
Ellen half smothered one of her involuntary huffs of disapproval, but Marianna still heard it. Much as she loved her sister, the woman was not known for her patience, and Marianna found herself relieved not to have to deal with her face to face. Was it too much to ask not to be judged for one day? By anybody?
“You should go out and walk around,” Ellen commanded. “You can call me back after you’ve taken a look.” She paused but not long enough for Marianna to explain that this was what she’d intended to do. “You like the bungalow, though, right?”
“I do,” she said truthfully. “It’s just perfect. Everything I need, and nothing I don’t. It’s simple. Uncluttered. Like Miss Garwood’s private cabin at Camp Willowgreen, only much nicer and without all those snot-nosed little kids and pesky teen counselors knocking on the door, asking annoying questions.”
Her sister found this description very funny—laughing in delight, and even pausing (albeit momentarily) in her typing to get all sentimental about Camp Willowgreen and witchy camp director Miss Garwood. “Oh, man, those were the days,” Ellen said as she waxed fondly over memories of tipping canoes and mosquito bites. Ellen had, apparently, forgotten that Marianna didn’t share her love affair with summer-camp adventures, and it never did any good to try to explain to her sister that she was more ambivalent than not to those long weeks away.
However, Ellen had blithely given her the kind of gift worth the weight of Mr. Niihau in gold. Marianna’s heart almost burst open in appreciation of it but, at the same time, being in Florida felt like an exercise in procrastination to her. Like she’d been sent off to summer camp when everyone else was busily working on something more productive. She wasn’t sure how anything she might do in Sarasota would help her when she got back to her real life, any more than learning to play water polo, roasting marshmallows over a fire or weaving placemats were skills of much use to her in high-school geometry or sophomore world lit.
“I envy your summer,” Ellen concluded on a sigh.
Marianna rolled her eyes, glad her sister couldn’t see her. She once again told Ellen how grateful she was for the use of the bungalow.
“Then why the hell don’t you sound happier?” Ellen demanded.
What to say to this? Up until Marianna’s senior year in high school, her sister was always five years ahead of her. That was a given. Marianna never thought for an instant she’d catch up to her. Not really. But, if she were to be honest, she’d hoped their experiences would eventually even out.
And, for a time, they seemed to. After Marianna’s impromptu marriage, right around the time when Ellen, by contrast, was in the process of getting her very practical CPA, Marianna almost felt more experienced. She was a married woman and then a mom, living an adult’s life, even if it was in her in-laws’ basement. Ellen, meanwhile, was still a student, living single with Mom and Dad at home.
But that soon reversed again—in Ellen’s favor.
When Ellen moved out, became a tax partner, started dating Jared and began jetting off on international vacations to exotic locales like Bali, Ixtapa and Prague…the sisters’ five-year age difference seemed magnified to ten. And when Ellen and her man relocated to New Haven, Connecticut (Jared was a Harvard grad living in Yalie waters), had a lavish wedding and moved into a McMansion overlooking Long Island Sound, the gap between the sisters felt like decades. Ellen was a mover and shaker in her world, up in the stratosphere, while Marianna was…well, nowhere close. And that always seemed to scratch at her insecurities. Something she sure as heck didn’t need right now.
Marianna took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you’ll understand this because you’re so…so good at everything,” she said, knowing this would probably be interpreted by her sister as “whiny” even though she was trying hard not to be. “You have a husband who loves you. A beautiful home. A career you excel at.” She frowned. “I mean, I’m sure your life isn’t totally perfect.” Although, to Marianna, Ellen’s life had always seemed that way. “I’m sure you get tired of working so many hours sometimes and you need a break. But my being here isn’t fun like that. It’s not a vacation, you know? It’s a delay tactic.” She slowed her speech in hopes that the truth might sink in. “I failed at everything, Ellen. I have to start all over again. This isn’t a ‘happy’ kind of thought.”
