To Catch the Moon
“It wasn’t seemly for a new widow to look happy, especially when she’d just buried her murdered husband the day before. But neither the weather nor Joan’s mood made that easy.
As was her habit, Joan drove her navy blue Jag convertible at breakneck speed along the narrow roads that twined through wooded Pebble Beach. Her destination was Henry Gossett’s home, at which she hoped he had both coffee and the living-trust spreadsheets waiting. In a nod to Grace Kelly, she had tied a silk scarf over her blond hair and donned big black sunglasses. In a dismissal of her role as New Widow, she’d put the car’s top down. This was one of those taunting winter days California’s gods occasionally bestowed, so spectacular that residents jettisoned caution along with their overcoats. It looked like April and smelled like April but would not last like April; chances were excellent that the very next day the temperature would drop thirty degrees and the skies would open. So, in homage to the moment’s flee...ting beauty, Joan had let decorum be damned.MoreLess
As was her habit, Joan drove her navy blue Jag convertible at breakneck speed along the narrow roads that twined through wooded Pebble Beach. Her destination was Henry Gossett’s home, at which she hoped he had both coffee and the living-trust spreadsheets waiting. In a nod to Grace Kelly, she had tied a silk scarf over her blond hair and donned big black sunglasses. In a dismissal of her role as New Widow, she’d put the car’s top down. This was one of those taunting winter days California’s gods occasionally bestowed, so spectacular that residents jettisoned caution along with their overcoats. It looked like April and smelled like April but would not last like April; chances were excellent that the very next day the temperature would drop thirty degrees and the skies would open. So, in homage to the moment’s flee...ting beauty, Joan had let decorum be damned.MoreLess
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