About the Author: Linda Rettstatt is an award-winning and bestselling author of women’s fiction, romance (contemporary and seasoned), suspense, regional historical fiction, and light paranormal fiction. Two of her novels—Love, Sam and Ladies in Waiting—won the prestigious EPIC eBook Awards. She will celebrate the publication of her 50th novel—a work of women’s fiction—in August, 2024. Rettstatt grew up in Brownsville, PA. In 2021, she retired from social work in Mississippi and returned to the Pittsburgh area where she continues to write and to offer services as an editor and writing consultant.
Author Site From the Publisher: “A Well-Imagined Life is a work of women’s fiction, taking Linda Rettstatt back to the roots of her writing while also incorporating a touch of seasoned romance. When her life takes a tragic turn, Bethany Lundstrom loses everything that matters to her. At least she believes so until her estranged niece shows up on her doorstep. Beth is forced to take a second look at her life—especially the missing parts.”
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The weather on the Maine coast had temperaments—one day the sun shone, and soft breezes barely ruffled the waters of Penobscot Bay, leaving the rocky beach exposed. Any other day, the wind might howl and send waves crashing in wild spray over those same rocks. It seemed a fitting metaphor for Bethany Lundstrom’s life.
She riffled through the stack of envelopes Jax had delivered earlier with her groceries. Two bills, a bulky envelope from her agent holding fan mail, and her royalty statement. She glanced at the statement first, noticing the deposit to her bank account. Her first effort at a full-length book was doing quite well. She had written for several notable travel magazines, but this had been her first full book that included photos of her travels. It amazed her that her travel book and magazine articles continued to garner accolades and income, considering she had barely left her cottage in almost three years.
She sighed and pushed up to her feet, shrugging off the guilt that washed over her. If she allowed herself, she’d be overtaken by a major case of imposter syndrome. Perhaps it was deserved, though, in her case. She was pretending to be the woman she used to be. She sat at the desk in her office and stared at the blank computer screen.
The slam of a car door grabbed Bethany’s attention. Had Jax forgotten something? Then came a knock. She waited. Jax would knock, then open the door and call to her. After a few beats came a more insistent knock.
She’d already shed the bulky knee brace her doctor had prescribed. Her knee complained, so she reached for her cane and made her way to the door. She’d been having a particularly painful day. She was only forty-two, but this was one of those days when she felt twice her age. She opened the door to find a young woman on her front porch.
“Are you Bethany Lundstrom?”
“I guess you missed the no trespassing and no soliciting signs posted everywhere,” Bethany said in annoyance. There was a reason she lived in a secluded cottage far off the beaten path.
The girl sucked in her bottom lip and blinked as if fighting back tears. She swallowed hard. Her voice trembled as she asked again, “Are you Bethany Lundstrom?”
A brief flicker of recognition flitted through Bethany’s awareness. “Who are you?”
“I—I’m your niece.”
Bethany stared at the girl’s face. She could see glimpses of her younger sister there—the blond hair and fair skin of their father’s Swedish heritage. Bethany had her mother’s darker Italian coloring. Still, she shook her head. “I think you’re mistaken.”
The girl was quick to insert her sneakered foot into the open door. She drew herself up with resolve and jutted out her chin—the way Sydney used to do. “You’re Bethany Lundstrom. Your parents were Angeline and Edward Lundstrom. Your sister, my mother, is…was Sydney Lundstrom Gilpin. You grew up in Charleston, South Carolina. You and my mother have not spoken in seventeen years. You had a tragic mountain climbing accident, and your fiancé, Sean Callahan, was killed. You became a recluse but continued writing, though God only knows how. Now, do I have the right person?”
Bethany took a breath along with the young woman who had rattled off the information like an auctioneer. The girl wore the same determined look Bethany had seen on her sister’s face.
Shifting on her feet, the girl asked, “May I use your bathroom? I drank coffee across five states today to get here before dark.”
Bethany pulled the door open further and pointed to the hallway beyond the living room. “Back there on the left.”
When the girl returned, Bethany asked, “How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t that hard. You’d be surprised what you can find on the internet if you know how to search.”
No, Bethany thought, I wouldn’t be at all surprised. “So, you’re Charlotte. Last time I saw you, you were a toddler with a terrible temper and the cutest smile.” The memory shook something loose inside Bethany.
“Yes, but Mom called me Charlie. For the record, I can still summon up a temper tantrum. And sometimes I even smile.”
Bethany’s heart clutched. “You referred to your mother in past tense. Did something happen to Sydney?”
The girl drew in a shuddering breath. “Mom died three months ago.”
Stunned, Bethany blinked. “What? How?”
“Ovarian cancer. You should probably get tested for the gene. I have, and I’m clear.”
Bethany had a falling out with her sister the last time she saw her seventeen years earlier. Both of their parents were deceased by that time. The already-shattered family disintegrated. Neither had reached out to mend the rift. Now it was too late. For the past three years, Bethany had lived vicariously through her research to continue to travel and ‘see’ the world through her twenty-two-inch computer screen, her extensive collection of old photographs, and her memories. She adhered to two rules—one, never write about a place she had not visited personally and two, never rely on artificial intelligence or the work of others.
Her niece looked around the cottage. “You live here all the time? Alone? But you write so beautifully about the amazing places you visit. Mom and I followed you through your articles.”
Bethany shook her head. “Visited.” She lifted her cane and nodded to her leg. “Not anymore. I don’t often leave this house much unless I have a reason to.” She shifted her gaze away from her niece and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “And I do not have guests, so I suggest you return to the highway and find a hotel room before dark, then head home.”
The girl’s eyes filled. “I—I don’t have a home.” She sniffled. “But I’ll get out of your way.”
Bethany’s heart cracked. This was her niece. Her only living family. And she didn’t deserve her aunt’s misdirected anger borne of guilt. “Where did you live?”
“Mom and I moved around a lot. She had—issues.”
“What kind of issues?”
“The alcohol, occasionally a man…. She just couldn’t cope on her own.”
“Oh, Charlie. I’m so sorry.”
The girl shrugged. “Wasn’t your fault. She and my father divorced when I was five years old. He walked out and never looked back. Mom kind of fell apart then, had trouble holding a job and keeping a roof over our heads. We were living in Atlanta when she got sick. It was fast.” Tears misted her eyes. “Four and a half months, and she was gone. It was awful.” She cleared her throat, then straightened. “I have one suitcase, her old car, a box of photos and papers, and three hundred dollars in cash.”
“Why did you wait to contact me?”
“Seriously? You’re the one who disappeared. You clearly did not want to be found. You still don’t. But when I went through Mom’s papers and photos she’d saved, I found newspaper articles about you. I saw pictures of the two of you when you were kids. You looked like you were close.”
“We were.” Bethany’s mouth went dry. “That was a long time ago. And, for the record, I tried to reach out to Syd a few times, but my letters came back as undeliverable.” Bethany leaned on her cane, then turned and stared out the window. The darkened silhouette of the rocky coastline usually soothed her. But now her insides fluttered, troubled and out of sync with the calm waters of the bay. The loss of her only sister. The heartbreaking story of her niece’s life. And now, this intrusion into her well-controlled existence. It didn’t take a shrink to figure out the significance of her choice of living along the coast, given the way Sean’s life had ended. The loss had broken her.
This excerpt is published here courtesy of the author and should not be reprinted without permission.
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