On the last day of our first summer together, as we lay beneath the chandelier with our entire lives spread out in front of us, Rudy turned to me, her eyes sparkling with the reflection of the crystals. She reached for my limp hand and wove her warm fingers through mine.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” She said it solemnly. Seriously – like an oath.
Before I could respond, she was bounding to her feet, her bare toes slapping the cold floor as she ran through the house and dove into the pool, leaving me disoriented and alone as I watched her from the foyer.
“You’re my best friend, too!” I called after her, but she didn’t hear me, her head engulfed in the wake of her splash, her hair a cape flowing out from behind her. She was smiling, the little squares of her teeth white behind a delicate waterfall. She was always smiling – maybe I imagined that part. But on that day, she was her best – the purest form of beauty, a diamond excavated from the dark depths of the Earth, cleaned and shined and put under the bright display lights for everyone in the world to see.
And in my mind she’s always going to live, forever, that perfect, shining, innocent girl.
Rudy.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my parents, for the use of their typewriter when I wrote my first book in elementary school, for their blessing when I decided to forgo Journalism and instead pursue a degree in Creative Writing and for their never-ending love and support in all aspects of my life for the last thirty years.
To all my wonderful friends, who have read early drafts and been sounding boards for story ideas. To Mallory Parsons, who did an amazing job as my cover designer. And to Reid and Danielle Garcia - without you both and our summer trip to Zion Canyon, I’m convinced this book would still be a draft right now.
To my forever favorite aunt, Laura Maxwell, who edited my words and has always made me believe I’m capable of anything.
To my kids, who are my heart and my motivation. I hope that years from now when you’re actually able to read, you’ll be as proud of your mom “the writer” as I am of everything you do.
And to my husband, Ryan, who has watched our babies while I worked, encouraged every wild dream I’ve ever chased and treated my writing as if it were as important as the work he does day in and day out. You are the best and none of my dreams would be the same without you by my side.
About the Author
Andrea Dickherber was born and raised in Missouri, graduating with honors from the University of Missouri with a degree in English. She considers herself a road trip addict, an amateur home improver, a sort of runner and drink of all the coffees. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Ryan, and her children, Knox, Quinn and Rooney. Golden is her first novel.
Find her online at her website www.sincerelya.com or on Instagram.
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