Tuesday Tales: Writing Cup

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Today our word prompt is cup. The snippet is from a paranormal vintage romance set in the 1950s. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Hannah trudged up the steep stairwell toward the hotel’s exterior landing.  If she ignored them, maybe her shoulder muscles would stop screaming at her. Another day of scrubbing and moving furniture and she’d be ready for a week’s sleep. Not that she’d get it. The hotel had to be ready for opening by Halloween or Roscoe would be after her hide.

Between the metal bannister and wooden steps, a flash of magenta caught her eye in the tiny courtyard below. Refusing to make way for traditional autumn colors, a cluster of Blazing Star managed to hold its own among a patch of Florida sandspurs. Her lips twitched. Bold little flower. A lilt of breeze ruffled her hair and lent a spark of energy to her weariness. The air held a hint of briskness. She couldn’t wait until the first fall chill finally set in. It was always a bonus when it happened by the end of October. Another month. By then she’d have the whole place polished and shining, and ready for paying guests. Her father’s dream—her dream—would be well on its way to fruition.

“Mornin’, Miss Hannah.” Buster straightened up from a crouching position where he’d been pounding in nails. His rusty tones could scrape the barnacles off a ship’s hull.

“Good morning, Buster. You’re here bright and early. How’s the carpentry going?”

“Oh, it’s going. Another few days and this section will be done.”

“Where’s Spur? Inside?”

“Naw.” The older man looked down and grunted in displeasure. “Ole Spur’s in his cups, miss.”

Dismay surged over her, and she squeezed the bannister. “Not again. He was doing so well.”

“Yes’m he was, until last night. But he’s old and set in his ways and has been feeling a mite poorly, to boot. Then the demon grape called his name again. ”

Dratted cheap wine. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

“No ma’am. He’ll be down for a while I expect.”

“There’s so much to get done, Buster. Do you know of anyone who’d fill in here until he’s better?”

His eyes cast heavenward. “Not off hand. Let me think on it.”

Nodding absently, she made her way on into the foyer. The repair work needing to be done was more than a two man show. There was no way Buster could do it all by his lonesome. A ragged sigh wracked her body. What she needed was some sort of guardian angel. Unfortunately, she’d never believed in nonsense like that.

She gazed around, slightly puzzled at the faint scent of jasmine wafting through the room. Just then the antique lamp on the side table flicked off and on, and off and on. Hannah groaned. Please no. The electrician had sworn he’d gotten all the wiring up to speed. Her limited budget would only stretch so far.

I hope you enjoyed the beginning of Hannah’s story with the prompt cup. Thanks so much for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Romance