Covid Seasons is the story of three couples and how they cope, or donât cope, with the year from hell.
Julie, a model quality blonde, is a lieutenant with the Scottsdale Police. She's got a take charge personality, a drinking problem, and she's sexually aggressive. Her mixed-race husband, Mark, is a lawyer on hiatus, a staunch Democrat, and, in affairs of the heart, pretty much clueless.
Sherri is an evangelical Christian who unequivocally supports Trump. Her husband, John, is a libertarian who holds grudges and plans to seek revenge against those who have wronged him.
Emjay (Maria Juanita) is an attractive Latina who is disillusioned with her childless marriage and has chosen to tolerate her husbandâs infidelity. Scott, her husband, is a silver-tongued businessman who has his roving eye on Julie.
The story begins January 30th: they discuss Trumpâs impeachment, Kobe Bryantâs tragic death, and this new virus, which has claimed its first victim in Arizona.
The story ends January 6, 2021: Covid has killed members, family, and friends. The survivors sit together, talking about the future. A few feet away, a group of Trump supporters, watching on TV, cheer as a mob storms the Capitol.
Covid Seasons is the story of three couples and how they cope, or donât cope, with the year from hell.
Julie, a model quality blonde, is a lieutenant with the Scottsdale Police. She's got a take charge personality, a drinking problem, and she's sexually aggressive. Her mixed-race husband, Mark, is a lawyer on hiatus, a staunch Democrat, and, in affairs of the heart, pretty much clueless.
Sherri is an evangelical Christian who unequivocally supports Trump. Her husband, John, is a libertarian who holds grudges and plans to seek revenge against those who have wronged him.
Emjay (Maria Juanita) is an attractive Latina who is disillusioned with her childless marriage and has chosen to tolerate her husbandâs infidelity. Scott, her husband, is a silver-tongued businessman who has his roving eye on Julie.
The story begins January 30th: they discuss Trumpâs impeachment, Kobe Bryantâs tragic death, and this new virus, which has claimed its first victim in Arizona.
The story ends January 6, 2021: Covid has killed members, family, and friends. The survivors sit together, talking about the future. A few feet away, a group of Trump supporters, watching on TV, cheer as a mob storms the Capitol.
PROLOGUE
WEDNESDAY JANUARY 29, 10:00 PM
Heâd had an upset stomach and headache the entire day. After dinner, as they watched TV, he started coughing and couldnât stop. He drank some hot tea. Didnât help. Then cough drops. Nothing helped. It got so bad he was having trouble catching his breath.
She asked him if she should call 9-1-1. He said no, he just needed a good nightâs sleep. He took a sleeping pill, but before they went to bed, he had another coughing fit. He was gasping for air, and she insisted on calling 9-1-1. He wouldnât have it. They argued, and he finally agreed to go to the emergency room. Then, in the car, he insisted on driving.
They got on the freeway, heading toward the hospital. His coughing got worse. She begged him to pull over, but he wouldnât do it. âJust one more mile,â he said, and then, suddenly, they were off the road. All she remembered was screaming and the car going into a ditch.
Minutes later, she woke up. It was pitch black, and the car was on its side. She was hanging from her seat belt and shoulder harness, looking down at him. He was unconscious.
She had a broken wrist, was badly bruised, and had a concussion. The doctors later told her it was a grade three. Severe. She was in and out of consciousness, but when she was awake, sheâd reach down with her good hand and shake him. He never woke up.
They were in that ditch the entire night. No one came until the next morning. By then, it was too late. He died. Loss of blood from a head injury.
She woke up in the hospital. A policeman was there to explain what happened.
âOn that part of the freeway,â he told her, âthereâs a deep drainage area running along the side of the road. Itâs not right next to the road, itâs a few yards away. So when your car went off the roadâit was late at night, not much traffic, hardly any lightâno one saw it go into the ditch. A maintenance crew spotted it just before sunrise.â
They do blood tests in situations like these. Cause of death was pretty clear, but they want to know if there was an underlying cause: alcohol, drugs, whatever. A few weeks later she was notified. Her husband had Covid-19.
