Hilary Fields: Bliss

“I was an S,” volunteered Syna, patting her rear. “God knows how long it’ll take to wash off. I told my hubby I was test-driving a tattoo so as not to spoil the surprise. What’s worse is I think he likes the idea.” Syna grabbed one of Sera’s bonbons off the counter and shoveled it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she groaned. “Dang, woman! Who knew you were gonna dish up something called an O-Bomb? ” She giggled. “We couldn’t have planned it better if we tried! My son’s prob’ly gonna need years of therapy, but it was so worth it. When that German lady let’r rip… you should have seen Chef Austin’s face.” She doubled over, wheezing with laughter.

“So I…” Sera looked around at the sea of smiling faces filling the restaurant. Smiling because of her. “I really won, fair and square?”

“Kiddo, that was one totally, one-hundred-percent organic mass orgasm. And I oughta know!” Pauline pronounced. “Glad to see some of my teachings finally took hold, Baby-Bliss. You may be a late bloomer, but when you bloom…” Pauline choked up a bit, her brown eyes shining wet with emotion as her tone grew serious. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been so proud in my whole life,” she declared, planting a big wet one on Sera’s cheek. Hortencia followed suit with a smooch of her own, and the rest of the BRBs fairly choked her with hugs and well wishes. But there was one honorary member still waiting to congratulate her.

Sera’s eyes met Asher’s over the heads of her friends. Her heart swelled at what she saw there.

Pure bliss.

The Back Room Babes parted, making way for the tall Israeli. He reached Sera in a few swift steps, swept her up, and spun her around until she squealed with delight. Setting her down as though she were the most precious thing on earth, Asher cupped Sera’s cheeks in his callused hands. He looked down at her with a world of pride and admiration in his gaze. “You’ve done it, Bliss,” he said softly.

She gave him a kiss that contained all of the gratitude and joy she felt in this moment. “Wait ’til I get you home tonight, lover,” she whispered in his ear. “I think we can top this performance, easy.”

In her mind’s eye, the armadillo winked.

As a transplant to the City Different, I still have so much to learn. How could I adequately characterize a town with so many centuries of history, culture, and unique Southwestern flair? I must apologize in advance for any inaccuracies or omissions, and call out a few deliberate fudges here.

Those who know Santa Fe will probably recognize the Sunshine Diner as an obvious stand-in for the wonderful Zia Diner—a staple of the Railyard District for many years. As my tummy can testify, the pie is every bit as good as ever at the Zia! I don’t know who their pie maven is, but long may he or she reign.

The Horseman’s Haven is indeed famous for their nuclear-hot green chile. Taste Level 2 at your own risk, and don’t say you weren’t warned.

For the past several years, Zozobra has been held the night before Fiesta. I’m still hoping they’ll change it back to Friday night.

Ghost Ranch, up in Abiquiu, is a stunning and inspiring place. I hope they won’t mind that I took the liberty of turning their hogans into sweat lodges for Sera’s “quest.”

Placita de Suerte y Sueños is based on a couple of the delightful courtyard oases along Palace Avenue, but it is, itself, a figment of my imagination. Still, if you go looking for it, you’re sure to encounter some serendipitous finds.

Ten Thousand Waves is my favorite place on the planet. I hope I got it right.

Ms. Holly Root, how do I thank you? Your kindness and steadfastness in sticking with me are humbling, to say the least. Your intelligence, assurance, and unerring instincts are frankly intimidating. I’m so grateful you’re my agent.

Enormous gratitude goes to Susan Barnes and to all the talented team at Redhook for seeing what I saw in this novel, and more. I’m delighted to be included in your stable of authors and hope to do you proud.

A big shout out to Mr. Featherbottom—otherwise known as Eric Buscher—who asked me (fortunately when I was still just thirty pages in), “Why are you killing off your best character?” Pauline thanks you, too.

To the members of the Mediabistro 12-Week Novel Writing Workshop, thank you for guiding me through the first half of this novel with wise and gracious critiques. And thanks in equal measure to our little Santa Fe writer’s group for invaluable advice through the second.

To the Thursday Night Eldorado Women’s Meeting… if there really were Back Room Babes, you’d be charter members.

Caz, thank you for long walks, road trips, and read-throughs. You’re one of a kind.

Syna, thanks for the loan of your name and your invaluable knowledge of the restaurant business.

And Commander Quinn… for endless brainstorming sessions over Harry’s Roadhouse nachos, close reads and incisive suggestions, help with the chores and late-night LOTR recitals, and most especially for agreeing to come out West on this perhaps ridiculous whim. I love you “all the much.”