Rhys is enjoying the south of France.

 RHYS BOWEN:  I believe I've shared the beginning of my latest opus, called (for now) Mrs. Endicott's Excellent Adventure.  It's about a respectable middle aged woman whose life is turned upside down when her husband says he wants a divorce to marry a younger woman.  He expects her to go away quietly, live in a cottage with knitting and cats. She surprises him by taking his beloved Bentley and setting off for the south of France, a place she had loved as a girl but never been back to since. (Lionel hates abroad. He's says its full of garlic and flies.)

She doesn't go alone. The bossy elderly spinster who runs the village charities appears at her door and begs to come with her. She only has months to live and longs to see the blue Mediterranean. Ellie can't say no. Then she rescues her cleaning lady from an abusive husband, persuading her to come too. The three of them set out on the adventure winding up in a small seaside town near Marseille.

I know that whole coast well. I've rented an apartment twice in the area near Nice. We've driven all along the coast and the scenery is absolutely amazing. I'm basing this book on the town of Cassis, as it would have been before tourism hit--a small harbor, some pastel houses. What I love about writing this book is that I can be there, all day, at my computer. I smell the flowers and the salt air of the sea. I watch the yachts passing and taste the delicious food.

The piece I am sharing is after the ladies have moved in to a villa on a hilltop (how they get this is a part of the plot so you just have to know they are there).

One morning She came upon Dora, sitting on the terrace, staring out to sea. At first she thought Dora was lost in contemplation but then noticed one hand was on her wrist. She was taking her pulse.

                “Are you in pain?” she asked, going over to sit beside her.

                Dora looked up, startled at being interrupted from her reverie. “Oh no. No pain. It’s my heart, you see. Congestive heart failure. It’s funny but for a while I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be dead by now. All the excitement of coming here, finding this place. I’d really forgotten. And it was only now that I noticed how quickly I became out of breath and how weak my pulse had become.

“Should we take you to a doctor?” Ellie asked in concern.

Dora shook her head. “Oh no, my dear. Doctors can’t do anything. One day it will just stop beating and that will be that. It shouldn’t be a messy death for you.”

Ellie looked at her with tenderness. “Are you afraid to die?”

“Afraid?” Dora shook her head fiercely. “No, I’m not afraid. Only annoyed.”

“Annoyed?” Ellie had to smile.

“Yes, at all the things I never managed to do. I never climbed the Himalayas. I never rode with the Bedouins across the desert. I never wrote a novel or found a drug that might cure cancer. I leave no legacy, no proof that I was ever here.”

“I’m sure you were missed in the village,” Ellie said kindly.

“Missed, yes. But not beloved. That fussy old woman. That bossy old woman. That’s the height of my achievement in life, I suppose. Properly ironed altar cloths and perfect flowers for the church. They’ll miss the flowers, but not me.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ellie said. “Let’s just see if we can keep you around a little longer, eh? Buck you up with some good food.”

Dora smiled at her. “You’ve been a good friend, Ellie. One of the only true friends I’ve had. I’ll be sorry to leave this place.” She turned away, staring out to sea again. Today the Mediterranean sparkled under a cloudless sky. A sleek yacht passed, far out to sea. The breeze was scented with blossom.

This should be a book about a woman finding a whole new life and blossoming as a person. The only complication is that they arrive in this little town at the end of 1938. Their world is about to change and how they handle it becomes a main part of the story.

ONe of my great pleasures when I read is to be taken to another time and place, to savor the smells and tastes. This is why I loved Tony Hillerman. I love Kate Morton, Louise Penny, Cara Black and my fellow Reds because I can go to London or Paris or Ireland or Key West or freeze in Upstate New York

So what about you? Do you love to travel vicariously when you read? Favorite authors who take you somewhere?