PART 1: A WINTER OF BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
CHAPTER 1
THURSDAY JANUARY 30, 9:30 AM MARK
Mark Taylor, balancing a tray of pastries in one hand and a cupholder with two paper cups in the other, backed out of Mimiâs Place, a coffee shop situated in a strip mall near the corner of Hayden and Mountain View. Once clear of the swinging glass door, he moved slowly across the sidewalk, stopped, bent slightly at the waist, and carefully placed the tray and cupholder on the wrought iron table top. There were a half-dozen tables with matching chairs arranged randomly along the sidewalk, ostensibly reserved for Mimiâs patrons. On this cool January morning in a Scottsdale jammed with winter visitors, every table, and almost every chair, was occupied.
Winter in Arizona, he thought as he removed the cups from their holder and sat. Send me your tired, your poor, your senior citizens freezing their wrinkled butts off.
Seated at the table were his wife Julie and friends John and Sherri McKee. The temperature was in the low fifties, and they were all dressed warmly. Julie, a former model who still turned heads at forty-seven, wore a forest green DKNY outfit. Sherri, a handsome woman of sixty-five who was fighting a losing battle against wrinkles and gray hair, had her usual Chamomile tea, and wore a blue sweater-slacks combo from Banana Republic. John, drinking unsweetened black coffee, wore a navy hoodie, jeans, a very nasty pair of cowboy boots, and his ever-present Ford Trucks baseball cap. Mark, who tended to dress casually, wore a medium-weight black pullover, jeans, and sneakers.
Julie reached for the cup marked with the letter H. âHazelnut, right?â
âAbsolutely,â Mark said. âHazelnut latte for you, ordinary run-of- the-mill latte for me.â
Sherri glanced at the tray, which was overflowing with a large almond croissant, a dark, chunky morning glory muffin, an oversized chocolate chip cookie, and a scattering of paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils. âThatâs a lot of calories,â she said, perhaps a bit too loudly, drawing glances from people sitting at adjacent tables. In a near whisper, she continued, âWhatâs the occasion?â
âThe occasion, my dear woman,â Mark said, grinning, âis that I am flat out hungry. On this winter morning, I was not able to avail myself of my usual cold weather breakfast of hot oatmeal with dried cranberries. So, I must settle for coffee and however many of these goodies I can scarf before the rest of you vultures get your paws on them.â
âWell put, oh great one,â Julie said as she arranged paper plates in front of each person. Sherri, wielding plastic, did the cutting: the croissant in cleanly cut quarters, the muffin in crumbly quarters, and the soft-baked cookie cut into sixths, like a small pizza. Yes, it was a clichĂ©âwomenâs workâbut Mark was unlikely to do it, and John was useless in the kitchen. The women, whoâd been friends for a long time, didnât mind.
âAnd Mark,â Julie continued, âregarding your comment about oatmeal, you forgot to mention that it was you who shopped yesterday and failed to replenish your cereal supply.â
âGuilty as charged,â Mark said.
John leaned forward, gazed at the pastries, then looked up, first at Julie, then at Mark. âShould we wait? I assume Scott and Emjay are coming?â
âThey said theyâd be here,â Mark said, âand thatâs another reason for having pastries. Today, we celebrate the reconstitution of the Scottsdale Six, after operating as a foursome for what, a month?â
âThey left just before Christmas,â Sherri said, âand got back Tuesday.â
âSo, more like five weeks.â Mark pushed his chair back and stood. âIn any case, today, we are again Six. Six souls in need of conversation, companionship, coffee ... and, occasionally, pastries. So, as organizerââ
âSelf-appointed,â John mumbled.
âOrganizer, discussion leaderââ
âWhatever.â
âYes, John, whatever ... I say âcheers everyone.ââ He lifted his cup and drank. Foam clung to his upper lip. He smiled, then sat back down. Mark was, in fact, the self-appointed organizer, discussion leader, and overall majordomo. The others played along.
