When most fifty-year-old women are settled in their lives, Francine’s life is falling apart. A chain of events, beginning with a minor car accident, shakes Francine’s foundation, causing her to reevaluate her career and her relationship with the people closest to her: her husband, her daughter, her best friend, and a former lover.
The Transformation of Francine recounts the pivotal year in the life of Francine Blythe as she copes with betrayal and loss, rekindles her passion for life, and opens herself up to love again.
Chapter 1 (excerpt) ...
Early Monday Francine woke with a restless feeling. She slid her hand from the heat of her body to the cold side of the bed and thought of Bill. But Bill had landed in Tokyo hours ago and was not due home until tomorrow.
To ease her mind, she left the bed’s warmth in search of the remote control, which she found lodged between the tan cushions of the living room sofa. She switched on a news channel and skimmed the headlines for any airline mishap. None surfaced.
She thought of her daughter, Erin, in San Francisco and listened for reports of any earthquakes in the area. While the reporter droned on about unrest in the Middle East, she studied the news ticker streaming across the bottom of the screen until she was satisfied nothing out of the ordinary pertained to her.
After breezing through a hot shower, she donned a tailored gray suit and a white silk blouse, the outfit she always wore for good luck on the first day of a trial. She applied a modest amount of makeup and wrestled with her straight hair, all the while plagued by a nagging sensation she could not quite place.
A few sips of coffee and a bite of toast were the only bits of nourishment her stomach would allow. Even the bay’s sights and sounds that normally soothed her—the rippling water, the screeching gulls, a sailboat’s billowing sails—gave her no relief.
By the time she had slid behind the wheel of her Lexus, she shrugged off the restlessness as normal anticipation of presenting before a jury. She had worked hard to get to this day, and it would only be natural to feel edgy and apprehensive. Already her blouse clung to her moist skin.