There was an ache she couldn’t explain.

Riley had always been comfortable on her own. Not lonely. Self-contained was how she thought of her life. Most of the time, it worked.

Echo Canyon was the first place that made her question it.

She sat back in her chair, the canyon settling into that familiar end-of-day quiet. Laughter moved easily between them. Glasses on the table. A second bottle already open.

She watched them for a moment. Quinn had gotten there first. She always did. Riley could trust her for that. Val leaned forward, talking to Raven, who listened in a way that made people say more than they meant to.

Skylar, with that half-smile she never explained. Riley wondered if there was something out of place in the evening.

It hadn’t always been like this for Riley. There had been other nights that ended early.

The first night here had been different. She hadn’t planned for anyone to stay. She pulled the extra chairs out because it felt polite. Quinn helped her set out glasses she rarely used. Told herself it would be an hour, maybe two.

They had all arrived at the same time. Food and wine in their hands. Val brought an orchid. Skylar stood for a while before sitting, taking in the canyon like she was reading something written into it. Raven didn’t speak much. She watched. Aware of everything.

They talked the way new friends do. Easy at first. Careful.

Riley had expected it to end the way these things usually do. A pause. A polite “we should do this again.” Everyone heading back to their own lives. Had those been the wrong people?

At some point, she realized no one was checking the time. She glanced at her wrist, surprised her watch wasn’t there.

The light shifted. The canyon changed color in a way that felt less like weather and more like permission. The air cooled just enough to matter.

No one stood up. The place where things usually begin to wind down, no one moved.

Riley looked around the veranda. The same chairs. The same view. The same women.

No one talked about that first night. There was no need.

Val reached for the bottle without asking. Skylar turned her chair slightly toward the others. Raven added something quietly. Quinn exhaled. Riley heard it.

They weren’t leaving.

Riley could have ended it. She knew how. She’d done it before. But this time was different. She didn’t want them to leave.

She leaned back and let it continue. The conversation shifted. A little deeper. A little slower. Riley felt it settle in around them.

This space wasn’t something she had created.

It had happened anyway, and she knew she didn’t want it to end as she felt the ache lessen.

Riley lifted her glass, listening as the conversation folded into itself.

They didn’t know it then.

But that was the beginning of everything.

—-

What moment in this story do you relate to the most? Hit reply and let me know. ~ Marylee

Here’s your key to the veranda 🔑 See why the story never ends for Story Insiders. I’ve saved a seat for you!

Come inside

First — your gift. Find Yourself in the Stories

➡️ Inside are short snippets of the five Women from Echo Canyon, each one holding a mirror you may recognize. Women who are still becoming.

Get your copy here: LINK.

If you want to go deeper, my debut novel is available now on Amazon.

Click on the image to check it out

Whispers of Echo Canyon — Book 1 of the Women of the Canyon series — was published February 17, 2026, at 73. It’s getting reviews that make me cry (the good kind). Here’s one:

‘The canyon awaits your second book, Marylee, and so do I.’

→ Get Whispers of Echo Canyon on Amazon

Story Insiders stay with the women after the story ends.

→ Read the first chapters of Whispers of Echo Canyon. The rest will be available serialized, in a few weeks for Story Insiders only.

Table of Contents

→ And read Mirage of Trust, Book 2, in real time, chapter by chapter, before it’s published.

Mirage of Trust Chapters

→ Plus Private Journals from the women — the interior moments that never appear in the books.

Readers tell me they don’t want to leave when the chapter ends.

So I won’t end it.

Story Insiders is where you stay with the women.

You’ll read their private journals.

Hear the conversations left out of the chapters.

Stay on the veranda when they stay after dark.

You don’t have to say goodbye.

Stay with them.

You don’t have to leave when the chapter ends.

Come inside

I was three pages from the end when the canyon spoke.

I stopped dead in my tracks moments before I was ready to write “The End” of my debut novel.

Not because I didn’t know what came next. I did. The women were where they needed to be. I could see the ending clearly enough to write it.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was a single line I hadn’t planned.

The canyon spoke.

I sat there longer than I care to admit, reading it over and over. Because that wasn’t what I had been writing. I was stunned. Who said that?

I stepped away to consider what just happened. I’d achieved my goal of 80,000 words in Whispers of Echo Canyon. I’m impatient in most things I do. I wanted to be done.

The canyon spoke.

But it’s a place. Does this matter?

