Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

Now, she gasped. More than three dozen readers had left remarks about her last post. She clicked over to her dashboard and saw that over two hundred readers were now subscribing to the blog feed, meaning they would be automatically notified whenever Grace posted a new article.

A typical post on Gracenotes, where she had 239,000 subscribers, would have generated a couple hundred comments. But she was starting over now, from scratch, and each and every one of these readers and commenters were like gold for TrueGrace.

“Yay,” she said, in a small voice. Then, louder. “Oh hell yeah, yay!”

Scanning the comments, her smile grew wider. “Go, Grace,” said Justamom32. “Love your new blog. So much more approachable and attainable,” commented Wild4Style.

Of course the naysayers showed up for the party, too. “I liked your old blog better.” Or, “Why don’t you take some photography classes and get yourself a decent camera?” And, “Not much new or original here. All your ideas are tired and clichéd.” All of the negative comments, not to her surprise, were anonymous. Her finger hovered over the delete button for a moment, but then she read a note left by Rinquedink. “Hey, Grace, don’t let those bitches get you down. Haters gonna hate, taters gonna tate.”

Ben had always monitored the comments on Gracenotes, deleting anything that even smacked of criticism. No, Grace decided, she would only delete comments that were obscene, libelous, or obvious spam. She’d let her readers make up their minds themselves on what was spurious.

The final comment made her laugh out loud. “I’ve deleted that fraud, faux Gracenotes, from my feed. You really are the one, true Grace. Wishing blessings for you and the ex-husband genital herpes.” It was signed CindyLouWhoo.

When she got out of the shower, Grace checked her e-mail and saw that she had responses from six of the bloggers she’d contacted to request a place on their blog roll. The first message she clicked on was from a lifestyle blogger who called herself Eleganza.

Eleganza’s real name, as everybody in the blogosphere knew, was Kennedy Moore. She’d been a contributing editor at several of Grace’s favorite, now-defunct shelter magazines, including House and Garden and Southern Accents.

Grace knew Kennedy’s backstory by heart. She’d been an interior designer, like Grace, and then, in the late eighties, after her children were off to college, had gone to work in the magazine world. Along the way, she’d weathered a divorce, remarried, and, within the past five years, lost her adored second husband and then her job at Southern Accents.

Kennedy had reinvented herself as one of the first professional lifestyle bloggers, writing witty, original posts; posing question-and-answer sessions with big-name designers; and sharing photos of the transformation of Hedgehog Cottage, her own small farmhouse in rural Connecticut. Eleganza, which featured her very personal take on interior design, cooking, entertaining, and affordable luxury, was hugely influential in Grace’s world.

Grace held her breath as she clicked on the e-mail.

Congratulations, Grace, for landing on your feet again. The little house on Mandevilla is a gem, and I can’t wait to see what clever tricks you’ll come up with to make it shine. I was sorry to hear of the end of your marriage, but as I know all too well from past experience, endings are really all about beginnings. I’ll be happy to add you to my blog roll. As soon as you get one of your rooms furnished, please send me pics and we’ll discuss you doing a guest post for Eleganza. All best, K.

If the room had been larger Grace would have turned a backflip. A guest post on Eleganza was at the top of her blogger bucket list. Kennedy Moore’s blog was the biggest-drawing lifestyle blog in existence, with more than three million subscribers. Her advertisers ranged from Home Depot to Tiffany to Coke. And now, TrueGrace would be on the very short, very select Eleganza blog roll. She flopped back on her bed, kicking her legs in celebration.

Quickly, she read the other responses. All but one were warm welcomes from bloggers who’d formerly included Gracenotes on their blog rolls.

The sixth e-mail contained a sobering message.

Dear Grace. I’d be only too happy to add TrueGrace to my blog roll, but I just can’t. I think you should know that certain people are out there making veiled threats to anybody who gives you a hand. Since my husband was laid off his job last year, my little blog and the money it generates is our family’s sole income. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to make any enemies right now. Wishing you all the best, PeanutButter&Jedi.

Grace blinked. Was Ben actually contacting other bloggers and threatening anybody who helped her? Obviously, the others who’d agreed to add her name to their rolls either hadn’t been contacted by him or just didn’t feel threatened.

PeanutButter&Jedi was an emerging mommy blogger from Denver whose blog had been one of the first Grace added after establishing Gracenotes. Susan, its author, was the mother of four young boys, including a set of triplets, and Grace loved reading her wry accounts of decorating their home on a budget, thrifting, and her inventive recipes.

She felt a tiny stab of fear. What, exactly, was Ben threatening? His contacts with their advertisers were extensive. Maybe he’d casually dropped a hint to those same advertisers that anybody associated with Grace was poison? Whatever he’d done, it was enough to scare off Susan at PeanutButter&Jedi. And how many others?

It didn’t matter, she decided. Ben would do whatever he could do. J’Aimee could preen and poach off her blog, but she would never be anything more than a poser.

Suddenly, Grace’s path seemed very clear. She thought back to that first house she and Ben had restored together. They’d had nothing but sweat and perseverance. It was a cliché, but they’d made lemons out of lemonade back then. She would do it again, she vowed. Without Ben, without his connections, without money. And without fear.

34

Grace