Jillian Chantal

This week the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, wood. I am in the midst of edits on my fall release so I started on a new story at lunch today (Aug 7) to get something up for the week. This is going to be a Halloween story. Or I think it is. LOL

Check out the other tales here.

My friends and I stood outside the remains of the Andry Plantation near the Mississippi River and west of New Orleans, Louisiana. This was the site of a slave uprising in 1811 and we were here to stay overnight on a dare. My friend, Jacques, is a professor at Tulane as well as a descendant of one of the slaves who was part of the revolt. They’d planned to march to New Orleans and start an independent republic for their people.

Ultimately, they were unsuccessful and captured or killed.

At the university, Jacques met the people who’d recently purchased the property to restore and, in the course of his discussion with them about how they would restore the plantation while also being sensitive to the historical context, they had extended him an invitation to come stay.

Upon being informed about certain eerie occurrences, Jacques decided he didn’t want to come alone so he invited me and another friend, Monty. Or, truth be known, he dared us to come. Double-dog dared even.

The three of us stood at the bottom of the short stairs leading to the porch. “Who’s going first?” Monte asked.

I studied the wood floor of the porch. It had more holes than it had planks. “I’ll lead the way but be careful. I worry about the state of that veranda. One wrong step, and your leg will go in one of those holes. We sure don’t want any broken bones.” I paused. “It concerns me about the inside of the house, too. I mean, if the porch is this bad, what’s the interior like?”

“I’ve been assured that the two drawing rooms are in excellent shape. At least the floors are. They’ve already been restored.” Jacques nodded. “Besides, the outside will be less pristine as it’s been exposed to the elements more than the inside.”

Monty looked up at the roof. “Some of it anyway. Looks like some natural air conditioning there in some spots.”

An eerie howl in the woods startled us all. My heart rate increased noticeably. “Whatever that is, I don’t want to be out here waiting for it to come claim me.”

“Nonsense. It’s probably just a panther,” Monty said.

“Just a panther?” Jacques asked. “That’s bad enough.”

The sound came again. Closer this time.

It was too dark out here for my comfort even with the half-moon hanging over the house. “Let’s get inside.”

“What happened to being worried about holes in the floor?” Jacques asked.

“The known is safer than the unknown.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt cold. I am finishing up the book of short stories to come out this fall. This will be the last post (maybe) of this anthology. This is the story with the PR heroine who is trying to transform a hotel.

Check out the other tales here.

Excited to finalize the plans for the photo shoot, I made some calls and was able to land one of my favorite photographers for the next day as he’d had a cancellation.

This made me even more excited. Couldn’t ask for a better omen than Gregory being idle and available. He was the perfect choice. His use of light was absolute genius. Perfect.

The afternoon and evening went by quickly as I worked on the website leaving spots to insert the anticipated photos. I met with each of the maids to discuss what they envisioned for their page on the website and what they suggested for props for their part. It was a nice collaboration and I was happy with everyone’s input. The only one who didn’t meet with me was Tricia. She still seemed a bit cold toward me and I was determined not to let it bother me.

Even Miguel seemed on board for the whole thing. I wasn’t sure if one of the family had discussed with him the necessity of cooperating but I was glad he no longer seemed angry as he had during the meeting. Turns out, he actually was a certified dive instructor and so was Lacey. They’d both team up for those lessons.

I had a chicken salad sandwich for dinner as I worked at the desk in my room. I almost went down to the restaurant but decided to get as much done as I could before the photo shoot since I didn’t want to give Mr. Matthews a chance to change his mind. Slotting in the photos to completed web pages was the best way to go live quickly and see if bookings went up. Please let that happen. Please.

The next morning, after staying up way too late, I was almost ready with the website.

Downstairs, I ran into a few of the maids dressed in their jeans and khaki colored shirts. They had the bandannas knotted at their throats. They looked super cute.

My stomach was in knots though. This was nothing new. I was always like this before things started moving. I’d be fine as soon as Gregory arrived and got started.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt anxious. I am still in my sotry where the main character is a PR person. She is making a presentation to a client.

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“What makes you think anyone would pay to come to this hotel to learn to arrange flowers?” Mr. Matthews asked.

More anxious now since it seemed I wasn’t getting through to anyone at this meeting, I took a deep breath to settle my nerves before I replied. “Yes, I absolutely think so. My thought is we do a page on the website for each of the weekend or week long classes you decide to offer. On the page for that particular activity, you’d post some of the best work so people can see exactly what they’re paying to learn. For example, when I spoke to each of the housekeeping staff you have, I learned that both Riya and Abby have dance backgrounds. They could offer ballroom dancing.” Warming to my ideas, I smiled. “I know a lot of couples where one of them likes to dance and the other is too shy or embarrassed because they don’t know how. You could even add in lessons for local residents who aren’t needing to stay at the hotel but might want to learn. It would be a way to earn extra revenue.”

Mrs. Matthews smiled back. “My husband and I have the same problem. He’s not a dancer. But how do we know the staff will be willing to perform these extra duties?”

