Keeping Cozy

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Now comes the end of January, the depth of winter, the coldest days of the year. For those of us who are New Englanders (or you, our readers, in the northern states and in Canada) it means nights that can freeze the water pipes, mornings where the car battery doesn’t start, and daily outfits of long johns, thermal tops, and heavy woolen sweaters. 

But even in places like Phoenix and San Francisco, the days only rise into the fifties this week and the nights chill close to freezing. Only Lucy, living in Key West (the same latitude as the Gulf of Bahrain and the Arabian Sea!) doesn’t need to slip on a pullover and some fuzzy socks.

 

None of us are escaping to tropical beaches this winter, and short of breaking the bank to crank the heat up to 78F, we all need trucks and workarounds to stay warm, and sometimes more importantly, to feel cozy. For me, it all starts with fires in the woodstoves. They throw off real heat, but there’s also an atavistic human response to flames that just makes you feel better.  I have a friend with no way at all to burn wood who swears by the You Tube 10 hour crackling fireplace!

Another must-have: snuggly throws. I have woolen throws (seriously warm,) velvety plush throws, chunky knitted throws and crocheted-by-grandma throws. While wrapped in a blanket in front of a fire, I add the third necessity for coziness - a hot drink. Herbal tea, hot cider, hot cocoa - it doesn’t matter so long as it warms your fingers as you hold it and warms your insides on the way down.

How about you, Reds? What are your stay-warm secrets? 

RHYS BOWEN: I confess to being at the warmer end of the spectrum here in California. John keeps our house around 70 degrees so sweaters aren’t necessary. We bundle up for our morning walk when it can drop to the thirties. I’m a great believer in cashmere and my cashmere cardigan insulates brilliantly. My Christmas present this year was an electric fireplace that I love. One flick of the switch and I have crackling flames plus as much heat as I need.  And our winter routine is soups. Lots of hearty homemade soups for lunch—carrot and parsnip and leek and cauliflower as well as chicken and dumplings seasoned with curry or ginger or cinnamon. All yummy and just right for gloomy cold days. And hot apple cider at night!

 

 

 

JENN McKINLAY: We’ve had the most consistently cold weather in Phoenix that I can remember in a long time. Day after day in the low sixties and nights in the high thirties. What the heck? This is not what I signed on for! That being said, my fluffy pink bathrobe is getting more than its usual two weeks out of the closet and has been in rotation for two months. My thermal shirts are my daily wear, soft, warm, and comfy, I have them in all colors which conveniently match my collection of flannel plaid shirts, which are favorites even though I’m sure I look like I’ve misplaced my axe. 

Throws are a must, although the pets out maneuver me for them, which is annoying because I don’t have the heart to boot them off. And, yes, hot tea! Yorkshire Gold, please, with honey and keep it coming.

LUCY BURDETTE: I admit to being the warmest Red of the bunch. But I am wearing socks and jeans and a sweatshirt to walk Lottie for coffee in the morning. That sort of counts. We had the most wonderful Italian wedding soup with turkey meatballs, spinach, orzo and lemon this week. I think what pushed the recipe to the next level was John’s turkey stock, which we’d frozen after thanksgiving. He roasted the carcass with vegetables and then we boiled. It was wonderful and the recipe made a lot! I tweaked Mary Jane Maffini’s recipe which is here: https://www.mysteryloverskitchen.com/2021/01/turkey-meatball-soup-with-spinach-and.html

 

 

 

 

 

HALLIE EPHRON: When I went out this morning for the paper, the thermometer was reading 20 degrees--a shock after what’s been a pretty mild winter so far. I swear by fingerless gloves, socks, and hot tea. And I have the coziest throw that my daughter got us for Christmas--fleece on one side, velvet on the other. But really the key to staying warm is layers. I’m partial to Cuddl Duds silky long underwear. 

Now I want some of that Italian wedding soup. Or actually, just a cup of John’s turkey stock would do. Roast the carcass with vegetables first?! I’m going to do that to the chicken I roasted last night. 