There was a long pause on the line. Oh, damn. She was finally getting through to her sister, perhaps, but she was managing to offend her in the process. “Sis, I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because you’ve been wonderful to me. But I’m just—just—”
“Scared,” Ellen supplied. She exhaled. A long, slow breath. Marianna could hear the air streaming out of her like a deflating balloon and knew she was the one responsible for puncturing Ellen’s good mood. She was a lousy little sister.
When Ellen spoke again, her voice had that clipped businesswoman tone to it that Marianna always heard her sister use when speaking to clients on her iPhone. “Well, explore a little and get to know the area. Sarasota is pretty different from Ann Arbor, so your first visit to Florida ought to be an eye-opening experience. Even if it isn’t a vacation.”
She was mocking her now. Marianna rolled her eyes again but succeeded in uttering a very cordial, “Okay.”
“And stop being so hard on yourself,” Ellen said, evidently unable to turn off the bossy big-sister gene for more than ten seconds. “You did not fail at everything. From what my niece tells me, you’re not even an entirely dreadful mom.”
Marianna laughed. She’d cheerfully strangle Ellen sometimes, but her sister was funny. Plus, she knew Ellen loved her. And Kathryn. That counted for more than a little.
“Anyway,” Ellen said, “we all need a fresh start sometimes. Regardless of our age or how successful people think we are.” Marianna heard the rapid-fire clicking again and was so preoccupied trying to calculate how many words-per-minute her sister must’ve been typing—she was almost positive she was a hair faster than Ellen at that, if at nothing else—that she almost missed Ellen’s last sentence. “No one wants to stay in a rut forever,” her sister murmured. “Not even a gold-plated one.”
***
A mix of cerulean with teal for the furthest watery depths.
A dabbling of silvery sunlight, whiting out patches of sea and sand like a spotlight.
Gil Canton studied the shoreline with the practiced eye of an artist. Which was what he was, he reminded himself. Never mind the low, deep voice from decades’ past that told him otherwise. That told him he should be using his powers of observation on “a worthier, more global cause.”
Bullshit.
A faint blend of burnt umber and goldenrod in a subtle line underscoring the crisp cottony tufts of rolling waves.
A flash of gray and green as the sunfish tangled with the seaweed just below the surface.
Anyone with a heart knew the creatures of the ocean were as worthy and as global as anything out in the world. That the Gulf was not only a visual feast for a painter, but it was a composer’s symphony, a poet’s playground.
Anyone with a heart…ahh. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Gil grimaced. Calf-deep in the warm water and strolling languidly along the Siesta Key shoreline, he picked up his stride to outrace that old, familiar voice. It didn’t work. It never the hell worked. But he turned his attention to the passersby in hopes of a distraction.
Shades of skin color in a palette of creams, tans, bronzes, chocolates and, sometimes, sunburned reds.
The fascinating discordance of fabric hues and textures and patterns, draping the wearer in a manner that left no question as to whether the individual wanted to be noticed…or wanted to blend into the seascape.
He knew he looked at the beach differently than he had when he’d first moved here twenty-six years ago. And, unlike the appreciative but unobservant gazes of the bikini-clad tourists, he needed to distinguish between the various ranges of blues and greens, the buffet of multicolored accessory images and the differing degrees of whiteness from the sand to the bungalows—for the sake of his passion. His paintings.
Why was it so easy, so natural for him to be both loving and discerning in one area of his life but not in another?
With a canvas, he could step back and assess it. If he saw he’d done something wrong or, more frequently, had neglected to do something completely right, he would be able to see the problem area with the help of a few feet of distance and, then, correct it.
With relationships—parental, romantic, professional or otherwise—it was never that simple. Stepping back was harder for the other person to accept. And it tended to create more damage, even when the objective was to do just the opposite. To achieve a fresh perspective. Clarity.
Art and life? Not so much the same.
He kicked lightly at a broken conch with the tip of his water shoe. Even with a chunk of its shell missing, it was still beautiful. There was almost heartbreaking beauty on this shore.
