I did another mitzvah today, accompanying Arlynn to the doctor. She had a little scare when her surgical wound turned into a lump. It's just a natural build up of fluid. She was in and out in minutes, and I got a free lunch of shrimp, fries and Snapple out of it. As we were driving, she related how tight her ex-husband was with money, although he had plenty of it. He wouldn't contribute to their son's Bar Mitzvah party. He didn't even attend. He simply gave Arlynn a check for $500, $344 of which he owed her and that she was supposed to deduct from it. She never told Jaime. The guy didn't show any love to the kid, who was adopted. Jaime's heritage is Colombian, which surprises me, as he doesn't look it. He's a good kid, no thanks to his father, serving his country as a security officer in the Coast Guard. Arlynn doesn't know what happened to Irwin's money when he died, and she doesn't care. She assumes his girlfriend got it. Some people....
Well, Arlynn was right about the luck I was due. I was beginning to think I'd never sell another of my own books, and suddenly along came James, an English teacher at Kingsborough Community College, who purchased Close to the Edge and A Hitch in Twilight. Thank you, sir. And thanks to the large, silver-bearded man who bought Stuart Woods' Dark Harbor and asked for recommendations on two others. I selected one each by Patricia Cornwell and Robert Tennebaum. "Are you sure?" he said, rather harshly. I couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. I've sampled both authors and found them no different than others. As I've said before, the thriller genre is the most over-worked. The novels have such a sameness to them.
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