DEBORAH CROMBIE: 78 degrees, Julia! Not happening in our old house. There are days when the north wind is blowing that I have trouble getting it up to 65. So lots of throws--I gave myself two new incredibly fluffy ones for an early Christmas present. Throws in the living room, one at each of my two writing desks, extra quilts on the bed.

I have one latte in the morning, and after that I’ve been switching to ginger tea (thanks to that arm-length ginger root I scored a couple of weeks ago) which is lovely and warming, and I wrap my hands around my pottery mug when not typing. Maybe I need to try Hallie’s fingerless gloves.

Lots of soups here, too, and I’ve had a hankering for Italian Wedding Soup. I have some ground veal in the freezer that I need to use--maybe for the meatballs? 

Oh, and a fire most evenings. We have gas piped into our wood-burning fireplace, so if we’re lazy we can just turn on the gas. Not nearly as warming, however, but it is cheerful.

 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I am so glad you can't see me! Socks, camisole, thermal t-shirt , yoga pants, fleece hoodie, Uggs. And a blanket around my shoulders.  It is grotesque and so very very warm. I also have this ridiculous sky blue thing that's fleecy/fuzzy, it's a fleecy hoodie that goes down to my knees. It is shamefully cozy.

Our house is so old that every room is different to heat (or not) so we just add and discard clothing as need be, leaving wraps and shawls wherever. Oh! Do you know Uniqlo heat-tech tshirts? Very very thin, but SO warm! And Hanro camisoles. 

 

JULIA: Okay, dear readers, it's your turn. What are your tips and tricks for getting through the coldest days of winter?

When Your Personal Life is Material for Your Work by Jenn McKinlay

Jenn McKinlay: In a different lifetime, I was a part-time librarian. It was a great job. I loved my coworkers, the books, the public, the books, the atmosphere, the books, well, you get the idea. The library was my happy place.

That was right up until a patron got the wrong idea about my smiling helpfulness. He was asking for books on how to care for his hamster and I gamely jumped in, making his mission my mission as I did with any and all reference questions. When he left the building, he had a stack of hamster books in his arms, and I felt as if my mission was accomplished. 

Sadly, this patron took my friendliness the wrong way. The next time he appeared at my desk, he had a stack of planning your wedding books for me. He pushed them towards me and said, "I think June 1st would be a lovely day to get married." ACK!!!

It got worse. He sat near my reference desk and stared at me for hours. He waited for me when I left the building. I started looking over my shoulder constantly and spent my days on edge. The administrators at the time (they've since retired) were hesitant to kick him out of the building for fear of violating his civil rights. Excuse me?! And we wonder why women don't feel heard.

Finally, a detective from the Phoenix PD came to see me, sent by a friend who was the head of the liquor commission at the time. He listened to my story and told me he'd never seen a case of stalking handled so poorly by the powers that be (library admin) in all his years on the force. He and a partner went to talk to my stalker and convinced him to stay clear of me and the building I worked in for at least a year. Turns out, the guy had a history of stalking and had done jail time before. 

September 2019

So, when it came time to write WORD TO THE WISE, I knew I wanted to settle some old scores, right some wrongs, and exorcise some demons. Here is a snippet as librarian Lindsey Norris struggles with how to handle a patron, who is overstepping:

     Lindsey was going over the agenda of the next library board meeting with the president, Milton Duffy, in the main part of the library when Mayor Hensen and his right hand man, Herb Gunderson, came into the building. The mayor was known for his politician’s thousand-watt smile but at the moment, there was no sign of it. Not even a twitch of his lips.

     “Good afternoon, Mayor, Herb,” Lindsey greeted them.

     “A word, Lindsey,” Mayor Henson said. He kept walking, not even slowing down, towards Lindsey’s office. She gave Milton a wide-eyed look and followed the mayor into the workroom to the back where her office was. She felt Ms. Cole watching, and she turned and shrugged with a bewildered expression. Ms. Cole, who was not a fan of the mayor, smiled.

