The Red Hat Society's Queens of Woodlawn Avenue by Regina Hale Sutherland Read Free Book Online

tired of being
     the belle of the dumped housewives’ ball.
    I want to be the belle of the Cannon Ball.
That ridiculous, hopeless thought came out of nowhere, but it took hold and I couldn’t push it out of my head.
    “Ellie, I’m going to be honest with you.” Jane reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “I know it’s rough right
     now. But no white knight is going to come along and rescue you. If you want to change your life—no, if you just want to take
     your life back, then you’re going to have to be the one to do it. No one else is going to do it for you.”
    There it was. The plain, unvarnished truth. Laid out on my dining room table without fanfare.
    I looked around the room, at the cracks in the plaster and the scuffed hardwood floors badly in need of refin-ishing. My new
     surroundings couldn’t be more different than what I’d known for the last two decades. But Jane was right. No one—man, woman,
     or child—was going to come along and pluck me out of my hovel as if I were a princess in a fairy tale. If my life was going
     to get better, I had to make it that way.
    My throat was thick with tears, but I pushed the words past them. “A Web site? How much does that cost?” My watery smile threatened
     to slide off my face, but I kept it pasted on by sheer dint of will.
    Jane nodded approvingly. “Depends. Are any of your kids computer addicts?”
    “My son, Connor. But he’s away at college.”
    “That’s the beauty of the Internet,” Jane said. “Your Webmaster can be in New Guinea, for all it matters.”
    “I can ask him.” I leaned over to look at the other items on her list. “And my friend, Karen, her family owns a printing business.
     She might be able to get me a discount.”
    “Excellent.” Jane started making more notes. “As soon as you’re up and running, I’ll start spreading the word. You could have
     clients as soon as next week.”
    “Next week?” The thought seemed overwhelming.
    “Is that a problem?”
    “I guess not.” Since I had no idea if Jim’s alimony check would arrive at all, I couldn’t afford to dilly-dally.
    Dilly-dally.
Another of my mom’s favorite words. Well, she’d managed somehow all those years. Worked hard and kept me fed and clothed.
     There was no reason I couldn’t do the same.
    “What should I do first?” I asked Jane, and she was happy to spend the next few hours crafting a plan. We made up a price
     list, identified local publications where I might want to place ads, and set up an office in my second bedroom. By the time
     she left, I’d lost my resentment at being the latest project of the Queens of Woodlawn Avenue, and I’d gained a new appreciation
     for how compassionate other people could be.
    O kay, I’d let Linda talk me into taking my fight for a place on the planning committee of the Cannon Ball right to my old nemesis.
     And I’d been a willing participant in Jane’s incipient efforts to turn me into a businesswoman. But when Grace showed up on
     my doorstep the next morning, a garden spade in one hand and a bag of potting soil under her liver-spotted arm, I knew I had
     to draw the line.
    “Really, Grace, it’s not fair to inflict me on those poor plants.”
    Grace pointed the trowel at me and said, “There’s no such thing as a brown thumb. Besides, every clod of dirt you turn over
     only raises the value of your house.”
    Well, she certainly knew the one argument that might persuade me to start digging. The financial one.
    “I don’t know…”
    And I didn’t. I mean, how many projects could any semi-sane divorcee undertake at one time? I was going to have more than
     enough on my plate battling Roz Crowley and trying to launch my own business. I didn’t need to court certain disaster by trying
     to putter in the garden.
    On the other hand, I didn’t want to hurt Grace’s feelings. She was nice enough to try and help me, and how would she feel
     if I let Linda and Jane work their mojo on me but