Seagulls squawking above and around him in a flying dance of circles and landings.
Children splashing and frolicking, often with a battalion of siblings and water toys.
An old woman dressed in white standing beside an attractive younger lady—an obvious newcomer—in his direct line of sight. The latter was a tad overdressed in her pinkish t-shirt and navy shorts. Untanned and pensive. Awed by the Gulf setting in that mystified tourist sort of way. The coast was full of visitors like that. Nothing wrong with them, he supposed. His business depended on them, after all. But it was hard to get to know many people well in such a transient environment.
With a shrug, he returned his focus to the water—the rhythmic breaking of the waves trying their darnedest to drown out his father’s voice once and for all until, a few minutes later, a sound he couldn’t ignore pierced his concentration.
***
(End of Part 1) This was already a rather long post, so I didn’t want to add the final scene of Chapter Two as well, but that is where Marianna and Gil will meet. I’ll start with that segment on October 7th, when I share Part 2! Hope you liked it so far… 🙂
~Marilyn
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Just checking my e-mail before going off to bed and found this delightful gift…but will wait until I am fully awake with a cup of coffee to read it completely. The introduction makes it sound so full of intrigue about relationships and then….love after 40 – Wow! Can only think this is going to be a very good WIP. Thank you – makes Monday morning so worth getting up for now!
Oh, Sheila, thank you! I truly look forward to reading your comments tomorrow.
I hope you’ll like it! 🙂
I really enjoyed this beginning. I was caught up in it, took me a moment to resurface when I finished reading! I can’t comment on the realism of the sister dynamic from personal experience as I am also sisterless, but it seemed pretty real to me. I think it’s hard sometimes, particularly for same-sex siblings, there is an element of comparison that happens. I like their bond too.
Ceri, thanks so much for reading this and for your comments on the opening scenes! I’m delighted you enjoyed them 😉 . And, having watched my mom and her sisters my whole life, I agree with you on that element of comparison being ever-present in the family. It always seemed much more prevalent between the girls themselves than between the any one of the girls and their brothers. But I also noticed the sisters were much more involved with each other’s lives than the brothers’ were.
Beautiful, Marilyn. After the sisters talked on the phone I had tears in my eyes (I do have an older sister, and it all rang very true to me!)
This is lovely – so pleased you are busy writing another lovely story!
Cassandra,
Oh, thank you!
That means so much to me that you liked it and that the sister relationship rang true to you!! I really appreciate your thoughts and your kind words! 🙂
Loved it, Marilyn! I’m very lucky to have a sister, and relationships between siblings make fascinating stories, I think. It’s a fabulous beginning!
Jane, thank you so much!!
And, yes, they sibling relationship — in all of its variations! — is just fascinating. I’ve watched sister bonding only from the outside, but there’s a dynamic there that’s almost always powerful and intriguing. There are a lot of layers between my husband and his brother in their relationship, too, and I’m compelled by that as well. Families give us so much material to explore, don’t they?!
😀
Hi Marily, I love you story about sisters relationship, I have two sister, one is older then me two years, and the other is young then me two years, I can tell you, we have good relationship and also sometime bad relationship, now they all been married, and busy with their husband and childrens, we contacted each other less than few day, I always thinking about them and my nephews and nieces, I like the beautiful shell you show me.
Linda,
Thank you for your lovely comments! I’m delighted you liked the story and the sister relationships 😉 .
They are complicated, I know. I liked what you said about how sometimes they are good and other times they aren’t… I think many of us have experienced that, too!
Keep going. I am intrigued and ready to read more. Gil’s images of the “Coast” (the Gulf is the best!) were so vivid and so true. Thanks for the great post.
Maggie,
YAY! Glad you’re intrigued!! I have the first 100 pgs or so drafted, but there’s quite a bit to write still… I’m trying to work my way through it 🙂 . And I’m pleased you liked Gil’s description of the Gulf Coast — it’s one of my favorite places to visit. So beautiful!!
