|
|
|  | | High Tide
High Tide, the second book in the trilogy, picks up days after the end of Kathryn's Beach. It chronicles the second year of Kathryn's return to L.A. With the past put to rest, Kathryn concentrates on the present. Kathryn's friends weave into the tapestry of her life. Kathryn discovers the real identity of her grandfather as they forge a relationship. She is melodramatic and her judgement is flawed in matters of love. Yet, her unwavering passion for social justice and her work with homeless families make her failings forgivable.
~ Chapter 1 ~
LAX: the Gateway of My Life
“Katey, when does Joseph return?” She asks softly just at the moment I lean closer to refill her coffee cup.
Straightening up, I answer smartly, seriously, “Nineteen days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes!”
“Really?!” She looks at me intensely. Obviously Karen hadn’t expected such a precise answer.
“No,” I admit casually, moving away to deposit the coffee pot on its burner. “It was a wild guess.”
The sincerity of the moment she had attempted is rapidly replaced by my widening grin. “I made it up!” T | |  | | Kathryn's Beach
KATHRYN'S BEACH is witty, sensitive, and refreshingly unpredictable contemporary fiction – a merging of chick lit and women’s literature – set primarily in prestigious Orange County, California.
Kathryn abruptly ends her self-imposed exile and returns to Los Angeles to reclaim the life she abandoned. It has been five years since her last child abuse investigation, which was a case that should have been a routine waltz through the Judicial System.
Her friend, Maggie, tells the emotionally bankrupt Kathryn, “It’s easier to run away and keep running, than to come home to face something you consider a failure– I think you have courage.”
Relationships and new clients weave into the tapestry of Kathryn’s life, expanding her reclusive world. Her friends push her to learn the meaning of the cryptic letter Judge Jones left for her hours before he committed suicide. Kathryn discovers more than the meaning to the letter.
Who says, “You can’t go home again?” Sometimes that’s exactly what must be done, but is it worth it?
Walking toward her, I whisper, "Coffee?" with a grin - relieved to see her. She hands me a cup, and we slip down the back stairs to our old spot on the patio where we can talk privately.
The sun is soft in the winter sky. A slight breeze moves the branches of the palm trees in the courtyard - it almost seems like the palms are waving a shy, "Welcome home, Katey." I feel content, as I sip the industrial-strength coffee.
It is especially good to see Maggie. Putting my cup down, I study her, watching for the Maggie I knew. "There!" I see something familiar in her eyes. Her green |
|
|
|
