Whispers in Purple: The Story Behind Entrusted ~ Julie Arduini

Welcome to the 'Everything Old is New Again' feature here on Whispers in Purple. Today's guest blogger is author Julie Arduini, who shares some background into the writing of her book ENTRUSTED, including an excerpt from Chapter One. Enjoy!

The Adirondacks - image from Paxabay.com

Entrusted is my first “baby,” and I think back on this book with so much love. It took over two decades to write, mostly because I had to surrender the fear I had about writing for the public. However, it was in 1994 when I first visited Speculator, New York in the Adirondack Mountains that the idea for a story came to mind.

The real Speculator is a rural place where there are no stop lights in the county. It’s a mountain town where everyone knows each other, and they help each other out. As I walked past the businesses and viewed the mountains surrounding me, I got thinking. What would happen if someone new moved to town to make changes? What if they were from the city?

Once I started writing, there were several re-writes. Once I started writing with the goal to have it published, the story centered on Jenna Anderson, a city-girl from Youngstown, Ohio who moved to Speculator Falls after one phone interview. She’s the new senior center director and she has a lot of ideas to bring the once-closed building back to life so the members can thrive. Ben Regan is the town grocer and councilman. He lost his grandfather and his ex-girlfriend left town without saying goodbye. Ben hates loss and change, so he decides to shut down. He started with closing the senior center. Once he hears Jenna’s moved to town, he doesn’t want the center open. The two clash, but as they are thrown together for various community projects, they form a friendship. However, Jenna’s desire to belong and Ben’s goal to stop change threaten them.

It's the first of three romances in my Surrendering Time series. They’re all available on Amazon, and Entrusted is a free e-Book for those who subscribe to my free newsletter.

About Entrusted:

Jenna Anderson leaves her Ohio hometown for the unknown in Speculator Falls. She's determined to make her new job as senior center work and become one of the locals.

Ben Regan's family is the backbone of Speculator Falls and he's made a vow to protect the rural village. When his grandfather passes away and his former girlfriend leaves without even saying goodbye, Ben's determined to prevent further transition in his life.

But Jenna produces a lot of change for Ben in a book about surrendering the present fears we have about change and wanting to belong.

Entrusted Excerpt

Chapter One

Less than five minutes inside Speculator Falls village limits and the whirl of police lights invade my rearview mirror. Great. Just how I wanted to start my new life—with law enforcement tapping on my driver window. I push the button and form a strategy as the glass partition disappears.

“Officer, it’s not my fault.” My stubby index finger points to the GPS on the dashboard. “The GPS made me do it.”

The woman with sunglasses and a ponytail eyes the interior of my Chevy Cobalt and then rests her stare on me. “I’m not an officer. I’m the sheriff. Did that flower box do something to make you crash into it and split it into pieces?”

I attempt to hand my license and registration to the good sheriff.

She blocks my hand and shakes her head before pushing the documents back my way. “Oh, I know who you are.”

Is that a smirk?

“So, Ohio. GPS devices don’t work well in the Adirondacks. It’s too rural to pick up a signal. Even so, your attention needs to be on the road. You just reached Speculator Falls, and I’m already on the scene for property damage.”

I’m pretty sure she’s trying to hide a grin.

We both turn our gazes to the flower box ruins on Route 8. Purple and yellow pansy remnants scatter past the debris. I’m thankful that’s all I hit.

Glancing over to the shiny badge that reads C. Rowling, her attempts to be tough appear as successful as my goal to arrive looking like I belong. Instead the sheriff gets a messy glimpse of the truth—I’m a city girl without a clue how to navigate the mountains.

“I’m sorry, I feel awful about this. My name is—”

She surrenders to a full smile, takes the sunglasses off, and faces me. “Jenna Anderson from Youngstown, Ohio. Sara Bivins told me you were moving here today.”

My shoulders relax, I’m pretty sure this woman in a bland uniform isn’t going to haul me off to jail over the cracked flower box. “That’s me, new girl ready to put roots down in Speculator Falls—”

A black four-by four-truck squeals into place next to the squad car. A door slams and within seconds a well-built man who looks about thirty jogs from his truck to us. Half a minute later my car has the whiff of woodsy cologne that follows him.

“Carla, Howard Wheaton told me someone plowed through my grandfather’s handiwork. I presume this is your perpetrator?” He commandeers our conversation. His face is so red it resembles my Ohio State sweatshirt.

The sheriff pivots to the angry but tantalizing smelling man. “Hello, Ben. The situation is under control.” He almost loses his fading New York Giants baseball cap before he finally stands still. He has enough beard stubble to cover a chin dimple, but not enough to hide a bobbing Adam’s apple. “Really? Because this mess of flowers says otherwise.”

She hesitates. “Ben, this is Jenna Anderson, the new senior center director. She lost control while she tried to figure out what was going on with her GPS. I looked at the box, and I think it’s repairable. You love doing that sort of thing, so how about you fix it?”

Thank you, Sheriff Carla Rowling.

I can’t help it, but I smile. I think this woman might be my first new friend.

Ben whips off the hat and twists it until his knuckles bulge. “I’m sorry, destroying property is funny to you?”

I want to say something brilliant. More than eight hours on the road leaves me a little lost, GPS ineffectiveness aside. “At least I hit his box. Not him.”

His Adam’s apple movement seems to escalate. “My grandpa is dead.” He points the hat at me to emphasize each word. “You better hope this box isn’t.” He turns back to the sheriff. “Carla, I’ll repair it.” Then, directs his milk chocolate colored eyes toward me. “You, city girl, watch where you’re going. The people who belong here don’t need a GPS.” He pivots in his tattered sneakers and heads to the injured flower box. As fast as he comes on the scene, he leaves.

Carla offers her hand. “Welcome to Speculator Falls.”