Rhys looks back on a Week of Extremes.

RHYS BOWEN: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times! That line has never been more true than this last week. In the middle of Sunday night I was awakened by a phone call from my daughter Jane. She was fleeing from the fires in Sonoma. Could she come to stay? Of course, I said and hurried to make up beds. Then she called again. Her neighbor has nowhere to go. Could they come too? Of course, I said and found more bedding. Jane and the girls arrived, Jane having fled with just her wedding album and no toothbrush!

 So I was soon hosting seven people and three dogs. Jane's husband Tom works at the Veteran's Home in the Napa Valley. He drove into work with flames on either side of him and had the task of making the decision when and how to evacuate over 1000 old and infirm veterans.

So you can see that the week started in stressful manner. We tried to get updates on the fire. There were rumors flying around. The whole of Glen Elen had burned, just north of my daughter's house and business. The fire was five percent contained. That meant 95 percent uncontained. Real horror stories started to come in. Granddaughter Lizzie's friend's house and winery burned down. Then another. Other friends fled for their lives and didn't know if their houses were standing or not. We heard that the fire fighters were making a stand on Jane's fire on Madrone Road. We looked on the map. Madrone Road was just a block north of the swim center she owns. And if the winds picked up again the firefighters wouldn't be able to make a stand anywhere.

I told them I was going to cancel Bouchercon and stay with them. Don't be silly, my daughter said. You can't stop the flames. You go and enjoy yourself. They insisted. I went, but enjoying myself was not easy. When I was actually on a panel or having a meal with my agent, editor or publicist I forgot to think for a while. The moment I was free the phone came out and I was searching for updates. Ten percent contained. Winds expected to pick up. Fell asleep exhausted and worried. Grabbed the phone first thing the next morning. No real news. No real progress. Another day of worry.

And in between the worry were moments of pure joy.

We Reds went to dinner at the Reds Wine Bar (where else?) and shared a lobster grilled cheese sandwich--delicious but sinful. We plotted our panel and laughed a lot. I had breakfast with Debs and Louise Penny and we laughed even more. Then the three of us sat on stage for a chat to a small audience......

There were publisher parties and time to hang out at the bar (for the others. I was in my room phoning home!) and on Saturday came our Jungle Reds game show. This time it was called Name That Red. A statement was read out about the life of one of us and we each claimed it was us. And it turned out we were darned good liars... including Red Lucy's description of her Olympic luge training and Ingrid claiming she had done ski jumping in Denmark (which happens to be one of the flattest countries in the world). I successfully fooled the audience several times, convincing them that I had had my teeth cleaned by a murdering dentist, that I had lived next to Jane Austen's house. And they didn't believe that I could have been a leading light in the theater in Conroe, Texas. True.

The audience laughed, shouted out and were awarded prizes. I don't know who had a better time, us or them. We even had to face a paparazzi onslaught before we started our panel!

So we left still basking in the glow and regretting that the Reds didn't have more time together. I suspect a Reds Retreat is in our future!

I arrived home to good news. The evacuation order had been lifted. Our family went home this evening to a house with power restored (but no TV. Howls of disbelief) Jane's swim club survived, with just a huge clean up needed: the pool was full of ash and leaves and stagnation from a week with no filtration. But her staff is coming in at seven in the morning and she hopes to open again on Wednesday to help restore normalcy to a stricken community. Alas there will be some people for whom life will not be normal again for years. I'm not sure what to do to help. They have more volunteers than they can use. More donated items than they can handle right now.

On long plane rides I had time to think and I wondered what I would take from an approaching fire: good jewelry? Precious photo albums. We have many antiques from John's family: Chinese plates, a Queen Anne desk, a crusader's sword. They'd all have to be left to burn. And I have a copy of each of my books. I couldn't take them either. So I think of all those poor people who left behind treasures and souvenirs that can never been replaced. Such a heartbreaking time.

And I wonder: : what would you save from an approaching fire?