Seven Year Switch (2010) (21 page)

“
GREAT GIRLFRIEND GETAWAYS
,”
CYNTHIA SAID
. “
FEISTY
and fabulous mantasy escapes both close to home and all over the world. When was the last time you got together with
your
girlfriends?”

I managed to nudge my car door shut with my hips without losing either my cell phone or my Lunch Around the World supplies.

“It's man-free, not mantasy,” I said.

“Oh, hey, girlfriend. It's a cross between
man
and
fantasy
. I've been trying it out, and I think it works. I'll bring it up to Joni at the next staff meeting.”

“We don't have staff meetings. And don't you dare suggest starting them. Listen, can you get Anastasia off the bus for me? Billy's leaving for Japan today….”

“Of course. Good plan—you should definitely spend some time with him to make up for all the bad things your husband is about to tell him about you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You're a real confidence builder.”

“I try. Oh, wait, a real call is coming through.”

I dropped my cell into my shoulder bag and hiked the shopping bags up a little higher so they didn't slip out of my hands.

I made it to the kitchen counter without dropping a thing. I laid out the ingredients to make a
boca
feast fit for a
Tico
—tortillas, tamales, even plaintain chips.

Then I arranged the feathers and paint and brushes. I put the framed feather Anastasia had painted with hummingbirds, frogs, and flowers in the center for inspiration.

When I pulled out the hip scarves, the tinkling coins made one of the world's most pleasing sounds. Joni and Cynthia had loaned me theirs, too, so everybody would be able to take a turn. I'd stopped by the library on my way and had scored not one, but two belly dancing CDs, and I couldn't wait to check them out.

I was all set up and ready to go by the time my class arrived.

“Welcome back, honey,” Ethel said. She was wearing a bright red sweat suit today with lipstick to match. “How was Costa Rica? Everything you dreamed it would be?”

“And more,” I said.

T-Shirt Tom was the last to arrive. “I bet I know where we're going for lunch today-ay,” he said. His shirt said save the males.

I pointed to my own T-Shirt.

“The direct translation of
pura vida
is ‘pure life,'” I began, “but
pura vida
can also mean everything from ‘you're good people' to ‘the good life to you' or ‘to life.'
Pura vida
may have originated in Costa Rica, but more than anything, it's a state of mind.”

I smiled. “And I am so there.”

First and foremost, a zillion thanks to you, my readers. Whenever you take time out of your busy lives to read one of my novels, send it to your sister on her birthday, tell a friend you liked it (and make her buy her own copy!) you breathe life into my next book. On this most basic, sustaining level, without you I wouldn't be having the best midlife career switch ever, and I appreciate your support, especially in this crazy world and tough economy, more than I can say.

But wait, there's more. I think reader response is so important that it sometimes feels as if I don't completely know what I've written until you tell me what you've read. Your messages and reviews lift me up and keep me on track. You get it, you really get it! Thank you.

Many, many thanks to my fabulous bookseller, librarian, journalist, and blogger friends and supporters—I appreciate you truly, madly, deeply.

While I was writing this novel, a small group of women generously shared buried pieces of their past with me. Your stories helped me find the heart of this book, and I'm so thankful for them. And, as promised, your secrets are my secrets!

Thank you to the kind people of San José and Tamarindo for help along the way, as well as to Charlotte Phinney, Maria Sanchez, and Anna Holmes. Thanks to Ken Harvey for another caring, insightful read.

Heartfelt thanks to Tammy Orrell for never missing one of my book events within a hundred miles' drive. It was an honor to be your favorite author. Rest in peace, Tammy, and thank you, Jessica, for letting me know.

I thank my lucky stars for the wonderful women (and a few good men) at Hyperion/Voice. When you shine your collective brilliance on my books, you light up my world. Thanks for focusing so much attention on this grateful woman's voice. Thanks, thanks, and more thanks to my wonderful editor, Brenda Copeland, her terrific assistant, Kate Griffin, and to the rest of the talented Hyperionites: Ellen Archer, Barbara Jones, Mindy Stockfield, Sarah Rucker, Marie Coolman, Allison McGeehon, Katherine Tasheff, Maha Khalil, Mike Rotondo, Joan Lee, Claire McKean, Laura Klynstra, Lindsay Mergens, Shelley Perron, Shubhani Sarkar, and Karen Minster. Thank you to the HarperCollins sales force for your support—with an extra shout-out to Donna Waitkus and a special thanks to Andrea Rosen and her team for inspiring a scene in this book at our meeting!

Lisa Bankoff's support is always above and beyond, and I'm more thankful with each and every book. A huge thank you to ICM's unflappable agent-to-be Elizabeth Perrella, to the wonderful Josie Freedman, and to magazine maven Alison Schwartz. Many thanks to Helen Manders and Curtis Brown Group for their foreign rights enthusiasm.

Mega thanks and much love to Jake, Kaden, and Garet for stepping up whenever I need it. You're simply the best.