The Cottage on Juniper Ridge. Sheila Roberts
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“Oooh, your homemade brownies,” Cass said. “These are the best.”
Stacy smiled, dismissing the compliment. She was no professional like Cass and she knew Cass was just being nice. Still, she was gratified by the praise. She liked to bake.
She also liked to entertain. She’d been happy to take over hosting the book club after Juliet had her baby. With the kids gone, the house seemed so empty. Homes should be filled with people and laughter.
And life should be filled with meaning and purpose. Stacy had to admit that when their daughter, the baby of the family, moved to Seattle to attend the University of Washington in the fall, she’d lost her sense of purpose. Empty-nest syndrome—she never thought she’d experience it. She’d always kept busy with her home, her quilting and her volunteer activities.
She still had the volunteer work. She was on the Friends of the Library committee and was in charge of the monthly book sales. Between that and her quilting and church activities, she had enough to do. And yet she didn’t.
“This is a new chapter in your life,” Dean kept saying. “Now’s your chance to finally get out and explore your options.” He was right, of course, but she still found herself in a quagmire of indecision. Should she go back to school and finally finish her degree? After twenty years? Maybe not. She’d been more into boys and parties than studying when she was in college. She wasn’t sure she was college material.
She could get a job doing...something. Everyone worked these days. She’d worked in retail when she and Dean were first married and had enjoyed it, but now that she was older, going to work for someone didn’t sound all that appealing. The idea of starting her own business intrigued her but she had no idea what kind of business to start. What skills did she have other than baking and finding bargains on sale? And quilting. She supposed she could sell her quilts.
Except who would buy them? Most of the people she knew already had one of her quilts. Anyway, there were many women out there who turned out better work than she did. Her cousin Helen Ross could quilt circles around her.
“Everything looks so great,” Juliet said. “With all these pretty things, your house should be in a magazine,” she told Stacy.
Ha! Take that, Deano. “Tell that to my husband,” Stacy said.
“He doesn’t like your decorations?” Charley asked.
“He thinks we have too much stuff. But I don’t think I have too much,” Stacy added quickly before anyone could agree with Dean.
“I love looking at all of this,” Cass said, “but I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes putting it away in January.” She returned to the living room, sat down on the couch and searched in vain for a place to fit her cup of eggnog among the host of ceramic animals and people visiting the Holy Family. She ended up holding it and Stacy found herself wondering if she should’ve set out fewer camels.
“Sometimes our things can own us,” Chita said, making Stacy frown.
“That’s true. And pretty darned profound,” Cass told her.
If you asked Stacy, it sounded like something you’d hear on Dr. Phil.
“I didn’t think it up,” Chita said. “I read it.” She put her cup on the carpet, and then, balancing her plate on her lap, reached for the book she’d brought in. “I’d like us to read this for the new year.”
She passed it to Cass, who held it at arm’s length and squinted at the title. “Simplicity?”
“It’s not a novel,” Chita said.
“Oh.” Cass was obviously disappointed and handed it to Juliet.
“We just got this in at the bookstore,” Juliet explained. “It’s Muriel Sterling’s new book.”
“I love her books,” Charley said.
“This one is all about simplifying your life,” Chita told them. “She talks about discovering what’s important and learning to shed what isn’t.”
Was this some kind of decluttering, purge-your-closets book? Stacy felt herself squirming.
“You mean having fewer things?” Juliet asked.
“Having less, period. Less stuff to deal with, less stress, less craziness in your life. I’m only halfway through it but there are some really good ideas in here.”
“Well, it’s your pick.” Stacy knew her tone of voice probably betrayed that she was less than thrilled with the selection.
“I think it’ll be worthwhile,” Chita said. “I mean, we’re always talking about how busy we are.” She shot a look at Juliet. “And how tired.”
“This will only help me if it comes with a bottle of vitamins and a live-in nanny,” Juliet quipped. “But I’d love to read it.”
“And if it’s by Muriel we know it’s going to be worth reading,” Cass added.
Chita smiled. “I think this book could change our lives.”
Change. Stacy wasn’t fond of it...unless it was good and it was happening to her. And she wasn’t sure there was going to be anything all that good for her in this particular book.
“I think it’s a great pick for the new year,” Juliet said.
“Sounds great to me,” Charley said.
“Me, too,” said Cass.
“Me, too,” said Chita.
“Anyone want more eggnog?” Stacy asked.
Life should be a joy, not a burden.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Jen was rushing down the street, late for lunch with her sister, when her cell phone rang. It was her friend Ariel.
“Hey, a bunch of us are going to try that new restaurant in Belltown Friday night. Want to come?”
A night out with the girls would have been a welcome change but... “I can’t. I have—”
“A candle party,” Ariel finished with her. “All you do is work. Nobody sees you anymore.”
“I know.” Boy, did she.
“I’m not sure why I bothered to call,” Ariel complained.
She was one of the few who did keep in touch. Most of Jen’s other so-called friends had given up. “I’m glad you did.”
Ariel gave a snort of disgust. “You’re in deep shit with Caroline for missing most of her bachelorette party.”
“I know, but I had—”
“A candle party. There’s more to life than work. And you’d better realize that before you don’t have any friends left.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Jen said. “Glad to see you’re so supportive.” And understanding. Not. She couldn’t help it if she had bills to pay and a failed starter marriage to recover from. And family obligations.
“You wanna talk supportive? Who got you through your divorce?” Ariel demanded. “Who hosted your first candle party?”
Actually, her sister had. She’d been there for Jen when she was going through her divorce, too, but this wasn’t the time to point that out. Anyway, she wasn’t the total scum girlfriend Ariel was making her out to be. “Yeah? Well, who’s always been your designated driver whenever you wanted to go out dancing and get drunk?”
“Saint Jen, who I guess is now too good for her old friends.”
“I’m just busy!”