LYZA’S
STORY
Book One of The Lane Trilogy
Vicki Andree
Copyright © 2012 by Vicki Andree
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1169-9
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
Dedication
To my brother, Gary Myers, who challenged me to enter the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) competition on a cold October night in 2009.
Acknowledgments
God is so good! He arranged the whole thing. We were sitting around my sister’s home in North Platte, Nebraska one evening in early November, 2009. My sister, Ginger; her husband, Terry; my other sister, Cynthia; her husband, Dave; my husband, David and I were burnt out on playing Hand and Foot Canasta. I told them about my first book, On Our Own in Jerusalem’s Old City, and how eager I was waiting for the first published copy and to finally see it on Amazon.
Then I told them that our brother, Gary had challenged me to write fifty thousand words in November and to enter the NaNoWriMo competition. I had never written fiction, but that night I decided to take him up on the challenge. After all, it would take my mind off waiting for the book at Aventine Press.
I wanted to write about someone who gets converted by a Damascus road experience. In no time I was having more fun with my imagination than in a long time. As I read my first scene aloud, my family offered suggestions and encouragement. Before I knew it, Lyza’s Story took off. I want to thank Ginger and Terry Ault, Cynthia and Dave Matzek, and David Andree. I had a story to enter NaNoWriMo. Eventually, it grew to over two hundred forty thousand words and three books!
Many wonderful people helped me out in different ways. Thanks to the ACFW His Writers group that encouraged me as a newbie to fiction. I had the time of my life writing fiction and making new friends. Thank you, Donna Schlachter, for introducing me to Tuesday morning write-ins and leading me to the Word Crafters critique group which helped teach me how to mold the stories to the rules of the craft. Thanks also to the Christian Writer’s Guild critique group, Word Weavers.
Several individuals helped me by listening to me whine from time to time. Scott Lockhart and Craig Lockhart gave me valuable technical advice. Ginger Ault took time out of her busy schedule to read each book, to tell me ‘the truth’ and make suggestions. Diane King read rough drafts and provided prayer support. Barb Lem also provided much needed prayer support. Preston Wolfram was the Australia expert, having just returned from a summer of work there. And editor Misti Wolanski made the book much better. Thanks so much to each and every one of you.
Finally, I thank my husband, David. The Lane Trilogy would have never made it to print without David. He has been at my side through the peaks and valleys. He talked me out of it when I wanted to throw it all away. He edited every page several times. He’s my first editor, earning the title of my “hatchet man”. His constant encouragement kept me plugging away though the years of rewrites.
Chapter One
Lyza shook her fist at the darkening afternoon sky as a fat raindrop smacked her between the eyes. Muttering, she shook it off and trudged down a street littered with rubbish. Wearing a dirty black coat, she pushed a grocery cart filled with trash bags. Her filthy face and cracked hands yearned for soap and warm water. A gust of wind blew a ragged scarf off her itching head. As raindrops splashed on the pavement, people hurried past, not seeing her. She seemed invisible. Heaven and Earth ignored her. The air reeked like the dress she wore, and her stomach grumbled. A volunteer nodded a familiar hello as he opened the door to the rescue mission.
Lyza Lane jolted awake, gasping as if the nightmare threatened to drown her. The dream always stopped there. Horror choked her. She looked frantically around her elegant bedroom, assuring herself of reality. No! I’ll never be a bag lady. She caught her breath. This is ridiculous. We have more money than some countries. Even so, the nightmare reminded Lyza she had no control over the future. As hard as she worked and as successful as she was, there were no guarantees. Fear gripped her core.
Throwing back the silk comforter that covered thick Egyptian cotton sheets, Lyza Lane slipped into her Claire Haddad peignoir, stumbled to the master bath, and glanced back at the clock on the bedside table. Bright red numbers spelled 3:16 a.m. Polished marble floors, walls, and countertops, designed to her specifications, reminded her how removed she was from the poverty of her nightmare. She turned the gold knob, and water flowed from the mouth of a golden dragon. She chose a crystal decanter filled with lavender bath salts and poured a measure of bubble bath into the tub. She focused on the vase of fresh-cut flowers at the far end of the Jacuzzi; the white orchids were her and her mother’s favorites. With a deep sigh, she sank into the tub. As she relaxed in the warm water, her mind wandered, eventually landing where it always did—business.
She hadn’t chosen the business. She’d succumbed to the unquestioned expectation that she and her twin sister, Leesa, would carry on the family enterprise.
Why couldn’t we have had a brother? Father would’ve loved having a son amongst the good old boys I have to work with every day. On the other hand, she enjoyed the perks, like the mansion she shared with Leesa. Her mind flashed back to the nightmare. No bag lady would live in the estate she and her sister had designed. Their six-bedroom, eight-bath estate nestled in the foothills of Southern California near the sea afforded special considerations for comfort, privacy, and security.
The main floor consisted of a spacious foyer with a library to one side. The other side opened to a formal dining room, formal sitting room, and kitchen with an enormous marble bar dividing the work area from the informal family room. Staff quarters positioned across a generous courtyard offered privacy for the twins and their employees.
Lyza smiled and shook her head at the ridiculous thought of the bag lady in her dream, picturing herself walking up the wide teak staircase dividing the two wings that mirrored each other. They consisted of large entryways with sitting room, smaller kitchens that were never used, and two large bedrooms with enormous walk-in closets. Lyza and Leesa cared deeply for each other, but they treasured their personal space and maintained separate living quarters, visiting each other when they so chose. Besides the main house, two guest houses and an Olympic-sized pool completed the fifty-acre estate.
Lyza turned on the jets and added more hot water. Trying to collect her thoughts, she prioritized the half-dozen real estate projects. I should look over the paperwork on the Nuremberg deal. I’ll work on it tonight. Too bad Leesa’s in Vegas. Not that Lyza would have confided her personal fears or the recurring nightmare to her sister anyway.
I’m not alone. Cook is sleeping in her quarters. Lyza’s mind switched gears again. The Nuremberg deal will net a hefty profit. A half-billion dollar