In a way, of course it did. The canyon holds the women. It shapes how they move, what they notice, what they ignore. But it’s still a place. A powerful one, but still something they walked through.

This was different.

This wasn’t Raven, my 70-year-old protagonist, listening. This wasn’t her intuition. This wasn’t her making meaning out of silence.

The canyon spoke.

And I hadn’t written anything that prepared for that.

I looked at the rest of the chapter, then back at that line. Because now I had a dilemma. I needed to make a choice.

I could leave it. Delete the line, finish the book, and no one would ever know it had been there. That was the easy way out. Was that what I wanted?

But once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. It was an intriguing thought. Something different. I like different.

The canyon spoke.

I wrestled with this for days. I debated pretending I hadn’t heard it. The need for a decision rarely left my thoughts.

To keep following my experience making this decision, pull up a chair. Story Insiders get every post and full chapters every week.

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Read more

“She called. Then the line went dead.”

Read it Here

Quinn returns to Echo Canyon on a red-eye, asking Riley for a ride from the airport with very little explanation.

Something has shifted in her life. She doesn’t say what it is. Riley doesn’t ask. The canyon welcomes her back.

But the silence between them says more than either of them is ready to admit.

Chapter 2 Mirage of Trust

She didn’t want to VID-call. They would see the worry on her face. The garden circle had always been Quinn’s backup family, and Riley sent a quick message instead

Hi gang. Quinn came in yesterday. She’s exhausted. Once she’s rested I’m sure she’ll want to see everyone.

The responses arrived almost immediately.

Is everything okay? I can make her some restorative tea, Val wrote.

Bring her by the stables when she’s ready. A quiet ride might help, Raven added.

Skylar’s message came next. I’ll be back by the end of the week. Jim’s in town if you need anything.

Riley thanked them and said she would be in touch soon.

Putting her comm down, she started her routine with her potted plants. It had been a hot summer, with rain only coming this past week. Many of her annual flowers were barely hanging on, but the kumquat tree and Mexican honeysuckle were doing well. The giant pine trees on the west side of her property provided shade for the pots by four o’clock, helping them escape the sun’s intensity as it built through the morning.

Riley carefully inspected her garden, noting how her summer snaps had transformed into tall, vibrant beauties since the recent rain. The vinca were doing well too.

Her hands slowed in the pot. Ben would have noticed this right away. She wouldn’t have met so many people so easily, and she certainly wouldn’t have her garden. Ben had an easy way of showing people the path by introducing them to others. He could teach everything himself, but he didn’t.

As she thought about Ben, Riley lifted her head and peered through the back doors, as if expecting something. Her expression shifted to sadness as she remembered what Quinn had looked like at the airport, and when she had gone into the bedroom to rest.

Riley realized her hands were still hovering over the pot, clutching the pruners. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the plant and delicately pruned the longest branches of the vinca deep inside the foliage, knowing this would encourage new growth and result in a fuller, more robust plant. As she worked, she noticed the first signs of fresh shoots emerging from within, a reward for attentive care.

Satisfied, Riley gathered the best cuttings of summer snaps and vinca blooms to arrange in a vase. Intrigued, she added a few branches of Mexican honeysuckle, curious to see how they would fare in water. With a sense of contentment, she went back inside to brew a pot of coffee, hopeful that Quinn would wake soon and feel somewhat refreshed.

I’ve never seen Quinn like this. Her shoulders rounded, diminishing her height by inches. So reluctant to say anything. She’ll tell me when she’s ready, she always does. But God, I hope she’s okay.

Riley’s thoughts broke off at the sound of the guest room door opening.

“Hi! You’re up! Did you have a good rest? I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like some?”

“That’s nice, Riley. It smells good. Don’t get up. I can get it.”

Quinn opened the kitchen cabinet door and saw her favorite mug. Reaching for it, she added, “Yes, I’m starting to feel better. I feel like I haven’t slept in days. Can I top off your coffee? Maybe I’ll have one of these bananas.”

“Yes, please help yourself.” Riley held up her cup for a refill. How long has it been since you slept a full night?”

Quinn shrugged, not tasting her coffee. “Days without sleep. Weeks with poor sleep.”

Quinn pulled the comm from her pocket, glanced at it, and set it face down on the counter.

She hated that she wanted it to light up.

She hated that it didn’t.

Riley noticed but chose to slide past it.

“Well, now that you’re here, I’m sure you’ll sleep like a baby. I messaged the women to let them know you arrived.”