I have more sisters than one girl needs. LOL My dad had a penchant for relationships and children. However, my younger sister and I grew up together and I can attest to the veracity of this first conversation. No matter how much we love each other, we always see things in the others life that we assume makes their life work perfectly or else we assume that they are a total bomb. Usually nothing in the middle LOL The WIP sounds lovely, and as a lover of all things beach…I was pulled in by Gil’s observations of color and shade. Looking forward to reading more!
Stephanie, thank you for your sweet comments about the story itself and for chiming in on the sister-to-sister relationship! I loved hearing about your experience. It’s that push/pull of great sisterly love contrasted with expectations/judgments that intrigues me so much in my friends and family members with sisters. It almost always seems different than the loving but rather laid-back bond my brother and I share. I think there’s just not the same level of expectation from others that he and I will be similar. And maybe because everyone else is always expecting us to be very different, my bro and I have focused our relationship through the decades on the ways we’re alike. (Even though, in truth, we ARE quite different, LOL.) Ah! Family is complicated 🙂 .
You paint lovely pictures with your words. The photos are so beautiful – love the pearl in the shell (my birthstone).
Yes, here I am with my second cup of coffee. I am left with a mood of anticipation. I have a sister who is younger by 13 months and am the mother of 2 girls, separated by 2 years, 7 months. My relationship with my sister is much like that portrayed in According to Jane – we hated each other growing up but are very close now even though we live in neighboring states. We share secrets and feelings that no one else would understand. But we are very different, as are my daughters – so your description of these sisters is consistent with my experience. Even with differences siblings share common backgrounds/histories so understand what, why and wherefore so much more than anyone else. That – even tho they may interpret it into their own personalities and lifestyles in very differing ways.
I very much look forward to this. Obviously that is much about Gil we have not heard. His relationship with his father has a story worth hearing/reading of, it seems! Thank you for this and bring it on….LOL!
Oh, Sheila, many thanks for coming back to read the scenes…and bringing coffee, too!! (My caffeine fix from the morning has now worn off, and I need a second cup right about now as well!)
Thanks for sharing what your relationship with your sister is like, and your daughters’ relationship as well. Fascinating that you and you sis were like Ellie and Diana in According to Jane!! (I *loved* writing about them as siblings and marking their growth through the years… I’m glad you and your sister grew so close as you both got older 🙂 .)
I’m so glad you’re looking forward to more of the story…and, yes, Gil and his dad don’t exactly have a harmonious relationship! It may take more than one book to work out that mess, LOL.
I love it, Marilyn! Gil’s artist voice is just perfect, and I’m very intrigued by the relationship between Marianna and Ellen.
Thank you so much, Abigail!
I used to love to paint (not that I was very skilled at it, unfortunately!), but I poured my love of those stunning water/sky colors into Gil’s perceptions. My Midwestern eyes just couldn’t believe the sight of that amazing Gulf Coast beach when I first saw it… So beautiful. 😉
The chapters kept me engaged, Marilyn. As for the sister relationship, I am an older sister, and have the same attitude as the elder here…except I hate multitasking. I tend to have very little patience with my younger sister. We are not close as she is mentally impaired, but she is still my sister. Looking forward to the continuation of this book. I love the Florida gulf and ocean, especially at sunrise and sunset.
LOL about the multitasking, Deborah!!
Necessity has made me multitask more often than I’d like, but I’m not a huge fan of it either 😉 .
I’m delighted the early part of the story kept you engaged — thank you for reading and for sharing your thoughts! I hope you’ll like the next section as well. This novel is a bit of a love letter to the beauty of the Gulf Coast…I’m so glad you love the area, too!
Talking of multitasking – as a student in my late 40’s in El. Ed. we were tested for our own leaning/teaching characteristics. I am abstract/random – like to multitask, work well in groups, etc. I am reading three books, sorting embroidery floss, checking and responding to e-mails, etc. off and on during this day. Just back from running 4 errands, also.
