Amy had a meeting with her graduate advisor at UCSF in an hour to discuss the final revision of her short story. She couldn't be late. As she grabbed her laptop, her cellphone rang. It was her mother in New Mexico.
"Mom, I can't talk right now. I've got a meeting with my advisor."
"Amy, I have some wonderful news for you."
"You've signed up for a tech class? You're dying your gray hair? You're on another diet? Can it wait? Sorry, mom. I'm in a hurry."
"You can apologize to the prof and blame it on me. This is important. Do you remember your Great-Aunt Sophie?"
"Of course. She wrote fantastic romance novels. We always talked about writing. After reading some of my stories, she thought I had potential. Last time I saw her was at the family reunion three years ago. She was living in an assisted living community and confined to a wheelchair. Don't tell me she passed away."
"Yes, I'm afraid she did."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. She was such an inspiration."
"I'm sorry, too. Apparently, she remembered you. This morning, I received a phone call from her lawyer. He's looking for you."
"Looking for me? Why?"
"Little did we know she had a secret."
"Oh, my goodness. A secret?"
"Yes. And, boy is it a good one. For years, she had a secret lover and a secret hideaway in the Sonoma foothills. Nobody in the family knew."
"No way!"
"Yes! And, according to the lawyer, after her lover died, she never went back to the cabin but she kept possession of it."
"You're kidding. Mom, that's unbelievable. Our Aunt Sophie?"
"Yes. You better believe it. I think their relationship was the foundation of her romance novels. Her lawyer says her instructions are quite explicit. You are to publish her diaries, inherit the cabin, and you're given the rights and royalities to all of her work."
"I still don't believe it."
"This is quite an honor and responsibility. I'm going to send you the address and keys to the cottage. When you get over the shock, drive up to the cabin and look around. It's all yours. Take pictures with your fancy cellphone and send them to me."
Three weeks later, Amy's mom looked at the images of Aunt Sophie's secret hideaway. She called Amy and said, "Look at the picture of the blue bench."
"Yes, the whole cabin needs work. I've got a lot of clean-up to do."
"No, no. Don't you recognize the bench? Her first best selling romance novel was titled "The Blue Bench". Can't you just picture two lovers sitting on that bench in a beautiful garden sharing their private moments? I bet her first novel was an autobiography."
"Could be. But, our Aunt Sophie?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Mom, I can't talk right now. I've got a meeting with my advisor."
"Amy, I have some wonderful news for you."
"You've signed up for a tech class? You're dying your gray hair? You're on another diet? Can it wait? Sorry, mom. I'm in a hurry."
"You can apologize to the prof and blame it on me. This is important. Do you remember your Great-Aunt Sophie?"
"Of course. She wrote fantastic romance novels. We always talked about writing. After reading some of my stories, she thought I had potential. Last time I saw her was at the family reunion three years ago. She was living in an assisted living community and confined to a wheelchair. Don't tell me she passed away."
"Yes, I'm afraid she did."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. She was such an inspiration."
"I'm sorry, too. Apparently, she remembered you. This morning, I received a phone call from her lawyer. He's looking for you."
"Looking for me? Why?"
"Little did we know she had a secret."
"Oh, my goodness. A secret?"
"Yes. And, boy is it a good one. For years, she had a secret lover and a secret hideaway in the Sonoma foothills. Nobody in the family knew."
"No way!"
"Yes! And, according to the lawyer, after her lover died, she never went back to the cabin but she kept possession of it."
"You're kidding. Mom, that's unbelievable. Our Aunt Sophie?"
"Yes. You better believe it. I think their relationship was the foundation of her romance novels. Her lawyer says her instructions are quite explicit. You are to publish her diaries, inherit the cabin, and you're given the rights and royalities to all of her work."
"I still don't believe it."
"This is quite an honor and responsibility. I'm going to send you the address and keys to the cottage. When you get over the shock, drive up to the cabin and look around. It's all yours. Take pictures with your fancy cellphone and send them to me."
Three weeks later, Amy's mom looked at the images of Aunt Sophie's secret hideaway. She called Amy and said, "Look at the picture of the blue bench."
"Yes, the whole cabin needs work. I've got a lot of clean-up to do."
"No, no. Don't you recognize the bench? Her first best selling romance novel was titled "The Blue Bench". Can't you just picture two lovers sitting on that bench in a beautiful garden sharing their private moments? I bet her first novel was an autobiography."
"Could be. But, our Aunt Sophie?"
"Sure. Why not?"
