Tumbleweed (Crissy's Story)

By Marianne Dora Rose

"Hey, beautiful, whatcha up to?" Jarvis, her co-consultant on the TV series asked. He stood in front of her, tall and lean in his black suit and tie. His tie clip always matched his cufflinks. Today they were dark emerald stubs bordered in gold. No doubt, fourteen-carat gold, she thought. He could well afford them, alsong with his thin-black-rimmed progressive lensed glasses (unlined trifocals). The bridge of his nose wrinkled as it normally did whenever he tried to say something inoffensive yet humorous. He was only a couple of years older than she was, and they worked well as a team editing and revising the series scripts. "Sit down, already," Crissy wailed. "You're giving me a neck ache, staring up at you." He was a gentleman, she pondered, sighing. He never sat down beside her on the park bench, unless she invited him.
"Thank you," he said, bending, sitting, and adjusting his glasses to fit more snugly over the bridge of his nose. They had a habit of sliding a bit. He truly ought to have a talk with his optometrist. "So what brings you to the park today?" she asked. As if she didn't know. The whole office knew. Jarvis Elliston was infatuated with her. He'd never made a secret of it. He ignored the whispers and the gossip, or the knowledge that he was the last man in the world she'd consider falling in love with. She tolerated him. He was not a stalker, never tried to force his attentions on her. His whole attitude toward her was that he accepted his unworthiness for her affections, and was content just to have her work with him, talk with him when it suited her, and be there when she needed his advice or company. He was by no means unattractive, in an English gentleman sort of manner. Actually, his lineage was English, from London, and he was wealthy, heir to his parents' estate in England. He'd come to New York with his parents when he was a child. With dual citizenship and an alluring English accent that he'd never quite lost, there were women in the office that envied Crissy, and considered her a snob for not finding him a great catch. She didn't blame those women for their opinion of her. He was a good catch for some girl. He was a nice person, interesting and intelligent. But what could she do? She felt no spark, no desire, nothing. He was nice to talk with, nice to walk with, easy to work with, even fun to be with. Just not her cup of tea.
"You're rather quiet today," he said.
"Pensive, is the word," she said.
"Maybe, a bit sad," he added.
"A little," she admitted.
"Life not turning out the way you want it to?" he asked, his tone considerate.
She nodded, shrugging.
"What can I do to cheer you up?"
Someone who hadn't known him as she had these past two years, might find him intrusive and mistake his sincerity. Crissy couldn't help smiling.
"Ah, there it is," he said, grinning. "That lovely smile."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marianne Dora Rose
• Release date: Dec 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463575093

Marianne Dora Rose

About the AuthorDorothy Paula Freda, is also known under her pen names Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose. Herbooks range from Fiction and Non-fiction Adventure, Romance, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Poetry, Articles, Essays and How-to-Write Instructional complete with Lessons and optional assignments.Homemaker, mother of two grown sons, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, Paula was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'" Paula further states, "My stories are sensitive, deeply emotional, sensual when appropriate, yet non-graphic, family fare, pageturners. My hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit, bring a smile to your face and your soul, and leave you filled with a generous amount of hope."

Book preview

Tumbleweed

(Crissy's Story)

by

Marianne Dora Rose

Tumbleweed

(Crissy's Story)

by Dorothy P. Freda

(writing as Marianne Dora Rose)

© August 3, 2018 by Dorothy P. Freda

(Pseudonyms - Marianne Dora Rose aka Paula Freda)

Smashwords Edition

Bookcover photos Licensed

by Dorothy Paula Freda from iStockphoto, and Dreamstime

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Dedication

With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over the past 47 years kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

INTRODUCTION

At age twenty-four, slender, attractive, with silky dark brown hair that she needed no straightener to fall softly over her shoulders, she sat on the bench in Battery Park watching the ferries move across the bay, shuttling passengers between the New York boroughs.

Hey, beautiful, whatcha up to? Jarvis, her co-consultant on the TV series asked. He stood in front of her, tall and lean in his black suit and tie. His tie clip always matched his cufflinks. Today they were dark emerald stubs bordered in gold. No doubt, fourteen-carat gold, she thought. He could well afford them, along with his thin-black-rimmed progressive lensed glasses (unlined trifocals).

The bridge of his nose wrinkled as it normally did whenever he tried to say something inoffensive yet humorous. He was only a couple of years older than she was, and they worked well as a team editing and revising the series scripts. Sit down, already, Crissy wailed. You're giving me a neck ache, staring up at you.

He was a gentleman, she pondered, sighing. He never sat down beside her on the park bench, unless she invited him.

Thank you, he said, bending, sitting, and adjusting his glasses to fit more snugly over the bridge of his nose. They had a habit of sliding a bit. He truly ought to have a talk with his optometrist.

So what brings you to the park today? she asked. As if she didn't know. The whole office knew. Jarvis Elliston was infatuated with her. He'd never made a secret of it. He ignored the whispers and the gossip, or the knowledge that he was the last man in the world she'd consider falling in love with. She tolerated him. He was not a stalker, never tried to force his attentions on her. His whole attitude toward her was that he accepted his unworthiness for her affections, and was content just to have her work with him, talk with him when it suited her, and be there when she needed his advice or company.

He was by no means unattractive, in an English gentleman sort of manner. Actually, his lineage was English, from London, and he was wealthy, heir to his parents' estate in England. He'd come to New York with his parents when he was a child. With dual citizenship and an alluring English accent that he'd never quite lost, there were women in the office that envied Crissy, and considered her a snob for not finding him a great catch.

She didn't blame those women for their opinion of her. He was a good catch for some girl. He was a nice person, interesting and intelligent. But what could she do? She felt no spark, no desire, nothing. He was nice to talk with, nice to walk with, easy to work with, even fun to be with. Just not her cup of tea.

You're rather quiet today, he said.

Pensive, is the word, she said.

Maybe, a bit sad, he added.

A little, she admitted.

Life not turning out the way you want it to? he asked, his tone considerate.

She nodded, shrugging.

What can I do to cheer you up?

Someone who hadn't known him as she had these past two years, might find him intrusive and mistake his sincerity. Crissy couldn't help smiling.

Ah, there it is, he said, grinning. That lovely smile.

Tumbleweed

(Crissy's Story)

by

Marianne Dora Rose

CHAPTER ONE

Crissy was baptized Cassandra Maria Albertson. Marge and Sam Albertson were traditionalists; they named her after her aunt on her mother's side. Mom didn't like the nickname Cassy because during her high school years, a schoolmate nicknamed Cassy, had teased and tormented her because of her weight, 165 pounds at the age of thirteen, not attractive or healthy for a 5-foot girl. She slowly slimmed to 135 pounds and by the time she graduated high school and met, fell in love with, and married the love of her life, Sam, nature had added 3 inches to her height. Just right, she always praised, for his 5' 10".

Sam was an easy-going, kind, gentle man. He loved his wife and family and had no problem understanding Marge's reasons for disliking