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Full Development
Henry Schule, MISERY LOVES COMPANY
"A special thanks to my book editor, Charol, who helped me bring it all together and was my sounding board at a time when I really needed the extra support. Charol’s exceptional technical and creative skills brought this labor of many years to final fruition, for which I am enormously grateful..."
ORIGINAL
DEVELOPED
Chapter 1
Peggy O’Reilly gently shook her head in a failed attempt to chase away a sudden onslaught of vertigo.
“You all right, Peggy?” asked her bridge partner and closest friend, Molly Butler.
Peggy scrunched her eyes. “Just a little light-headed.”
“You look white as a ghost. Why don’t we take a short break, girls,” Molly suggested to the rest of the ladies at the table. “Come on, Peggy; let’s get you a glass of punch.” Molly wasn’t an eighth of an inch over five feet and was nearly as wide. She wore her waist-length gray hair in a loose bun and required thick lenses to see. What she lacked in appearance she made up for with the enormous warmth of her heart. She came to Peggy’s side and grasped an elbow to help the much taller woman to her feet. “My God, girl,” she exclaimed, “you’re hard as nails! And as skinny as you look you weigh a ton.” Molly knowingly nodded. “I bet I know why you’re not feeling well, it’s all that exercise you’ve been doing. You push yourself way too hard for a woman of your age, but I’d kill for your figure.” Molly continued with the idle chatter as she guided Peggy toward the refreshment table.
Peggy O’Reilly towered a solid foot over Molly. She worked hard to maintain a body that a healthy forty-year-old would be proud of. Her radiant, naturally blond hair blended easily with a few strands of gray and the lines on her face only added character to her handsome features. When Peggy realized she was placing too much strain on her friend, she stood taller to relieve some of the pressure. They trudged past tables of women deeply engrossed in conversation and card playing. No one paid them any attention. At the snack table, Molly led Peggy to a nearby stool and helped her take a seat. She then filled a plastic cup with red fruit punch and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie—the cookies were a weekly contribution provided by master baker Constance Plow. She handed the cup of juice and cookie to Peggy and said, “I think I should take you to a doctor. You don’t look well at all.” Molly scowled and tried way too hard to look angry. “I’m not kidding.”
1
Peggy O’Reilly shook her head to chase away the sudden onslaught of vertigo.
“You all right, Peggy?” asked her bridge partner, Molly Butler, looking up through thick eyeglasses at her tall friend.
Peggy scrunched her eyes. “Just a little lightheaded.”
“You look white as a ghost.” Molly turned to the other ladies at their bridge table. “Why don’t we take a short break, girls. Come on, Peggy. Let’s get you a glass of punch.”
Barely five feet tall and nearly as wide, with hairs straying from her loose gray bun, Molly waddled to Peggy’s side and grasped her elbow to help the taller woman to her feet. “My God, girl, you’re hard as nails! As skinny as you are, you weigh a ton! I’ll bet I know why you’re not feeling well. It’s all that exercise you’ve been doing. Girl, you push yourself way too hard for a woman your age—though I’d kill for your figure.” Molly continued the idle chatter and guided her friend to the refreshment table.
Peggy realized she was placing too much strain on her shorter friend and lifted herself to relieve the weight on Molly. Peggy O’Reilly had worked hard to maintain her body. Her still-blond hair camouflaged the few strands of white and, she decided, the sags on her face only added character.
Molly and Peggy trudged past the three other tables of elderly women who were deeply engrossed in conversations and playing bridge. Near the snack table, Molly led Peggy to a stool and helped her sit, then filled a plastic cup with the red fruit punch and grabbed a chocolate-chip cookie, the weekly contribution from Constance, their master baker.
Handing the refreshments to Peggy, Molly said, “I think I should take you to a doctor. You don’t look well at all.” She scowled and tried to look angry. “I’m not kidding.”