by Sally Koslow
I cannot stop looking at my daughters, whose long girlhoods are ending. Luey is earning A’s in both motherhood and economics. Nicola has found a vocation and love, possibly; I hear a lot of Michael this and Michael that—he’s been promoted and outgrown his T—and as for the chef in Paris, I’ve forgotten his name and hope Cola has, too. Michael is hoping for an internship in New York, because my daughter insists she’s here to stay. She, too, has a business to grow.
Benjy, where did we go right?
We let Theo pull the netting off the headstone, and one by one we each put a pebble on the grave and whisper private good-byes. I don’t forgive Ben. Perhaps I never will. But a woman is fortunate if her dreams overlap even slightly with her reality. I thank my husband for the many years mine did.
I have taught myself how to transplant a new branch onto an old one. I am that branch and I am thriving. The last year has begun to turn into rich compost that nourishes new dreams. Autumn’s first leaves are falling, golden priority mail reminding us of beauty, even in death. Mother Nature and Father Time have such a bag of tricks.
I link arms with my daughters. Luey and Camille are on one side, Cola is on the other. I am in the middle, walking into the future, away from anger, from disappointment, and from regret. I refused to be scared, or to believe that my future is a well of endless lament. I am galvanized by possibility.
I am choosing happiness.
Acknowledgments
Everyday pluck has always fascinated me. The Widow Waltz grew from my desire to write about a woman with no history of bravery—in other words, a woman like most of us—who is forced by life to weave a magic carpet of resilience to carry her forward. In writing this book and shepherding it into print, I have received help from many people.
I could not ask for a better publisher than Clare Ferraro of Viking. Thank you for believing in me as a novelist as well as a journalist, and for allowing me to work with Carolyn Carlson, an exceptional editor thanks to her way with words, her guidance in finessing plot points and her bottomless encouragement. I have hit the jackpot to have such wise women in my corner. To Roseanne Serra, great cover! You captured the ultimate optimism of this book while demonstrating that fifty-year-old women can still have great legs. Alissa Amell, your interior design is elegant and timeless. Patricia Nicolescu, you copyedit like an artist. Nancy Sheppard, this book would literally be nowhere without your stellar marketing team. Deep thanks, too, to all of you and to Carolyn Coleburn, a whiz at promotion, and her protegée Langan Kingsley, who keeps thinking of ways to get the word out on this novel. Last, much appreciation to Ramona Demme for her constant kind attention.
For all five of my books, I offer boundless recognition to Christy Fletcher, whose critical eye and excellent taste are matched only by her warm championing. Everyone on her team is top-of-the-line, but I must offer special shout-outs to Melissa Chinchilla, Mink Choi, Kevin Cotter and Rebecca Gradinger.
Special gratitude goes to Paul Hundt, Esq. for his generous research about forensic accounting, a subject with which—happily—I had zero familiarity before I wrote this book. Charles Salzberg, thanks for your friendship and literary gossip and for leading many rollicking workshops where I was able to present the beginning of this book. Vivian Conan, Chaya Deitch, Sally Hoskins and Craig Irvine: you are all exceptional writers; I am grateful for the time you took to offer fastidious feedback on The Widow Waltz as it continued to evolve. Thanks, too, to the support of the New York Writers’ Workshop; to my book club, whose selections stretch my mind—Salman Rushdie, really?—and to my cyber village on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn. You keep me inspired on those long days as I try to charm my laptop into coughing up words.
To the many special book-lovers in my life—especially Anne, Barbsie, Betsy, Dale, Janey, Kimberly, Michele, Rochelle and Vicki—I am truly fortunate to have such warm, funny women in my corner. Thanks, ladies!
To my sons, Jed and Rory, you make me proud in ways that I can never stop counting. I hope you are glad that in The Widow Waltz this is your only mention.
Last but always first, thanks to Robert, my husband, who has believed in me since way back when. Your infectious smile and laugh blaze my way.
