“Penny?” Mom’s voice shakes when she slams the front door. “Penny Ann!”
I cringe. It’s amazing how, no matter my age, I instantly want to hide when I hear that tone. I gulp. “I’m in the kitchen.”
When she pushes through the white swinging door, I just barely avoid being hit. Running around the gray marble island, I position myself in front of the stove and stir my butternut squash soup. I have my back to her but that doesn’t keep me from feeling the dagger glare she’s hurling my way.
“Do you care to explain?”
I tuck my chin and move the spoon faster. “I’m making sou—”
“I can see that.” She drums her nails on the counter. “You missed your appointment!”
I wince. I didn’t miss it, I cancelled. I also didn’t think she’d find out. “Well, they weren’t the right publisher for me.”
She groans and internally I shrink as she comes to stand beside me. “That’s been the same excuse for the last three publishers and or editors you’ve talked to. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid, I just have other things going on right now.”
With a sigh, she turns and leans on the counter, crossing her arms. “Writing is your passion. I never thought I’d have to remind you, of all people, that dreams take work, but all you do lately is let it slide.”
I roll my eyes and a split-second later feel a sharp slap on my hind end. “Sorry.”
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Honestly, honey. What’s going on with you?”
To be continued….
I realize this post is really short, but I promise there will be more next week!