     Once in the office, the mayor and Herb took the two seats across from her desk and Lindsey sat down behind it. 

     “Can I get you anything?” she offered. “Coffee, water, soda?”

     “No thank you,” Mayor Hensen said. Herb didn’t say anything and Lindsey knew that the nature of their relationship meant that the mayor was answering for Herb as well. 

     “We’re here to discuss a matter of concern brought to us by a resident of Briar Creek,” Herb said.

     Lindsey felt her heart sink. This was how they always began a discussion when someone wanted to ban a book. While the mayor and Herb tended to be more interested in placating the patron, Lindsey took a hard line on not banning books. Period.

     She straightened her back. If they tried to get rid of one of her paper bound babies, well, there was going to be a fight.

     “Mr. Aaron Grady stopped by my office and told us that he’d been banned from using the library by the chief of police,” Mayor Hensen said. “Is this true?”

     Lindsey felt her face get warm. She did not want to have to explain this situation to the mayor. It was awkward and embarrassing and in a town where most of the department heads were male, she was afraid this was going to make her look weak and ineffectual. Her resentment spiked. She decided to stick to the facts.

     “I believe Chief Plewicki spoke to him about his inappropriate behavior,” Lindsey said. “Last I saw, she followed him out of the building and I haven’t heard from her since. I expect she’ll be in touch to give me more details when she gets the chance. If she banned him from the building, that’s welcome news to me.”

     “What was inappropriate about his use of the library?” Herb asked.

     “At the time, he was sitting at a desk and staring at me,” she said. 

     The two men exchanged a look. 

     “For an hour,” Lindsey said. “Just staring. And when I came into my office after being out there, he dragged a desk and chair into the shelving so he could continue to do so.”

     She pointed out the office window at the stacks but the desk and chair had already been moved back to their original location.

     “Do you think you might be overreacting?” Herb asked. Lindsey glowered.

      “He brings me roses from his garden,” she said. They stared at her, clearly waiting for more. “He pops up in town, wherever I am.” They weren’t getting it. “He showed up at my house.”

     The men exchanged a look. Herb cleared his throat and said, “Lindsey, you’re an attractive woman, and I mean that as an unbiased observation of fact and not in any way inappropriately.”

     “Okay,” Lindsey said. She wasn’t sure what to make of this.

     “So, is it really unreasonable for a man to notice you?” Herb asked.

     The mayor nodded as if to say what he said.

    “I mean,” Herb continued. “Can’t you just take it as a compliment and not have him kicked out of the building?”

     Lindsey returned their gazes, studying the two men sitting in front of her. She liked them. They were both good, solid family men. The sort who went to church every Sunday, doted on their moms, coached little league and soccer in their spare time. They were solid, salt of the earth types of guys. They could never imagine what it felt like to be a victim of unwanted attention and Lindsey didn’t know how to explain it beyond the fact that it sucked. She went with the facts.

     “No, I can’t,” she said. “Because it’s not a compliment. It’s creepy and marginally threatening and if it was your wife, sister, mother, or daughter, I don’t think you’d want them to put up with it either.”

     “Oh, now, come on,” Mayor Hensen tried to cajole her. “I know I’d be delighted if a woman thought I was attractive enough to warrant a couple of longing looks and some roses. Surely, being complimented like that can’t be that bad.” He elbowed Herb. “Am I right?”

     “Absolutely,” Herb said. “We don’t want to punish a man for having a silly little crush, do we? You should be flattered, Lindsey.”

     “Flattered?” she asked. “Did you miss the part where the guy showed up at my house with flowers when I was home alone. I never gave him my address. I’m not even listed at that address. That’s crossing the line.”

     “Yes, he did admit that he might have overstepped,” Herb said.