Quinn looked up, startled.

“You didn’t say anything, did you?”

Riley lifted her hand in reassurance. “No. I just said you came in and were really tired. I told them we’d be in touch when you’re ready to see everyone. They all sent their best.”

Quinn seemed satisfied and turned toward the veranda, leaving her mug on the counter.

The next morning started quietly.

Quinn did not come into the kitchen until nine. She poured herself some coffee and took a long drink, looking out toward the veranda. Riley sat in a deck chair, staring into the canyon. She didn’t seem to notice Quinn behind her.

“Good morning.”

Riley shifted in her chair and looked up. A quick smile replaced the blank expression on her face.

“Hi! Sorry. I didn’t hear you come out. I guess I was lost in thought. Did you get some sleep?”

“Yes. In fits and starts. My best sleep was actually from seven until now.”

“Well, you look a shade better. I’ve been up since six. You know me. Up with the sun. I baked some blueberry muffins, and there are still bananas if you’re ready for something to eat. It’s such a lovely morning here on the veranda, I decided to enjoy it.”

“Thanks, but not yet. I want to see your garden. Did you cut those flowers this morning?”

“Not today. Yesterday I was cutting flowers back, and there was no need to put them all into the compost. We’re fortunate the heat has pulled back. We’re finally out of the hundreds.”

“I didn’t even notice, Riley.”

Quinn looked down at her coffee. She used to notice everything. It had been her job. Now the days slipped past like they belonged to someone else.

Riley could see she was holding back tears.

Quinn stood and moved to the top of the stairs, hesitating as if she wasn’t sure she could go down. Riley moved over next to Quinn and took her hand, leading her down the veranda steps into the morning light, shadows stretching across the garden.

She’d spent the summer creating small naturalized areas. Pots tucked between boulders and ground plantings, succulents catching the long eastern sun.

They wandered through the garden and Quinn paused beside a gray vase filled with aloe.

“I love what you’ve done,” she said quietly. “It feels… settled.”

Riley caught the weight in that word.

“Thanks Quinn. It’s a labor of love. Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get some food.”

Riley leaned toward Quinn, Riley stayed close as they climbed the steps.

They took their sandwiches into the great room and snuggled amidst the pillows on the couch. Quinn’s message alert sounded and she froze, then glanced at her watch like time could protect her. She looked up with tears in her eyes.

Cautiously, Riley asked, “Are you up to telling me what’s happening?”

The words came fast, tangled with tears. “How did I end up here? I’m supposed to be living the life, fully retired and traveling the world with my soulmate.

“Now I’m lost, alone, and devastated.”

Riley quickly set her plate down, moved closer, and drew Quinn in while she sobbed. She rubbed her back and whispered slow, soothing words until Quinn’s heaving stopped and she could push back into the sofa. Riley offered the box of tissues she always kept handy.

“I’m sorry, Riley. I thought I was done crying.”

“Oh, Quinn. Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you’re here and not alone. You know I’m always here for you. I would have come anywhere if I knew what you were going through.”

“I know, Riley. And I’m sorry I’m keeping you in the dark. I just can’t get into it yet.” Feeling a little guilty, Quinn gave Riley’s hand a squeeze. “Soon, I promise.”

After lunch, Quinn went back to her room. Riley was surprised that her usually energetic friend was taking another rest, but whatever had happened had taken its toll on her. She suspected Quinn was using the naps as an escape but hopefully it would work and restore Quinn to her normal self.

Riley puttered around the house, checking her auto-payments and online accounts, then emailing a few architecture clients about upcoming meetings. She wasn’t used to staying in so much, but there was no way she was going to leave Quinn alone now. She wished she could talk to Raven but she would not betray her trust. She was relieved when her friend came out several hours later.

“Hi! I’m glad you’re up.” Riley looked carefully at her friend to see signs of rejuvenation. She surged on. “Ben called while you were asleep and invited us over for happy hour. I said maybe you’d prefer he comes here, if you’re up for it.”

“I think I’d like that. I enjoy Ben. And I appreciate you letting me stay with you. How about I make something for his visit? We’ll sit outside?”

“Of course. I’ll call Ben and let him know to come over. Is an hour too soon? I had some more fresh blueberries, so I made a tart, and maybe we can get some cheese ready. I’m sure he’ll bring something over.”

Laughing slightly, Quinn rubbed her stomach. “You’re making me hungry again.”

