To lovely young Nicola, whose engagement announcement kicks off my novel, “That Summer,” life offers a world of opportunities.
Her mother, Cate, gets more like a hemisphere.
But a woman at 50 has already rejected a continent of choices. Olympic diving? No. Translating “King Lear” into Elvish? No. Letting her only daughter get married and move away without strenuous protest? The moving-away part really hurts: Cate gave a baby boy up
for adoption when she was 17. She can’t let her girl go.
Anna, a widowed graphic designer, would love to be the bride. Her groom candidates come to include a passionate high school crush, a travel agent who gives erotic foot massages and the bright-eyed young editor who wants to publish the comic book she’s drawing as a
Lindy, who teaches math, thinks men are like the cars in the Detroit Grand Prix. There’s always another coming around the corner, and it’s just as well that they go by so quickly. Her heart belongs to Chopin. She’s composing an etude she might – or might not – have the nerve to enter in a major piano competition.
(your hook starts here)
Women at 50 have full lives, with careers and family and maybe a little romance, but friends don’t let friends throw themselves between a daughter and the altar. Anna and Lindy have three months to persuade Cate that the wedding is not the end of the world and
middle age is no time to stop exploring her options – or herself.
Lose all that character description blather and tell us what happens.