But I was praised for being “organized” while a caseworker – probably b/c the day was so random with various phone calls, visits in the field, people dropping in, training off and on, lots of paperwork on the computer, etc.
Much as I don’t like it I think I am guilty of multi tasking, texting while grocery shopping, hands free job interview while driving, reading while watching TV, and reading 3 or 4 books at once…and well in a preschool classroom there is no way not to.
Oh, and the worst multi tasking….reading while walking.
I have my Ipod on with music while walking.
I believe that’s a lot safer than what I do. 🙂
Author
Deborah, I wish I could read and walk, but there’s no way! (I’ve tried…)
Sheila, I listen to music while walking, too. LOVE my iPod!!
🙂
I have a step sister and a half sister, both younger, but I didn’t see them much growing up, so I’m much closer to my sister in law than to them. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have liked growing up with another girl in the house – we probably would have killed each other. Or at least snatched each other bald lol. My mom has a younger sister and they’re opposites and get frustrated with each other quite often. I think there’s more comparison and competition between sisters, and if the older one seems to have all her stuff together (even if she really doesn’t) it sets a standard for a younger one to meet. It’s interesting watching my 2 nieces growing up, too; hoping they’ll be close when they’re older.
I really loved Gil’s artist-eye observations of the beach. I think a lot of artistic people have that person in their life that says they should get a ‘real’ job, and that must be painful. I’m sure I’ve said before that I don’t read a lot of contemporary or chick-lit, but I *always* fall in love with your characters and relate to them (sometimes more than I want to!) and I expect this will be no exception. I like that Marianna will find love a bit later in life. 🙂
Author
Monica,
Just wanted to say that when I read this, I blew you an enormous air kiss from Illinois:
“I’m sure I’ve said before that I don’t read a lot of contemporary or chick-lit, but I *always* fall in love with your characters and relate to them (sometimes more than I want to!) and I expect this will be no exception.”
You made my night, Mon! Thank you 🙂 . xo
As for the sister competition and comparison…sigh. I’ve seen a lot of that with relatives. I was also an exchange student in high school and spent a summer with a family who had 3 very thin daughters. The running competition between them regarding which of them weighed “the least” at any given moment was pretty disturbing to me, and I was glad not to have to deal with that kind of comparison long term. (Also, I would have lost, LOL. They were as obsessed with being skinny as I was with Jon Bon Jovi at the time!)
My sister and I were as you described, Monica P. We nearly killed each other and very often had fistfuls of hair. How neither of us are bald, I have no clue. But, let someone else try to hurt her and all bets were off….Ibwas at them.
Author
Deborah, I’m not sure if any of the sisters I know well ever pulled each other’s hair (wouldn’t put it past them!), but I do know some who slung insults at each other and, yet, wouldn’t let anyone else do the insulting ;).
Sisters, relationships, lives turned upside down, just when they should be at the pinnacle. In this day and age there are very few of us that haven’t been hit in the face with at least one of these crisis of life.
Sisters – I had the privilege of being the eldest sister, grandchild, cousin, and biggest type A+ out there. LOL The dynamics between sisters in our house ranged from hero worship, to towers of day long Barbie tales, to knock down drag out back stabbing plans to destroy you and your credibility with the parents. AUGH!!!!!
We shared a big old double bed with a cotton tick mattress till we were in Junior High, then continued to share a room, with bunk beds till I left for college.
Like your sisters, I continued in school, while my sister got married just before she graduated from high school…I swear for no other reason than she wanted to actually do something FIRST. LOL
After almost forty years, we finally live within miles of each other again and are rediscovering our friendship, and jointly deal with the parents Lol, as they enter their super senior years.
As the older sister, I also always felt it was my job to make sure that my younger sister (and brother) were safe, taken care of and had everything they needed, even before mine were. How many times are we, the older (oldest) thrown into the role of caretaker and that role follows us through life.