“Well, I was just going to have a G&T, if you’d like one.”

Quinn sat at the breakfast bar, rubbing her eyes. “I can’t believe I slept again. I was out. Sure, the drink sounds refreshing. The tart smells really good.”

Riley made the drinks and brought them to the stools at the breakfast bar. The view through the back window stretched over the expansive backyard and the wooded area beyond. “I think we’re all set. Ben will be here shortly, so you woke up at the right time.”

Quinn shifted, wanting the conversation to stay on lighter topics, trying to distract herself. “What’s up with the gang? I haven’t been very reliable in staying in touch with our friends.”

Riley looked away for a moment. Not even me.

“They have been busy. Raven..” She glanced toward the back door. That’s got to be Ben knocking. He never knocks. Must be all proper for you. He’s just in time for the blueberry tart.”

Ben arrived with two cloth bags in hand. He set them on the counter, glanced at Riley, and at her subtle nod stepped toward Quinn with his arms out.

Quinn paused, not knowing if she was ready for a hug, even from someone who cared deeply. She took one step forward as Ben erased the distance between them and pulled her in tightly.

“Welcome back, Quinn. We’re glad you found your way home.”

Quinn slumped, and Riley was quick to shift the moment.

“Quinn, look what Ben brought. Loads of goodies. And Quinn, this one must be for you, the red Zinfandel you always ask for. What a spread we’re going to have.” She smiled. “For just the three of us.”

While Riley was displaying the food, Quinn and Ben had both turned toward her and, being the same height, draped an arm around each other’s shoulders. Quinn leaned gently against Ben, steadier now after his emotion-filled greeting.

They each grabbed what they could and settled on the veranda. Riley refreshed her and Quinn’s drinks and brought a fresh G&T out for Ben.

“I thought we could save the wine for the tart. They’ll complement each other well.”

The conversation stayed relaxed, local happenings, the garden tour Riley had attended, plans for shopping with Val and Skylar over the weekend.

Finishing her drink and setting the glass down, Quinn glanced at her watch before asking, “What happened to Whitman after he was ousted from the Centennial?”

Ben picked up the story first. “You heard that Eleanor, his wife and chair of the event, basically laid him out in front of the entire community, right?”

Quinn nodded, and Ben continued. “Well, if the land were the law, their divorce would have been final right then. Between that and the loss of community support for, well, anything, he’s gone, and good riddance.”

“That must be a relief for Eleanor. I can’t imagine living under the thumb of a person like him,” Quinn added, sinking further into her deck chair’s deep cushion.

Riley and Ben exchanged a glance, catching the potential meaning behind what Quinn had just said.

Riley added, “We’re all better without him.”

“Well, ladies, even though we haven’t opened the wine yet, I think I’m going to call it a night,” Ben said. “I’m going to the upper ranch tomorrow for the weekend. Donnie needs some help mending the fences, and I told him I’d come up. Maybe we can make a date with everyone at my house when I get back, if you’ll still be here, that is.”

Quinn looked away.

Catching herself and wanting to move away from Ben’s comment, she asked Riley, “What’s that structure out on the tree line? I hadn’t noticed that before.”

Riley glanced at Ben at Quinn’s rapid change of subject and quickly brightened. “Oh! I didn’t show you that. We, well, I mean Ben’s crew built a pagoda for al fresco dining and evening moon watching. It faces east so we have a great view, especially on full moon nights. Hey Ben, how about we check for the next full moon for happy hour? Depending on what time it rises,” she finished, chuckling.

Quinn leaned back in her chair as Riley spoke. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Quinn, why don’t you sit still while I walk Ben out to his gate. I’ll be right back.”

“As lovely as it is out here, Riley, I’ll start taking these things inside. I’m ready to call it a night too.”

Ben quickly grabbed the glasses and a tray. “Eh, we’ll make short work of this right now. Charlotte taught me better than this, to leave dishes on a table. Then you two won’t be left with the cleanup, just the leftovers,” he added, chuckling. “The best part of a get-together.”

Riley and Quinn made short work of the final cleanup. As Riley washed the last glass, looking out the window, she said softly, “Quinn, you know you don’t have to do this alone.”

Quinn opened her mouth as if to speak, then shook her head no. She turned quickly and ran to her room.

The last thing Riley heard was the creak of the old floorboard right outside the guest room door.

Then the door closed firmly.