     “Might have?” Lindsey asked. “There’s no “might have” here. Listen, there’s something wrong with him and I’m not willing to put my staff or myself in harm’s way if this guy decides to show up with a gun or a bomb or whatever. So, no, I’m not going to pretend that I find this flattering. I don’t. It’s wrong and it’s weird, and I expect your support on this.”

     The two men exchanged another look.

     “Here’s the problem,” Herb said. “Mr. Grady has threatened to sue the town for infringing upon his civil rights if he is kicked out of the library. Since he hasn’t threatened you in any way, we feel it is best to let him back into the building.”

     “You’re joking,” she

said.

     The two men simply looked at her and she knew that their fear of a lawsuit outweighed their concern that she and her staff could be at risk. In that moment, the disappointment she felt in these two men she considered colleagues and friends had no bottom.

     “I’m afraid not,” Mayor Hensen said. “Mr. Grady is allowed to use the library just like any other resident of Briar Creek and the Thumb Islands. I’ll be making my position on this clear to Chief Plewicki as well.”

     He rose from his seat and Herb followed. At the door, Herb looked back and said, “If you have any other information, if he does anything that warrants further consideration, let us know and we can discuss it again.”

     With that they left, and Lindsey felt betrayed on a level she had never before experienced. 

What about you, Reds and Readers, have you ever had anyone cross the line? How did you get rid of them?

Cozy or Noir?

RHYS BOWEN:

I’ve just been working on a Christmas short story (or rather very long story) for my Amazon publisher. And my editor suggested that she wanted a happy ending. It was Christmas. People expected happy endings. And I? I didn’t want to make it into a Hallmark movie in which everyone sits around the fire smiling with love on their faces and gratitude that the whole family is together, returned from Iraq and from fighting Ebola and from battling a rare disease to be in the beloved living room of the crusty patriarch who had formerly driven them away.

Actually that wasn’t my story at all. I can’t tell you the details but my two main characters are both offered what they really want for Christmas and both have the strength to reject it, realizing that what they really want and need is each other. For me that was satisfying enough, but I have conceded to make it a little more heartwarming without being schmaltzy.

So this caused me to examine the books I read and enjoy and yes, it’s true. I do like a happy ending. It doesn’t have to have a Disney conclusion with the bells ringing out and the fawns and rabbits dancing for joy as the happy couple go off to live happily ever after, but I do like to feel myself smiling as I close the book. It can be bitter-sweet. A beloved character can have died. But I want to feel satisfied. 

That’s why I’ve never been a fan of noir. Too often a crime is solved but you know for the characters there will still be no peace in their souls.

I suppose that’s why some of us are cozy writers and others are noir writers: it all comes down to the way we see the universe. I write a universe that is essentially a good safe place but is fractured by a violent crime. My sleuth’s task is to make that universe whole again.

For the noir writer the universe is a place of chaos. When one small part of it is healed through the solving of a murder it remains an unsafe place. I don’t want to live in that universe. I want my world populated with people who are essentially good. Who maybe commit a crime because they have been pushed to breaking point. And I want it to end in a satisfactory way. Justice being served. Broken lives healed. This must mean I’m an optimist, right?

 When I started writing mysteries I got all these reviews that said “This charming book. This delightful story. This charming and delightful series….” And I wanted to be taken seriously so I said to my editor, “In my next book there will be cannibalism, Satanism and strewn body parts.” And she said, “And I bet they will be charming and delightful body parts too.”

You can’t fight it. Your nature directs you to which books you read and write. So it’s interesting that I’ve been fighting for a less happy ending than my editor wanted. Oh no—am I becoming more noir in my old age?

And I'd just like to add that I'm not thrilled about being dubbed a cozy writer. That somehow implies lesser, lighter, therefore not to be taken seriously. I don't understand why one would take a murder in an English village or country house less seriously than one in the backstreets of a city. Surely it is all the more shocking because it is unexpected. 

What about you? Do you believe our own basic nature drives us to see the world and write about it as cozy or noir? And what do you feel about the word COZY?