Marilyn, for not having any sisters, geeze. As always, you rock. This is going to be soooooo good. 🙂
Author
Karen,
LOL about your sister getting married so she could do something first! 🙂 I’m the oldest child, too, so I guess — like you — I was used to having to be the responsible one. But the advantage was never having to feel as though I was in anybody else’s shadow. My kid brother complained a bit about having a few teachers who’d had me first and how he needed to deal with my academic record, but he was a pretty good student himself and a FAR, FAR superior athlete. So, in truth, I’m very lucky that I was out of high school before he entered it, or I would’ve heard, “Why can’t you run as fast as your brother?” or “How come you can’t play basketball/soccer/baseball/name the sport/etc. like your little bro?” To which I would have had to reply, “Because, you know, he’s an alien. Any further questions?!” 😀
Thinking back, I have had the privilege of several trips to the gulf coast, from Galvaston, Tx to Buloxi, MX, to several trips to New Orleans over the years. Each locale offers a unique setting. But none of them have the pristine beauty of the beaches of south Florida, from what I have heard.
The visual picture you painted of the beach scene, utilizing the painter’s pallet is wonderful. Okay…Miss overachiever here has her paint set… lol. But when you can start smelling the open tubes and visualizing the strokes of the blobs of color coloring the moving scene before you, WOW…
Multitasking… Lolololololol world’s worst, but enrolled in the 12 step program. (Earlier this week, trying to write a review while keeping the 11 month old from dumping my coffee and keeping up with the 10 and 11 year old grandsons as they are working on home school on their laptops. Meanwhile, I have my DIL’s computer on the table next to me trying to figure out why I can’t get ABCmouse.com to com up and login so the 3 year old will work on his “school” so I can actually get something done. Oh, what? It’s time for lunch?
Author
Loved your comments about the multitasking, Karen!
And I’m so glad you liked the descriptions of the ocean and the beach life from Gil’s artistic point of view. I haven’t seen the Gulf from anywhere *other* than Florida, so I’d love to explore some of the places you’ve visited as well. But Sarasota will always have a special place in my heart. It’s truly lovely 😉 .
What a wonderful start to the story. You pulled me right in. I don’t have a sister (always wanted one), but I can relate to the feeling of always feeling like you aren’t measuring up compared to someone else. I can’t wait to read about Marianna and Gil’s relationship as it develops, as well as Marianna finding herself.
Author
TLeighF~
Oh, YAY! I’m so pleased you enjoyed the beginning and felt pulled in by Marianna & Gil 🙂 . Thank you!!
I’m working on writing more…I wish I were faster at first drafting (!!), but I’m very much enjoying getting to explore these different relationships!
*hug*
Very enjoyable excerpt, thank you! I’m also very intrigued by stories about sisters – I think those can be the most potent and special family relationships, but they can probably also be the most painful and difficult when there is conflict. I have a younger sister, and while growing up it was sometimes a struggle to get along, she is now one of my closest confidants. At least we certainly bond at the level of “Can you believe our relatives are that crazy???”
Because of the fact that we’re genetically similar, I think the competition part is interesting — you would assume that at some basic level you’ve got the similar aptitude to achieve the same things so if you don’t both achieve something you both want, that might be hard to take. On the other hand, as a big sister, I’m genuinely happy for my sister’s accomplishments and want the best for her.
I’ve never been to the Gulf coast! Now I’m intrigued!
Kathy,
Thank you for your lovely comments and for sharing some of your thoughts and experiences on being a sister (and growing up with one!). I suspect you’re more than right about siblings bonding over the nuttiness of certain family members, LOL. Heaven knows, my family has provided my brother and me with a LOT of conversation over the years…and they’ve also given me some very “interesting” material for characters 😀 . I’m glad to hear that you and your sister have become close as the years have gone on. As I’ve seen with some friends of mine, that’s not always a given.
As for the Gulf Coast — I think it’s gorgeous! I hope you’ll get to visit someday 😉 .
