Authors: Suzanne Supplee
Artichoke's Heart (15 page)
I reached across the seat for Mother’s small hand. This was probably the most personal information she’d ever divulged, at least to me anyway. The wind blew stray pieces of hair into my face, and it stuck to my lip gloss. I peeled it off, only to have it blow back and get stuck again.
“What was it, Rosie? What was it that finally made you lose the weight?” she asked.
I thought for a minute, but it was tough to come up with just one answer. “I guess Mrs. McCutchin started it with that plate full of Christmas cookies that day in the shop. Everybody was standing there staring at me, and I got so mad. And then you wouldn’t leave me alone about that stupid treadmill.” Mother grinned, and I could tell it made her feel good to be part of my success.
We drove for a while longer, and I wondered where I’d be when the holidays rolled around again. I hoped I’d be at my goal weight by then. I hoped Mother’s cancer would be in remission. I hoped Kyle would still love me and Kay-Kay would continue to be my friend. I hoped Drew and Richard would stay together, and Miss Bertha would see more of her family, and Aunt Mary would find a boyfriend. I hoped the Bluebirds would migrate. It was an endless list, these things I hoped for. I thought back to the Emily Dickinson poem I’d read so many months ago—the one about hope.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all . . .
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all . . .
More than anything, I hoped the last line was true.
acknowledgments
First and foremost, I have to thank my kind friend and generous mentor, Margaret Meacham, for giving this book to her agent (now my agent, as well) in spite of my protests, and for reading it and being completely honest. Many thanks to Ann Tobias, my guardian agent, for taking so much time with the early drafts of
Artichoke’s Heart
, for making me work harder, for challenging me and questioning everything, and then for sending it to the
perfect
editor, Julie Strauss-Gabel. Right from the beginning, Julie understood Rosemary and the story I wanted to tell. Julie guided but never pressed. She encouraged but was never critical, and all the while, she convinced me that I really could do this.
Artichoke’s Heart
, for making me work harder, for challenging me and questioning everything, and then for sending it to the
perfect
editor, Julie Strauss-Gabel. Right from the beginning, Julie understood Rosemary and the story I wanted to tell. Julie guided but never pressed. She encouraged but was never critical, and all the while, she convinced me that I really could do this.
Along the way there have been exceptional teachers and friends who have in some way, large or small, influenced my writing: Sue Murphy, Harriet Eddlemon, Paige Chamberlain, Joel Glasser, Brooke Blough, Margaret Benner, George Friedman, Scott Allen, Charlotte Locklear, Joy Nelson, and Mary Rozell. Many thanks to John Bradley at Hewitt’s Garden and Design in Nashville for his expert advice on Southern gardens. Thanks also to the friends who’ve offered invaluable support: Anne, Bev, Bonnie, Brem, Diane, Ellen, James, Jamie, Jen, Karyn-Mina, Ken, Kirk, Margaret, Mary-Carroll, Pete, Robin, Stacey, and Tamra.
Special thanks also to my two favorite hairdressers—Sue Ebert and Jill Ruhlman.
Last, but obviously not least, I have to thank my incredible family. Scott, you’ve been beyond generous with your support and love during this process. Cassie, you’ve endured years of proofreading, and you’d make a great editor yourself one day. Flannery and Elsbeth, you both continue to bring so much joy and energy to my life.
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