Fiction Friday – Stealing Jenny Web Page | Plot Line and Sinker (Ellen Gable, Author)

My soon-to-be released novel, Stealing Jenny, now has a web page!

www.stealingjenny.com

I’ll be posting reviews as they come in.

Here is another short excerpt:

“Mom, we’re home!” Christine’s voice woke Jenny. She opened her eyes and sat upright as all four girls came into the living room. “How come you didn’t meet us at the bus stop? I was scared when I didn’t see you. I saw a lady looking strangely at us from the house across the street from the bus stop. She really creeped me out. I think I saw her following us home too.” Her oldest daughter was scowling and leaning over her. Chris was the only Callahan child who hadn’t inherited some form of Tom’s red hair. With her long brown hair, she reminded Jenny of herself at that age.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I fell asleep. Thanks for walking the girls home. A lady looking strangely at you?”
Her daughter nodded.
Jenny took a deep breath, then exhaled. Chris was a worrier and a little on the paranoid side.
“You know, people are allowed to look out their windows and walk on the street.”
“Yeah, well, she looked kinda familiar.”
“Familiar?”
“Yeah, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen her before.”
“Well, if she lives near the bus stop, you may have seen her in the neighborhood.”
“I don’t think so.” Chris pulled a paper out of her backpack. “Hey, I got 100 on my spelling test.” She held it in front of Jenny’s face.
“That’s fantastic, Chris.”
“Hi, girls,” Jenny called to her twin daughters.
“Hi Mommy,” said Callie and Cassie, in unison.
“Mom, look at my drawing,” Chloe, her six year old, said, as she pushed it in Jenny’s face.
“That’s beautiful, honey.”
* * *
“Jen, sit down. I’ll wash the dishes tonight. You’re supposed to be off your feet.” Jenny’s husband, Tom, was already piling dishes into the dishwasher.
“I know, but you cooked supper too. And the doctor said I could do simple tasks like the dishes and walking the girls to the bus stop.”
“You should be taking it easy. Sit down and talk to me while I do the dishes.” He was gently lowering her to the chair. He flipped the dish towel over his shoulder and washed a pot while whistling the tune from Gilligan’s Island. He wore her apron with the fading letters of “Mom’s Apron: Please Wipe Nose Below Line” with a red line low on the garment. A small darkish stain had taken up residence below the line last summer when she had made blackberry jam. Jenny cringed when she recalled the last time her mother-in-law came for dinner. Doris kept staring at the line and the stain, wondering if Jenny really allowed her kids to wipe their noses on her apron.
Tom glanced at her and winked.
“You look adorable in that apron,” Jenny teased.
“Don’t I know it.”