âJohn,â Julie said, âto answer your question: No use waiting. Eat. If we run out of food, weâll get more. And guys, as Sher said, they got back Tuesday. Theyâre probably wiped out, not to mention busy as hell. Cut âem some slack.â
The Core Four, as they often called themselves when Scott and Emjay werenât around, had known each other for going on eleven years. Mark and Julie Taylor had moved into Monterey Vista, a small gated community in central Scottsdale, in 2004. John and Sherri had purchased their Monterey Vista home in 2009, just after the market crash. John liked to brag about the deal he got. âPennies on the dollar,â he liked to say.
The regular Thursday morning meetings had begun, just after John and Sherri had moved in, with what they now referred to as âthat serendipitous encounter.â John, backing out of Mimiâs front door carrying his and his wifeâs drinks, turned and barreled into Mark, who was just approaching the entrance. As John dipped and swayed, trying mightily to keep the drinks from toppling, Mark mumbled an apology, did a double- take, and said, âHey, I know you. Youâre our new neighbor.â
Both families lived in the same quiet cul de sac, albeit on opposite sides. Minutes after their encounter, the couples were seated at the same table, getting to know one another; thus, the Core Four was born.
Over the years, they had added other couples and begun calling themselves the Scottsdale Six. None of the newbies had lasted more than two or three years. One couple had moved away, another took offense when John characterized them as âtoo argumentative,â and another had just lost interest. Scott and Emjay had moved to Monterey 18 months ago. After meeting the Taylors and McKees at a neighborhood gathering, theyâd been invited to join. So far, so good.
Sherri served everyone their choice of pastry. A moment later, John said, âSo, Mark, you went to the grocery store and failed to buy oatmeal. Can I assume you avoided the cereal aisle so you wouldnât have to see Aunt Jemimaâs smiling face?â
That tired routine again? Mark smiled. He was mixed-race, and his legal name was Marcus, but he preferred Mark. John would occasionally needle him about avoiding use of the so-called black-sounding name. âI also detour around the aisle where the Uncle Benâs Rice is displayed.â
âI feel your pain,â John said, grinning.
âI doubt it,â Mark said, returning the grin, then adding, âMr. Pasty Face.â
âOuch!â John said, stricken.
âMark?â Julie said.
âJules,â John said, grinning, âhe knows Iâm just messing with him.
Anyway, so what if Iâm light-complexioned?â
âWhiter than a Klan bed sheet,â Mark said.
âGuys?â Julie said, tapping her fingers on the table. âWeâve all heard this routine before. Letâs move on.â
âYes, Julie, letâs,â Sherri said. âFirst, we very much appreciate the goodies, but Iâm getting a little concerned about Scott and Emjay.â She tapped her cell phone. âFifteen minutes late, and no call or text. Emjayâs not like that.â
âSherri, my good woman,â Mark said, âyes, theyâre late. A little late. Things happen, people get delayed. It happens to all of us. Right?â Sherri nodded. âThey said theyâd be here, so be patientââ
âAnd, speak of the devil, here they come,â Julie said, turning toward the parking lot.
A black Dodge Charger slowed to a rolling stop on the pavement adjacent to their table. The driver tapped his horn, then continued on.
âThatâs Scottâs ride,â Mark said, watching the car move away.
CHAPTER 2
THURSDAY JANUARY 30, 9:50 AM
MARK
A few minutes later, Scott, holding a Starbucks cup, wedged himself between tightly parked cars. Emjay was close behind. As they approached the table, Mark again stood. âThe world travelers return,â he said.
âAfter all this time away,â Scott said. He held out his fist, and Mark bumped it with his. âAnd a good morning to all of you, my friends.â He grinned as he leaned over and snagged a piece of cookie. âGoodies. Whatâs the occasion?â
âThe reconstitution of the Scottsdale Six,â Mark said.
Having just celebrated his forty-eighth birthday, Scott was the youngest of the men. He was tall, lean, and fair, in sharp contrast to his wife, Emjay, who was an attractive Latina. Wearing a Lululemon combo, she approached. Julie, Sherri and John all stood.
âHola, amigos,â Emjay said, hugging Julie, Sherri, John, and, finally, Mark.
âAmigos, indeed,â Julie said. She sat, Sherri sat, and the three men sat.
âIâm going inside,â Emjay said. âAnyone need anything?â She glanced at the tray. âShould I get another muffin? More cookies?â
âI think weâre okay,â Julie said.
