Fran stretched across the chaise lounge, enjoying the sunny April afternoon. Setting the legal pad on the table, she closed her eyes as the heat of the California sun warmed her body.
Her life had changed since their vacation to New York. Maxwell had become more supportive of her writing by proofreading her work, making suggestions, and giving her a swift kick in the tuchas when she needed it.
Even though she welcomed his help, it still surprised her when he helped her prepare her poem and story for submission to the magazine Joanna gave her. She even liked the title he suggested, Love's Dance.
Fran felt someone standing over her. She looked up, meeting the eyes of the man who occupied her thoughts. He leaned over, meeting her lips in an upside down kiss.
"Good afternoon darling."
"Actually its now a very good afternoon," she replied with a quick smile and a wink. "How was your day?"
He sat on the edge of the chaise lounge. "Not bad, although I think this maybe the last season for the show."
"Why? I thought it was doing well."
"The ratings are starting to slip. The network brass is trying to decide whether the show should be canceled or try to salvage it." Stroking her thigh, Maxwell asked, "So what have you been up to today?"
"It was such a lovely day that I decided to write outside."
"How is your writing going?"
"Okay. I'll let you read it a little later."
"Speaking of your writing, this came in the mail for you." Anxiety bloomed inside her as she stared at the envelope in her hand. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"I can't." Passing it back to him, she quietly asked, "Would you read for me?"
"Are you sure?"
At her nod, he began to lift the edges of the seal. He scanned the letter, slowly taking in the words on the page.
It can't be good, she thought. He's taking too long. "It's okay Max. I already know what the letter says."
He arched his eyebrow. "Oh? What do you think it says?"
"Thank you for your submission, the work you sent in doesn't meet out requirements, whoever said you could write lied, don't bother us again."
"Now, would you like to know what the letter actually says?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Why not."
"Dear Ms. Sheffield, thank you for your submissions. Your poem, A Rose in Winter, will be published in the upcoming issue of The Virgin Chronicles. However, we decided not to publish your story, Love's Dance. Although our staff enjoyed reviewing your submission, they felt that our magazine was not the proper forum to publish this particular work. Thank you for your submissions and best of luck with your future writing projects."
When she didn't respond, Maxwell shook her by the shoulders. "Fran? Darling, are you all right?"
"Oh my God," she whispered. "Can you believe it? Something I wrote will be published for the entire world to see."
"I know," he said pulling her in his embrace. "Congratulations on your poem. I am sorry they decided not to publish your story. I thought it was quite good."
She took the letter from him to read the words for herself. "I never expected this to happen."
"See, Joanna was right. You took a chance and look what happened."
"You don't think it's a fluke do you?"
"Of course not. It's an excellent poem. You should be proud of yourself."
"I am. I just can't believe I'm going to be published!" She threw her arms around him. "Thank you so much Max. Thank you for trusting and believing in me."
"Anytime sweetheart."
As happy as she was, Fran couldn't resist teasing Maxwell. "I'll bet part of you is happy that my story was rejected."
"That's not true Fran. I'm genuinely sorry that your story wasn't published. I know I wasn't that supportive at first, but - " He looked at her, watching the corners of her mouth form a smile. "You're not really mad, are you?" Maxwell shook his head against her rising laughter. "You need to be punished young lady."
Fran leaned forward and kissed him. "Promise?"
"Most definitely. I think we should celebrate. Why don't we give Robert the night off and take the children out to dinner." His eyes flicked down her body suggestively. "And then afterwards, when we come back, I can give you the proper punishment you deserve."
"Oh Mr. Sheffield," she murmured, "you can punish me anytime."
He kissed her again before he stood up. "I'll go let Robert and the children know of our plans for the evening.
Fran smiled, watching Maxwell as he crossed the patio and entered the house. A myriad of emotions flowed through her. She was awestruck by the turn of events in her life. She had come a long way from her life in Queens.
Growing up, she dreamed of a wonderful life. Thanks to fate, her dreams came true. She had an adoring husband, five wonderful children, two terrific grandchildren, not to mention warm and loving parents, her sister, Val, and now Joanna.
Picking up the letter, Fran reread it, digesting the content and its meaning. Discovering this hidden aspect of her life, of her self, was a welcome surprise. She embraced it as she did life: passionately and whole- heartedly.
