Chapter 1: Connie - A Deadly Dose of Disorder by Cindy Downes

Maybe I'll finish this book if I post the chapters on my blog in the order I write them. So, my Dear Readers, you are now going to get an unedited, preview of A Deadly Dose of Disorder, written by yours truly, Cindy Downes. There will be all kinds of errors and inconsistencies, but it will be fun. Let me know if you spot anything really crazy, especially inconsistencies- I need all the help I can get. I'll try to write and post a chapter a week? Every other week? Every month? Not sure. We'll just see how it goes. So, here's Chapter 1.

 Stacking groceries in my brand new rolling cart for stairs, I glance up at my apartment. No, it’s not much, but it’s home for now. The turquoise-blue paint is peeling and faded from the hot summer sun and salty sea air. The wood around the windows is slowly rotting from the moisture and island critters enjoying their lunch. The air condition sticking out the back window is rusted, but it does work.

My home, owned by Alec Thorne, sits behind a beautiful, historic mansion, also owned by Alec Thorne. He lives there as well. On the other side of a skinny, gravel-covered, trash-can-lined alley is another beautiful, historic home, which is also owned by Alec Thorne. This is why I call my home, “The Rose Between Two Thornes.” 

At least it’s a house instead of the tiny garage AirB&B I rented when I first arrived in Galveston a year ago. My new, or should I say, current home has one bedroom, a bath, a galley kitchen, a living room and a small area for dining. Downstairs is a laundry and some area for storage, which I use for my crafting room. 

I had to move from a beautiful, two-bedroom apartment I had rented near the beach to this place after placing Richard, my husband who has Alzheimer’s, into the Shady Rest Assisted Living Home. His condition had gotten to the point where even with at-home help, I could no longer safely take care of him. The cost of the nursing home came as quite a shock. It takes most of our income, so, to make ends meet, I moved into this very-run-down rental last year. It cut my rent by $600, so it’s worth it for now. My kids, Crystal and Cameron, help out as needed so I have no complaints. 

Dragging the heavy wheeled cart up the stairs is not easy even if this is supposed to be made for stairs. I had hoped to find a place without stairs, but that is almost impossible in Galveston. Most of the places are built with the idea that it will flood here off and on, so houses on stilts are the norm. 

As I struggle with the key to unlock the door, I hear Oreo barking and pacing behind the door. Oreo is my rescue dog - a Shizhu-Jack Russell mix. She’s the love of my life now that I’m alone. 

Oreo is twelve years old, but she acts like she’s five. She loves to take walks, chase squirrels, and play “Bed Pickle Ball.” While she stands on my bed, I stand at the foot of the bed and throw her ball against the wall behind the headboard. She jumps up, chases the ball as it bounces back to me, and tries to catch it. If she jumps up and hits it with her head and I say, “Yeah, a headbanger!” If she catches the ball, then we begin the chase around the house. She jumps off the bed, runs to the living room, around the sofa, through the galley kitchen, and back to the bedroom. I love that she gets so excited about a game, and it provides a bit of exercise for both of us.

I set my groceries on the dinette and pick Oreo up. “I’m home,” I say.