This post initially appeared June 9, 2020 on the award-winning blog Dru's Book Musing

Hello, cozy mystery readers!

My author and main character are exhausted after their chilling adventure in the latest book, Snowed Under. I’m stepping in as the star of Dru’s Book Musings today. (Dru requested me, by name. I’m so thrilled. Most side-kicks never get interviewed.)

Dru Ann has specific questions she wants me to answer by way of an introduction, so off we go.

My full name is Theresa Maria Josephina Olmos, née Rodriquez. My ancestors were cattle ranchers in the San Francisco Bay Area long before California became a state. We owned a lot of land, which in time brought many of us in the younger generations into real estate. You can’t swing a cat around here without hitting one of my blood relatives or in-laws. There’s a plaque on the bank my great-grandfather owned in downtown Orchard View. The town hasn’t changed much in seven generations though Silicon Valley has exploded around it.

I’m forty-something. Dru would probably like me to get more specific than that, but translating book time to three-dimensional human time can be tricky for an author. It’s nearly impossible for a fictional character, even one as super-organized as I am. (Main character Maggie McDonald is a professional organizer, but I’m even more organized than she is, at least in my work life. My house and my home life are a bit of a mess.)

I’m wrapping up a career as a high-powered Silicon Valley real estate agent and helping to ease all the tasks of a sale for my too-busy clients. My mid-life career change plans have me registering soon for classes at our local community college in criminology, law enforcement, and the law. Eventually, I’ll decide whether to get a law degree or become an agent or officer. For now, it’s enough to sell my existing business, get my son off to college, and take the first step of my new journey.

Dru asked if I have a significant other. It’s a difficult question to answer because my husband, Patrick, died a short time ago (Disorderly Conduct). I’m still figuring out what the “new normal” will look like for my 18-year-old son, Teddy and me. It’s hard. I still wear my wedding ring and still feel very much committed to Patrick, even though our family life was unlike most other marriages. Don’t get me wrong. He was mine, and I was his, til death do us part—no cheating, ever. But a short time after our flower-filled dream wedding, we realized that if we wanted to stay married, we had to live apart. Weird, huh?

But let me explain. It will make sense. At least it did for us. In my work life, I’m a super-polished and efficient. I wear sharp black suits, red blouses, and shoes that a fashionista would die for. I love my job and created a thriving business – which isn’t easy for a woman to do in the bro-business culture of Silicon Valley. But when I get home, I enter an extra bedroom in our home through an outside door and shed my suit, heels, and professional life. I shower, put my hair in a ponytail, grab my Ugg boots and sweats, and open the door to the rest of the house to greet my German shepherd, Mozart, and the rest of the family. Keeping my fashion wardrobe in a room separate from dog hair, cookie dough, and spaghetti sauce keeps my clothes looking spiffy. It also marks a firm line between the two sides of my life.

My late husband, Patrick, is the opposite. His engineering lab bench looks like it was upended in an earthquake, but he could find every tool. At home, he couldn’t relax unless everything was clean, neat, and in its proper place.

He tried, but living in the turmoil a toddler and working mom create was exhausting for him. So, we compromised. I have my house, and his primary residence is a tiny concierge apartment. We’re forever popping in and out of both places, which are only a few blocks apart. It takes –er took some high-level communication, but we made it work.

With a full-time job, planning for school, and raising a teenager on my own, I’ve got little time or energy left over for hobbies. My favorite part of the house used to be our deck and the garden beyond, which Patrick used to enjoy looking after. It was like a mini-vacation to settle into one of the crimson-cushioned lounge chairs for a snack or family dinner. But I haven’t been able to face it without Patrick. I will. But not yet.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven, a cup of coffee calling my name, and a need to snuggle up on my sofa with my dog, Mozart, and the latest episode of Outlander.