Page 110 of The Nanny and the Nerd
The woman leaned forward. “Instead of focusing on what you haven’t done. Focus on where you are.”
“And where is that?” Penny asked with a self-deprecating laugh, half-kidding, half-serious. But Delores didn’t look amused. In fact, the lines around the woman’s eyes deepened.
“You’re finding your voice, Penny. There’s no shame in that, dear. In fact, it’s essential.”
“Penelope’s been working on the narrative for AI-77. She’s transformed it,” Rowen offered, taking her hand.
“So, you are writing?” Delores remarked, wineglass in hand as she reclined into the chair.
“Yes, but not in the traditional sense.”
“And do you enjoy it?” the woman asked before taking a sip.
“I do. I’ve loved every minute of it.” Penny glanced at Rowen. She recalled the day she crept up the stairs to the second floor of the Gale Gaming building and found herself standing in front of the AI-77 storyboard. The day she could barely write fast enough to capture her ideas.
“I can see it in your eyes, dear,” Delores remarked, sharing a look with Auguste.
“But I always dreamed of writing a book—a physical book. Something my mother would see and be…” She paused as a knot formed in her belly.
“Proud?” Delores offered.
Penny nodded as emotion thickened in her throat. “Something like that,” she rasped.
“Can I offer you a piece of advice,” Delores asked gently.
HELL YES!
If Delores Lambert DuBois told her to write while only wearing galoshes, she’d book it to the nearest shoe store. No! She had to hold it together. Taking a cleansing breath, she pushed the crazy rain boots idea from her head.Slow down. Do not act as if your next stop is a psychiatric evaluation.
Penny gave the woman her best I’m-not-insane smile. “Yes, I’d appreciate that greatly.”
“When I started believing in myself, I started writing for myself. That’s where it begins, dear—with you. It begins here.” She tapped her temple. “And then, it lives here,” she finished, pressing her hand to her heart.
“And love! Don’t forget that,mon coeur,” Auguste added, taking Delores’s hand.
Auguste leaned in with a conspiratorial expression. “You see, I am Delores’s secret weapon.”
“Oh! Stop, you old Frenchman!” the woman exclaimed playfully.
“It’s true,” the man said, grinning ear to ear. “Tell the young couple.”
“Can I trust you to keep this secret?” Delores asked, lowering her voice.
Penny’s heart leaped into her throat. A secret about Delores Lambert DuBois!
“Of course,” she answered, working to keep her cool.
Delores nodded, then relaxed into her chair. Her expression grew nostalgic as she traced the rim of her wineglass with her index finger. “I was in my early twenties when I came to St. Barts with another man.”
“But I stole her away with my charm and good looks,” Auguste interjected.
Delores frowned, but her sparkling eyes told a different story. “You’re jumping ahead and ruining the story,” she chided teasingly before her expression grew wistful. “Like you, Penny, my mother was mortified when I told her I wanted to become a writer. That judgment colored my view of myself and the world.”
Penny shared a look with Rowen. She knew a thing or two about that.
“Back when I went to college,” Delores continued, “a woman’s purpose wasn’t to pursue academic accolades.”
“She was supposed to land a husband,” Auguste chimed in.
