Welcome to the Fifteen Minute Novel. Each morning I spend fifteen minutes writing on a singular story line. Each morning starts with the last line of the previous day. The goal is to get a (very) rough draft out of the simple story idea and to avoid letting the story idea languish in limbo forever, actually writing it out. This is the third year I have done this writing experiment and each year I learn just a little bit about myself and the way I write as well as creating a framework for the story. But without further ado…
Day 87: “Nice to know,” Gwen said with a smile.
“Nice to know,” Gwen said with a smile. She didn’t mind being the excuse he used to get sausages on his breakfast plate. She left him to finish cooking while she went for her morning shower. By the time she emerged dressed in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, her grandmother was setting the table.
“Good morning run?” Margaret asked.
“It was yes,” Gwen said. She decided not to mention Peter’s questions about her potentially going to work. “Last night I looked up a few things,” she said. The food was passed around and they started to eat. “There is a place that has a baking and pastry class and another one that seemed like it does basic cooking classes. Both seemed like they were within walking distance.”
“If you’ve got no other plans we can walk over and check them out if you’d like. Or I can let you go alone if you aren’t interested in company,” Margaret said.
“I wouldn’t mind the company,” Gwen said. “And I figured it would be a place to start.”
“I think it is a lovely idea,” Margaret told her.
“And I am always available for pastry testing,” George replied.
“Not if you keep eating sausages for breakfast,” Margaret told him.
“I only get sausages when there are no pastries,” George said.
“You only get sausages a few times a month until your doctor says otherwise,” Margaret told him. “I saw your numbers.”
“I have been very good,” George said looking affronted. Margaret rolled her eyes and George took another sausage off of the platter.
“I had an e-mail from Dad,” Gwen said before Margaret responded to the sausage theft.
“And how is he?” Margaret asked.
“He and Sharron are going through with a divorce,” Gwen told them.
“Oh,” Margaret said. “Well perhaps it is best if you are here while they sort it out.”
“Maybe,” Gwen said. She could imagine either of them getting her involved in anything. “I also heard from a friend of mine, Michael. He is staying with his family this summer. They live on the other side of the park.”
“Really? Where,” Margaret asked. Gwen gave the address Michael gave her. “We actually know several people in the building,” she said nodding. “What’s the surname?”
“Well Michael’s last name is Wallace,” Gwen said. “Both his parents got remarried but I think he kept his father’s last name.”
“Wallace,” Margaret repeated. She leaned back and narrowed her eyes. “I know a Jenny Wallace but I think she and her husband have two daughters. I don’t recall a son, but if he only spent summers there then I might not have met him. Jenny is on a charity board with me actually. It might be the same family. I’ll have to look it up.”
“I don’t know the names of his father or step-mother, or his siblings,” Gwen added.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Margaret said. “He is your friend and that is what counts. How nice he is nearby.”
Ten til Midnight 