Okay maybe I have one person on board. Time to ramp up the presentation. “I know Abby is interested. She was a Rockette. She hurt her knee and misses that part of her life greatly. Offering the employees a percentage of the class fees would also go far in motivating them to help get more participants.”

“If she left the Rockettes because she was injured, won’t my liability be higher if I hire a lady who has a bad knee?”

Before I’m could answer Mr. Matthews, Lacey said, “Granddad, doing the cha-cha and waltzing are nothing like being a high kicking Rockette. I also happen to know Marilyn knows how to Irish dance. That might be fun to learn.”

“What about Tricia? What could she teach? If you talked to everyone, what’s her talent?” Miguel asked, his arms crossed over his chest and no look of friendliness on his face.

This week the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt die. I’m working on the last short story in the book I am going to release in the fall.

Check out the other tales here.

When I arrived at the meeting room for the conference with my clients, Lacey and Miguel were both there as well.

It was do or die time. I didn’t really expect the rest of the audience but I’d made presentations to whole boards of directors in the past who looked at me as if I didn’t belong in their men’s only enclave so this shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I’d had ice cream with Miguel and a tour of the milking facilities with Lacey. Their grandparents had also been kind since I arrived so this should be fine. Right.

I opened my laptop and turned it toward the screen that had been placed at the end of the table. As I started the PowerPoint, I took a deep breath.

“This first couple of screens might be a problem as I prepared them before my tour of the milking area. We can adjust the idea as necessary.”

The picture I had on screen two was of a milkmaid sitting on a stool with a pail under a cow’s udders and the maid’s hands on one as milk squirted out.

The nervous sounding laughter around the table caused me some distress. I feared they’d toss me out before I could fully explain so I started talking fast.

“My thought is to use what you have already on hand as resources to attract more business.”

“And how does milking a cow do that?” Miguel asked.

“Since we’re so close to New York City, there are a number of people who have never had a countryside experience. They haven’t had a chance to get up close and personal with cows or other livestock.” I laughed. “Like me for example. I had no idea cows were so full of personality until that one came up to me yesterday and licked my phone. She also liked it when I patted her nose and side. I had no clue these creatures were so gentle and loving.”

“But how does that attract the kind of clientele we want? We’re trying to be a conference center that attracts conventions. Did you not understand the request? It doesn’t seem so.” Mr. Matthews sat back with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

Oh boy. He was going to be a hard sell. “Yes, sir, I understood. If you’d please give me a chance to explain all my ideas, I think you’ll be pleased.” My gut was tied in knots as he stared at me like I was a three-headed hydra.

In a moment, he gave a slight nod. “Five minutes. Then you’re gone if you haven’t shown me something I can use.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales a writing to the word prompt black. I am still working on my set of short stories for fall release. This is the last one and I hope to have it done by next week so I can get the volume to my editor. The protagonist in this story is a PR person who is trying to revamp a hotel to get more clientele. She has gone into town for some supplies. One of the hotel workers took her.

Check out the other tales here.

Scott bagged my items and we headed back to the truck.

As soon as we stowed the packages, Miguel said, “I need ice cream. Want some?”

“Why not? It’s been a long time since I treated myself to a cone.”

“It’s my treat today. Come on. You’ll love this place.”

Miguel was right. It was a cute, old-fashioned place that looked like it would have been right at home in a 1950s movie. Scuffed wooden floors with grooves worn in them where people had walked over the years. A long freezer counter with domed lids stretched the width of the store. Just a little gated area for ingress and egress for the employees to get from behind it to the front of the shop. Scattered in the front were several round iron tables with iron chairs for customers to sit and enjoy their ice cream.

We ventured forth to peer into the freezer to choose our poison. There were probably twenty cartons of different choices. One was a dark color. I tapped the glass. “What is that?”

The clerk said, “Black licorice.”

“Ugh, That doesn’t sound good, but it looks like some people like it since some scoops have obviously been dipped out.”

“No sense of adventure?” Miguel asked.

“Absolutely not in that regard.”  I moved down to look at the other choices. So many to contemplate. “Oooh. I don’t know what to pick.” I pointed at a familiar-looking option. “I always loved coffee ice cream as a kid and also this tart looking raspberry. I’m torn.”

“No need to fret. Get a scoop of each.” Miguel ordered rocky road for himself.

While the employee dipped Miguel’s, I said, “But those flavors don’t go together.”

“Eat one scoop at a time and drink water in between.” Miguel laughed. “You need to learn to relax. Thinking up reasons to stress isn’t good. If you like two flavors, get two.” He nodded to the clerk. “Give her both.”

When I received my cone and he’d paid, we walked back to the truck. As I got in, I said, “I can’t stay here long. If I hang out with you too much, I’ll be in trouble. Eating two scoops of ice cream.”

“Won’t hurt once in a while.” He licked his rocky road and inserted the key in the ignition. “Back to the hotel. Hold on.”