Emjay went inside, returning two minutes later with her own latte. Once she was settled, Sherri said, âWe want to hear all about your travels.â
Emjay: âYou guys got our emails and pictures?â
Sherri: âYes, but we want more. Details?â
Scott: âIt was a great trip. A few days in Floridaââ
Julie: âWith your family? Orlando, right?â
Scott: âYeah. Spent Christmas with them. Then we drove down to Miami. Did some swimming, water skiing, soaked up some vertical rays, hit a few hot spots.
Emjay: âThen over to Europe for a couple of weeks.â
Julie: âThose were wonderful pictures of the French wine country.â
Scott: âYes. Did some serious drinking over there. We came back through D.C. Stayed with Emjayâs sister and her kids for a few days.â
âAlena, right?â Sherri glanced at Emjay, who nodded. âHowâs she doing?â
âAs well as can be expected,â Emjay said, âconsidering.â After an awkward moment of silence, she continued, âNext week, I promise to bring a bunch of pictures, and provide you all with details and answers to all your questions.â
Back to business. âOkay,â Mark said, leaning forward. âNow that thatâs decided, without further ado, discussion, distractions, or detours, I call this meeting of the Scottsdale Six to order! Cell phones off or on vibrate, please.â He watched as everyone silenced their phones. âSo, the first order of business: discussion of global and national news. Iâve got three subjects: Trumpâs impeachment, Kobeâs death, and that new virus, the one from China. Anybody got anything else?â
âSuper Bowl this Sunday,â Scott said. âThe Chiefs will roll.â
âJaredâs Middle East Peace Plan,â Sherri said. âAnother example of Trump making good on a campaign promise.â
âOh boy,â Mark said, chuckling. âWhere do I begin?â
âAnd weâre into politics,â Julie said. âMark, letâs not get into a big brouhaha about that.â
âOkay, but I just want to make one point. That plan is totally ridiculous. Dead on arrival. The Palestinians didnât even come to the announcement. Didnât participate in the negotiations, of which there were none, as far as anyone can tell.â
âMark,â Sherri said, âI didnât expect you to acknowledge another achievement.â
âWhat achievement? Nothingâs been achieved.â
âGuys,â Julie said, âenough.â
âOkay,â Mark said. âI wonât mention the rigged impeachment, his absurd Davos comment about that virus: âWe have it totally under control. Itâs one person coming from China.â And then he thanks President Xi for whatever it is heâs doingââ
âHates Mexicans,â Emjay added.
This prompted glances from people sitting at an adjacent table. Mark nodded at one grey-haired senior citizenâwearing a MAGA hat, no lessâwho was giving Emjay the evil eye. Mark coughed, caught his eye, and met his gaze. After a few seconds, MAGA man turned away.
âIâm gonna change the subject,â Julie said. âKobeâs passing. What a horrible thing. All those children.â
âHis daughter,â Sherri said, crossing herself. âJust thirteen.â
âOne of those random accidents,â John said. âCould happen to any of us. Underlines the fact that weâre only here, on this earth, for a very short while.â
âCherish our time here,â Sherri said.
âStill,â John said, âIt could happen to any of us. Today. Tomorrow.â
Next week. Next year. âNot to minimize it,â Mark said, âbut apparently heâtheyârode helicopters frequently. Increased the probability.â
âI agree, and I need a refill,ââJohn picked up his empty cup ââand Iâve gotta go. Back in a minute.â
As John headed into Mimiâs, Julie said, âAny other global issues before we move on?â
âLet me think,â Mark sighed. âOkay ... Unrest in Iran ... Brexit.â
âYawn,â Sherri said.
Mark shot her a look, then, âWell, I canât think of anything else.â
âThat virus you mentioned,â Julie said. âDidnât we get our first case this week? Arizona, I mean?â
âOne more thing to worry about.â Scott said, groaning.
âOn that unhappy note,â Sherri said, âMark?â
âAgenda item two.â He paused as he spied John coming out of Mimiâs. âJohn, weâre moving on to item two: closer to home.â
âIâve got nothing,â John said, sitting.