Sisters. I have two sisters who are 3 and 4 years older than me. I once described the differences between us as the following: the eldest is bossy but sweet, the middle is brainy but no common sense and I’m the control freak with common sense. I’m closest with the eldest but both can drive me nuts at times and vice versa…remember I’m the control freak! Comparing the outcome of our lives does happen but I think it affects my middle sister more as she is divorced and was a single mom. Our road trips together are part comedy/part drama! And if I’m not the one driving the car, I’m a bit of back seat driver! We had a bit of a dysfunctional childhood which probably helped to keep us very close despite our geographical distances.
Was down in Venice and Sarasota for the first time last October visiting with my sister who has a condo in Venice and where she lives for about 6 months of the year. She and her husband took me to Siesta Keys, Venice Beach, Nucomas (spelling?) and it was lovely. Loved Gil’s visualizing of the scenes. Can’t wait to read more of how they meet and Marianna’s new beginnings. Look forward to the 7th of October!
Carole,
I had to laugh when you mentioned those “control freak” tendencies — I definitely fit in that category, too, and I have no sibling relationships to blame for them! My brother was born long after I’d already developed that characteristic 😉 .
Thanks so much for your sweet comments about the story and for sharing your insights into sisterhood. I’ll bet your road trips with your big sisters are very memorable…and hopefully filled with more comedy than drama! As for Florida, Siesta Key is the area where my husband’s family used to go when he was a kid. I’ve only had the pleasure of visiting Sarasota/Venice/Sunshine Coast few times, but I fell immediately in love with it. How wonderful that you’ve gotten to stay there with your sis!!
I loved the beach scene through an artist’s eyes. I always enjoy your writing.
As for sisters, I have three. My mother used to say she had “six only children”, and I don’t see that we fell into a pattern. I was the youngest & liked observing. My sisters were very patient about my hanging around with them and their friends; this still seems particularly indulgent of them. Their payback comes now, as I can related anecdotes that they’ve long forgotten. I don’t think there was a competition among us, but my mother (in every other way the sweetest woman on earth) did tend to tell me of my sisters’ triumphs. Later I found out from the middle sister that SHE felt Mother was making comparisons in my favour, I agree with the common opinion that the siblings you argue with the most when young are the ones you’re closest to when you grow up, but we didn’t have many disagreements – we tended to look out for each other and help each other. One sister would go out on dates, order a big pizza, eat one piece and bring the rest home as a treat for us. BTW I have a friend whose sister was ten years older than she; their relationship was much as you’ve written. My friend lost this sister A, and most of her memories are of being told what to do or asked penetrating questions. She most regrets that A didn’t confide her own insecurities and confidences, my friend would have liked to have had that closeness and to have been able to help the sister through tough times – to be a friend and equal, instead of forever the little sister.
Beatrice,
I’m so glad you enjoyed the beach scene from Gil’s viewpoint, and thank you for your kind comments about my writing, too!
As for what you said about your friend’s relationship with her sister — that she’d wished to be “a friend and equal” — I would imagine that would be the very best kind of relationship possible. I’m so sorry it didn’t happen that way for her… I’ve seen sisters who’ve managed to achieve that over time and their bond seems to be a true gift for both of them. It sounds as if you and your sisters have enjoyed a genuinely harmonious relationship over the years, though!! It’s really a testament to all of you that you’ve had relatively few disagreements and have been so considerate of each other. Truly wonderful! 😉
It’s definitely good, Marilyn. I feel the sisterly relationship is authentic and I understand the sentiments of both sisters. Behind Ellen’s seemingly perfect life, I’m hoping there is something troubling her because writing about a perfect person doesn’t make a good story. Though Marianna feels she cannot compare to her sister, I’m sure she will be happy and contented with life again. Gil Canton sounds mysterious to me and I want to know more about him.
I’m off to read the second part now.
Lúthien,
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! I loved getting to read all of your first impressions 😉 .
And you’re right that Ellen doesn’t have a perfect life…it just seems that way to her kid sister. Looking forward to reading your comments about part 2!
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