Monday, August 6, 2012
Bragging Rights by Lucy Burdette
By Janet Snow, proud mother of Hayley Snow from Lucy Burdette's Key West food critic mysteries
I hate to brag, but sometimes, when it comes to my daughter Hayley, I just can't help it. So excuse me while I tell you that the next book my daughter stars in, DEATH IN FOUR COURSES, has gotten an excellent review from Publishers Weekly. Not only did they call it a "yummy sequel," they said: "Anyone who's ever overpaid for a pretentious restaurant meal will relish this witty cozy."
Isn't that fun? I also can't resist mentioning that I was mentioned in the review. Me, Janet Snow, divorced housewife, famous for nothing. Creator of nothing except for the most perfect daughter on earth! Lucky me, Hayley invited me down to Key West for the Key West Loves Literature conference which this year was all about food writing. Here's what the review said: "Outspoken Mom provides tart commentary as Hayley once again turns sleuth."
I'm blushing...Anyway, I've convinced Lucy to post a little bit more from the book. This is the scene in which I arrive in Key West--and sweet Hayley picks me up at the airport--in a taxi with a live-aboard parrot:
"Like most things in the city, the Key West airport was easy to maneuver. The taxi driver let me out and pointed to the small parking lot where he and his parrot would be waiting. I went inside and parked myself near the baggage claim, flipping through the displays of tourism pamphlets racked against the back wall. Minutes later, the puddle-jumper from Miami skidded to a halt and the passengers poured out and filed across the tarmac, their boots and wool jackets contrasting with the short sleeves and flip-flops of the people waiting. Mom burst through the sliding glass doors, wearing enormous sunglasses and dragging a pink plaid bag.
“Hayley Elizabeth!” she squealed, flinging her arms around me. “I can’t believe I’m here! It was so stunning flying over the islands.”
“My girl.” She held me at arm’s length to get a good look. "You gorgeous thing.” She smiled until the skin crinkled around her eyes, and patted my curls—the same auburn as hers only messier—and then stashed her glasses in her purse. “Which way to the ladies? Will you keep track of this while I run in?” She passed the carry-on to me. “The big bag looks just like this one. A matching set—like you and me.”
She grinned and click-clacked across the room in her smart silver sandals and wrinkle-free pantsuit. Light years from my palm tree shirt and red sneakers, which I knew she’d noticed.
Once we’d wrestled her enormous bag off the luggage carousel, we rolled it out to the cab where I introduced her to the driver and his pet bird. He hoisted the bags into the trunk and we set off.
“Excuse me, cabbie,” Mom said, once the car was in motion. “I just arrived from New Jersey. Would you mind turning off the air conditioning and opening the windows?” Once he complied, she leaned out and snapped a succession of photos. “Hayley, can you smell that salt air? Did you tell me how pretty it was here?”
I grinned back at her. “I think I did, Mom.”