âIâve also got nothing,â Scott said, then, âwait. One thing. Played golf on Tuesday.â
âHardly news,â John said, grinning.
âHa ha. But newsworthy. Broke eighty for the first time in forever.â
âIn the cold,â Mark said. âImpressive. Whereâd you go?â
âDesert Mountain. Expensive. Winter rates.â
âI miss playing,â Mark said, sighing.
âIâve never played,â John said. âNever could understand the game.â
Golf defies understanding. âI havenât been out in a dogâs age,â Mark said.
Scott smiled. âHow many times have I asked you to come out with me?â
âYouâre out of my league,â Mark said, shaking his head. âIâm lucky if I break a hundred.â
âIâll take a look at your swing. How about next Tuesday?â
âLet me check my calendar.â
âMark, youâre not working,â Julie said. âRemember?â Her phone began to vibrate. She picked it up. âItâs Marsha Solomon.â
âMarsha?â Mark said. âFrom next door?â
âYeah,â Julie said, standing. âIâm gonna take this.â She moved away from the table.
âNot working?â Scott asked, catching Markâs eye. âSince when?â
âIâm on hiatus.â
âWhatâs the matter? Too many lawyers?â
âNot enough work. The firm has me on indefinite hiatus.â
âIndefinite?â Scott said. âSounds like retired to me.â
Mark: âFor Christâs sake. Iâm fifty. Iâm not retired.â
John: âIndefinite hiatus for how long now?â
Mark: âTwo months.â
Scott: âAnd counting.â
Give me a break. âScott,â Mark said, âregarding golf on Tuesday, Iâll let you know tomorrow.â He glanced around the table. Paper plates with scattered crumbs, empty coffee cups, wadded napkins. âAnyone got anything else?â
âWe saw the movie 1917,â Sherri said. âI thought it was good.â
âDisappointing,â John said. âDonât know ... Just didnât strike me as realistic. All those foxholes. A little too staged for me.â
âI was impressed with the way it was filmed,â Sherri said.
âTwo stars out of five,â John said.
Julie, pale, returned to the table. âGuys,ââshe scanned their facesââMarsha and her husband ... They were in a car accident.â
âOh my God,â Sherri said.
âHer husband, Gerry,ââshe slowly lowered herself onto her chair ââheâs dead.â
Dead? Mark leaned forward. âWhat?â
âHeâs dead.â She took a deep breath. âDied in the accident.â
âMadre de Dios.â Emjay, stunned, crossed herself.
Sherri, blinking away tears, also crossed herself, then began whispering a prayer. John, shaking his head, put his arm around her, comforting her. A few seconds later, Scott asked, âHow did it happen?â
âMarsha was calling from the hospital,â Julie said. âShe didnât say much. She just wanted meâMark and meâto watch their house.â
âHow is she?â Emjay asked. âPhysically, I mean.â
âShe said she wasnât hurt badly. Said sheâd be there a couple of days.â
âGerry is,ââMark sighedââGerry was a good friend. Scott, Emjay, remember we told you about the them? They were part of this group before you guys.â
Scott thought for a moment. âI remember you telling us thereâd been a few couples before us, but I donât remember the name.â
âSolomon,â Julie said. âGerry and Marsha.â
âThey were friends of ours, too,â John said, looking up. âNot just from this group. I mean, we all live in the same cul de sac. We saw each other, not all the time, but occasionally.â
âI donât think weâve ever met them,â Scott said, âbut weâre a couple of blocks over. Honey?â
âI met Marsha,â Emjay said. âJust walking around the neighborhood. In fact,ââshe glanced at Julieââyou were with her. You introduced us. Remember we talked for a few minutes?â
âYes, over by the tennis court,â Julie said. âI told Marsha Iâd visit her tomorrow.â
âGood,â Mark said.
âIâm just so shocked,â Sherri said. âSo close to home.â
âHorrible,â Julie said.
John glanced at his watch. âOn that sad note ...â
âYes,â Mark said. âItâs a little early, but I think we should adjourn.â
As they stood, Julie said, âIâll let you guys know about Marsha.â âPlease do,â Emjay said.
