Apr09
Leaving November
When I came across Deb Raney and her series of books, my heart beat just a little faster. The more I read, the more I knew that this was one author that would be in my extensive library of books. Not only does she have a series of books based in a fictional town in Kansas — but she herself lives in Kansas. Small world. I emailed her to see if I could publish an excerpt of her newest book, Leaving November, but in truth, that was just an excuse. Yes, I truly do want to publish an excerpt here … but I wanted to email her the minute I visited her website, but was hesitant to do so. Being able to ask her permission was just the window of opportunity that I needed to feel comfortable emailing her — as well as asking her where in Kansas she lived. I won’t devulge that information, but she was gracious enough to tell me. Small world!
So, it is only fitting, that this blog that has taken on a life of its own as a “book blog” (that wasn’t by design … its just something the evolved) — to promote a new author (to me!) and her new book. After reading this first chapter, I can hardly wait until the copy of the book I ordered arrived. Its most definately on my list as my next read!
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Leaving November
(Howard Books/Simon & Schuster) is available at bookstores everywhere,
on amazon.com, barnesandnoble. com, christianbook. com, and at your local Christian bookstore.
Copyright © 2008 by Deborah Raney. All rights reserved.
Visit the author’s Web site at www.deborahraney. com
Daughter of the town drunk, Vienne Kenney has escaped Clayburn for law school in California. But after failing the bar exam—twice––she’s back home with her tail between her legs, managing Latte-dah, the Clayburn café-turned-upscale- coffee-shop. Jackson Linder runs the art gallery across the street and Vienne has had her eye on him since she was a skinny seventh grader and he was the hunky high school lifeguard who didn’t know she existed. Now it’s his turn to fall for her and suddenly Clayburn seems like a pretty nice place to be…until Vienne discovers that Jack is fresh out of rehab and still struggling with the same addiction that ultimately killed her father.
Chapter One
November
Vienne Kenney closed her eyes, inhaling familiar scents. Moldy books. Fresh shavings from the pencil sharpener. A bouquet of wilting chrysanthemums. The tick, tick, tick of the ancient grandfather clock in the library’s main hall threatened to carry her straight back to her childhood.
The computer fan clicked on and its whirr rescued her, jolting her into the present—not that the Clayburn Public Library had changed one iota in the eight years since she’d moved away from this two-horse Kansas town. But the Internet was her lifeline, tethering her to California. To her future. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she clicked the mouse and scrolled down the Web page, scanning the list for the only name that mattered.
Her name had to be on that list. It had to be.
One cautious letter at a time, she retyped her name into the search field and clicked again.
Nothing. There must be some mistake. Staring at the computer screen, her vision blurred and she fought to catch her breath.
She took a sip of lukewarm coffee from the travel mug she’d snuck in, then pushed it to the back of the book-cluttered desk. She’d agonized over this moment for three months, and now it was here. And if this official State of California-sanction ed Web site was up-to-date, she had good reason to agonize. The site supposedly verified the name of every person who passed the July bar exam.
So why wasn’t her name showing up? She glanced at the connection icon on the screen. Maybe there was something wrong with the library’s Internet service. Maybe the system was pulling up an old page from when she’d checked earlier today. That had to be it.
She typed in the URL again and entered her information hunt-and-peck style. The page refreshed––with the same results. She slid the ponytail holder from her hair and combed her fingers through the tangled mass of curls.
She couldn’t have failed. Not a second time. A sick feeling settled in the hollow of her stomach. She’d lived through this humiliation once.
She massaged her temples in slow circles. She’d done everything right this time. Studied her heart out. Spent money she didn’t have on a course that practically guaranteed her success at passing the bar. She’d been so confident….
How would she ever live it down if she’d flunked the bar exam again? Tens of thousands of dollars wasted on a law degree—money she’d spent grudgingly because of its source.
She lifted her head and stared at her cell phone lying on the desk beside the computer’s mouse. Her mother would be calling any minute, expecting to celebrate good news. And Jenny, too. Her roommate had another semester to go, but Jenny was brilliant. She would pass easily. On her first try. Salt in the wound.
Vienne put her head in her hands. She’d probably be fired from her job the minute word got out. And if she knew Richard Spencer, he was probably online at this very moment back in California, checking the results to make sure her name was there. When he discovered it conspicuously absent, he’d no doubt call to offer consolation and a shoulder to cry on.
But he would fire her just the same.
A sour taste filled the back of her throat, and she washed it down with a sip of lukewarm coffee. At least she wouldn’t have to walk in to work and face everyone Monday. But she couldn’t stick around here either.
Mom probably had half of Coyote County praying for her. Since the day testing started in July, her name had no doubt been at the top of the prayer chain list at Community Christian, complete with all the gory details: Please pray God will bless my daughter, Vienne, with success as she takes the bar exam. This is especially important since she flunked—by a margin of quite a few points—the first time she took the exam.
Vienne gave a silent, humorless laugh. Ironic she would find her name on that dubious prayer list, and nowhere in sight on the list that mattered.
The walls of the library closed in on her. She started to push away from the desk. But something—some misguided sense of hope—compelled her back to the computer. She put her hand over the mouse again. Did this Podunk library even have the right software to display the page correctly?
A glimmer of optimism sparked in her. Maybe she’d just missed it. The page refreshed, and the ominous message appeared again: No names on the pass list match “Vienne Kenney.” And this time she knew the truth. She’d failed. Again. Thirty years old and she would never be able to sign her name Vienne Renée Kenney, Attorney at Law.
Brinkerman & Associates had been forced to keep her on after the first time she’d failed. But without a license, they didn’t have a position for her––at least not at a salary she could survive on. Not that she’d consider staying at the firm after this humiliation. And she would not take the test a third time. She’d wasted too many years and too much of her mother’s money. Her father’s money.
She shuddered. It was time to cut her losses, and move on. But the job market in Davis was pathetic. Besides, did she really want to face the chance, every day, that she might run into some well-meaning Brinkerman associate who’d feel obligated to pat her arm and tell her how sorry they were and how much they missed her and how was she doing? And was she taking the exam again, etc., etc., ad nauseam?
But where could she go now? She stared at a large painting hanging on the wall in front of her—a misty landscape of gnarled cottonwood trees and a green-watered river. It was probably supposed to be the Smoky Hill that Clayburn was built upon. It was a peaceful scene—and nicely done. But it was locus classicus Kansas. And she had shaken the dust of Clayburn off her feet when she left town the summer after high school graduation. The only dreams she’d ever entertained about returning involved thumbing her nose at this hick town and her so-called friends who had made her persona non grata when she needed them most.
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