The Rag Princess

http://goindiebooks.com/406110/


The Rag Princess by Barbara Franzen
Developmental Edit-Ladette Randolph

A Nebraska Story Meet the Cast:

 Celeste Dusty- a twelve year old farm girl-

 Socialite Aunt Sylvie from Lincoln - emotionally abusive to Celeste

 Pastor Evan (pedophile in desguise) who likes Celeste  more than God-

Will Temple-the boy from Celeste's  past with whom she falls in love-

Travel about the farm and field and see the John Deere's and Allis Chambers and Fords

Witness the Great Depression and Recreation-Banner Country Church, with baseball games
Cake walks, Box Lunches and the Harvest Festival and Canteen for WW11 and the Ladie's Union Aid, a Cessna, Vintage Department Stores and Lincoln's Sunken Gardens and A Street and see Shridan Boulevard at Christmas or watch Celeste fix her first dinner for Will and watch their first Kiss as warm as summer breezes and as sparkling  as  the fourth of July-


Meet the fill in cast of colorful character-1930-40

Bev Temple who fixes a traditional country Thanksgiving feast

Perky Ginny -Celeste's best friend from childhood

Country school teacher and Miss Whippet city school teacher


Fly in a Cessna, fall in love-learn about the worst abuse and the process of healing and disclosing

Laugh cry weep and dream---The Rag Princess on the plains of Nebraska-by Barbara Franzen

Amazon.com  Kindle softback and hard back or see the Link

Grandma

   My Grandmother Stella, long dead, elicits the most wonderful memories. I can still see her when I knocked on her black screen door. Peeking through her window, I saw her inching her way slowly towards me, then opening the door, her  face broke into a big grin. "Oh for land sakes!" she'd say waving her hand through the air. The next thing I knew she was drawing my face close for a smooch. A shrunken lady, because of her camel back, she would say,"Come on in," while her eyes laughed, "ha ha ha"...
   Stepping inside her house, I would take note of her long plaid house dress and her long apron. It wasn't unusual to find her baking her oatmeal cookies, an aroma that filled her house like potpourri. And if she wasn't making cookies, she was working with rhubarb or pitting cherries out on her back porch there in her house, beside the park, at the top of Main Street in Gothenburg, Nebraska. A one time homesteader and the wife of a rancher, who helped build the Union Pacific, Grandma cooked for a hotel in Brady. Of course, that was when she was young. In fact, she was making the pastries the day my French Grandpa came over from the saloon side of the hotel to the bar side. By the time I met her she'd moved to town and had grown fairly old. She was in her eighties. 
    Among the best parts were her wild flower garden, the fact that she lived beside the park, and the cherry tree in her back yard. My sister and I would get up on ladders and pick cherries which she baked into bubbling pies. My other favorite time was evening. We would sit down and talk about what we wanted to watch. Sometimes it would be a detective show or a talk show. I  remember how much she enjoyed Lawrence Welk. Even if I didn't like the show, I liked it because I was with her, and she was contagiously good natured, and because she was as talkative as I was. We spent a great deal of time researching relatives in my search for someone famous. They were either English like her or French like Grandpa.
   Grandma kept wrapped candy beside the couch. They were those chocolates in colorful foil. She had a gas log fireplace and a wrought iron, miniature stove that looked like a toy. Among her pretties was the flower covered china clock painted by Aunt Poe. Around ten o'clock we would turn off the TV lamp on her television. Fifteen minutes later we'd be laying side by side, Grandma in her silk nighty. We'd talk for a bit and make plans for the next day. In no time,  I'd hear her snoring. As soft spring breezes blew in through her window,  I'd listen to the traffic go by on Main Street, knowing that tomorrow would be as sweet as today had been.