CHAPTER 3
FRIDAY JANUARY 31, 10:45 AM
JULIE
Julie Taylor was tired. As a Scottsdale police lieutenant, she didnât see much real action, but a graveyard shift was never any fun. Sheâd had one callout, just after 3:00 AM. One of her response teams had gotten into a shouting match with a lawyer who was âasserting his First Amendment rightsâ by playing basketball on his driveway and chugging Miller Light while an old-school boombox blasted out hard rock.
After arriving, and upon further discussion, sheâd discovered that he was a wannabe lawyer whoâd failed to pass the bar exam once, or maybe twice, or maybe three times. Heâd lost count.
Asshole.
After her shift, sheâd gone to see Marsha Solomon, and then headed home. After parking her Chevy Malibu in the garage, she moved quickly through the laundry room into the main hallway, tossed her coat on the sofa, and continued into the kitchen.
âMark?â
No response.
Where the hell is he? âMark?â she half-shouted. âIâm back.â
âBe there in a minute.â
âIâm in the kitchen.â
Two minutes later, he strolled in, still wearing his warm pajamas and slippers.
Already seated at the counter with a cup of coffee, she gave him the once-over.
âThe slob appears.â
âDressed for comfort,â he said, smiling. âAny coffee left?â
âYeah. Help yourself. What were you doing?â
âReading emails,â he said as he poured himself a cup, added a dollop of milk, and sat down next to her. âCleaning up my desktop. Nothing special.â Sipping his coffee, he picked up the newspaper. âHereâs the headline: As Virus Spreads, So Does Anti-Chinese Sentiment.â
âIâm not surprised.â
âMe neither. So tell me how Marshaâs doing.â
âI did get to see her, but just for a minute. She was pretty much out of it. Drugs. She thanked me for visiting. She was drifting in and out. Know what I mean?â He nodded. âBut I did talk to one of the nurses. Said it was a day-to-day thing, and that I should check back tomorrow.â
âHmm,â he said.
She sipped her coffee, grimacing as she swallowed. âDid you call our illustrious property manager? Whatâs his name?â
âYeah. Didnât get Roger; got his assistantââ
âShirley?â
âYeah, Shirley. Sheâs pretty much worthless.â
Brain dead. âDid they have an emergency contact?â
âMarshaâs sister in San Diego. The police had already notified her. Sheâll be here this afternoon.â
âOkay then.â Another sip, another grimace. âYou made the coffee too strong.â
He smiled. âGuilty as charged.â
She added milk, stirred, took another sip. âBetter.â
âIâm happy for you.â
Whereâd that come from? âSarcasm this early in the day?â
âNever too early.â
âSo, Mr. Lawyer on Indefinite Hiatus,ââthey exchanged smilesââwhat are you gonna do today?â
âGot some reading, some things about new regulations on family- owned businesses. Then Iâm gonna have a late lunch with Don. He wants me to think about coming back.â
âWhen? You going back, I mean.â
âHe hasnât said, but he implied there was some turnover coming.â
âHmm.â
âI might hit some golf balls after that.â He stood, moved to the
coffee maker, and poured more coffee and milk. âAnd what about you?â
âSleep. Then Iâve got a meeting at five. Theyâre rolling out some new policies. Criminals to catch, citizens to protect, just do it by the book. After that, Iâm gonna meet up with Lauren. Maybe have dinner if she wants to. Youâll be okay by yourself?â
âIâll get some Chinese take out. Iâll be fine. Suns are playing the Thunder. Iâll watch that.â âSounds exciting.â
âNow whoâs being sarcastic?â
Marcus TaylorâMarkâwas from Philadelphia. His father, William, was a somewhat militant black man whoâd worked on an assembly line his entire life. His white mother, Sarah, was from a faux liberal Main Line family who had shown their true colors by immediately disowning her when they married.
Without her familyâs support, they struggled to make ends meet. Mark and his brother, Dennis, always had enough food and clean clothes, but not much else.
After high school, wanting to be a lawyer, Mark worked his way thought Penn State, where he met Julie Roth, a criminal justice major, at a party. She was from Easton, a small town in Pennsylvaniaâs Lehigh Valley, a gritty region that never fully recovered from the collapse of Bethlehem Steel.
It was a cliche: he was working class black; she was white, blonde, and Jewish. In 1992, after graduating from Penn Stateâshe in criminal justice, he in pre-lawâthey married and moved to Philly, where he got his law degree at Drexel. They were broke, ambitious, and happy as clams. He found work as a public defender; she became a rookie cop. They saved some money, but it wasnât enough, so they decided to move to a faster- growing region.
After a few month of searching, he landed a job with a Phoenix-based firm specializing in family and small business law. After establishing their household, she joined the Scottsdale police force. Markâs career progressed well, and he eventually made partner. When Lauren was born, Julie, not wanting to be an absentee mother, resigned. When Lauren turned four, Julie rejoined the force. A few years later, she became a sergeant, and last year was promoted to lieutenant. She had aspirations of becoming a commander.
Lauren was now a sophomore at Arizona State, and her love life had become a concern. âMark?â Julie said, standing and moving to the sink, where she rinsed her cup and placed it on the drying rack. âWhen Iâm with Lauren, Iâm gonna talk to her about Matt.â
Matt Donaldson, a junior at Arizona State, lived with his mother, Stacey, in the same cul de sac as the Taylors and McKees. Like Lauren and many college students at ASU, he split time between his near campus apartment and home. There were two aspects to the problem: the obvious one, Mattâs negative influence on Lauren; and the on-again-off-again feud between the Taylors and Stacey Donaldson.
âAll I can say is: be careful. You know how sensitive she gets.â
âIâm gonna focus on their relationship. Iâll keep you-know-who out of it, unless she brings her in.â
Mark stood and moved to the sink. âI doubt that she will.â He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. âReading between the lines, I think she feels the same way about Stacey as we do.â
I hope so, but ... Julie checked her cell phone, then moved quickly into the living room.
Mark followed. âJules? One more thing?â
She grabbed her coat. âWhat?â
âNot to get you upset, but ... If you guys have dinner, take it easy on the wine.â
She turned to face him, and they locked eyes. âI donât need you to tell meââ
âAll I meant wasââ
âI know what you meant.â She turned and moved quickly away. Seconds later, the door between the laundry room and garage squealed open, then slammed shut.
Since 2014, two Arizona couples have met every Thursday morning to talk about the world and life in general. They have expanded the group to six, all neighbors in a small gated community in Scottsdale. They discuss and argue points and opinions while enjoying coffee at a local eatery. But this is late January 2020, and Covid is about to raise its ugly head, changing the world and the neighborâs lives forever.
The group includes Mark, a lawyer who has lost his job, and his wife Julie, who is a cop. Scott and Emjay are realtors that own their own business and John is retired and mostly spends his days irritating his wife Sherri with his nasty smelling cigars. Each of them has opinions about what is happening in the world and they are not opposed to arguing with the others in the group. That being said, they look forward to the weekly get-togethers, especially with the lockdown.
Covid Seasons addresses politics and Covid, but more importantly, it brings to light the struggles and strengths of some relationships during what we hope to be the worst part of the virus. As time trudges on, emotions run high and relationships become strained. The fabric of society as well as families has changed like never before in modern times, bringing out the best and worst of individuals. Some can adapt, others cannot. Â
This fast-paced novel is interesting, funny and, at times, painfully honest. The characters are fiction, but the virus, the Presidential election and division of our nation was all too real. Clothed in the opinions of the characters, the issues seemed much less jarring than watching on the nightly news. Secrets that may or may not have been a byproduct of the lockdown are exposed. Some rifts can and will be mended, others will not.
This is the first book I have read by Rick Goeld. He is the author of Searching for Steely Dan and Sex, Lies, and Soybeans as well as People of Windsor Mountain, a work of non-fiction. If you are a fan of Tim Dorseyâs writing, you will enjoy Covid Seasons. This book contains explicit behavior as well as adult language,
DISCLOSURE OF MATERIAL CONNECTION: I have a material connection because I received a review copy for free from Reedsy Discovery in exchange for a fair and honest review.
Copyright © 2021 Laura Hartman