Riley stood still in the quiet kitchen.

Quinn’s comm was still sitting on the counter.

Face down.

There are things Quinn hasn’t said yet.

And questions Riley is choosing not to ask.

If you feel that pull to stay a little longer,

to sit in these moments with them…

you don’t have to leave.

Stay Inside

Five women in their sixties and seventies standing at life’s crossroads, refusing to let their best years be behind them.

Step Inside

Mirage of Trust is Book 2 of the Women of the Canyon Series.

You can start here without reading Book 1, Whispers of Echo Canyon.
But if you want to meet the women from the beginning, you can find it on Amazon.

Or, become a Story Insider and stay inside Echo Canyon as the story unfolds.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

She Called. Then the Line Went Dead

Quinn is home, but something has changed. Riley sees it and chooses to wait.

Chapter 2

She Didn’t Ask

Riley senses Quinn is hiding something and chooses not to push.

Coming Next

Chapter 3 Mirage of Trust

Coming May 8, 2026

You Don’t Have to Leave

I didn’t think it would feel like this.

Everyone keeps saying I’m lucky. I know that. I do. Not many girls from our Sabákari people leave for college, especially not the girls, and definitely not where I’m going. I’ve heard that enough times now that I can repeat it back without thinking.

Read more

I’m back inside Echo Canyon.

There’s a moment in this chapter that matters more than the airport, the drive, even the arrival itself.

Quinn doesn’t tell Riley what happened. Riley doesn’t ask.

I didn’t plan that. It showed up while I was writing, and I recognized it immediately because most of us have lived some version of it. Not a dramatic version. A quiet one.

The version where something has happened, something that shifted you, and you’re not ready to say it out loud yet. Not because you’re hiding it, but because you don’t fully understand it yourself. Or because saying it will make it real in a way you’re not ready to face. This latter reason has been true in my life and I believe it’s true for Quinn, too.

And then there’s the other side of that moment.

The friend who can feel that something is off. Who notices the hesitation, the change in tone, the way someone holds themselves together just a little too tightly. The person who could ask, and maybe even wants to ask, but doesn’t.

That kind of restraint doesn’t come from distance. It comes from knowing.

Riley knows Quinn well enough to understand that pushing for the truth too soon would close something instead of opening it. So she does something harder. She stays present without demanding answers. She makes space for something she can’t yet see.

I think we’ve all been both women at different times in our lives. The one holding something back because we need time to understand it ourselves. And the one who senses it in someone else and has to decide whether to reach in or simply stay beside them.

There’s a kind of trust in that space that doesn’t get talked about very often. The quieter kind that says, you’ll tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll still be here in the meantime.

That space, that pause between “I’m fine” and the truth, is where a lot of real life happens. It’s uncomfortable. It’s uncertain. And it’s often where relationships either deepen or quietly pull apart.

In Echo Canyon, it’s where things begin to surface.

On Friday, I’ll be sharing something I’ve never written before. Raven’s private journal. It won’t be part of the free posts.

Step inside

If you haven’t read the first chapter of Mirage of Trust yet, you can read it here ⤵️

Chapter 1

After throwing a few groceries into Quinn’s condo refrigerator, Riley headed north toward Sabáka airport. She had stocked the fridge automatically, as if Quinn would walk into her own kitchen later that morning. As if nothing were wrong.

Quinn had switched the vid off before she spoke.

“Riley. I’m coming in on the red-eye tomorrow morning. Could you pick me up?”

Her voice had been tight. Controlled. As though each word had to pass inspection before leaving her mouth.

Riley didn’t sleep much after that.

The sun rose to her right as she drove. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, even on the horizon. A normal desert morning. It always struck her when she left the canyon. The sharp contrast between the temperate climate in Echo Canyon and the barren stretch of road in the desert leading to Sabáka.

She tried to focus on the road, on the steady rhythm of tires against pavement, on anything other than the hesitation before Quinn had said goodbye.

She put on a podcast. Turned it off thirty seconds later.

Ben had told her not to fret.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

Riley didn’t want soon enough. She wanted now.

A message buzzed as she pulled into arrivals.

We landed early. I’ll meet you at the curb.

Riley eased into the first open space.

When Quinn stepped through the automatic doors, swiping her palm past the biometric reader, Riley felt something drop inside her.

Her friend looked smaller. Tensed. As if she were holding herself together from the inside.

Riley lifted the hatch, set the suitcase inside, and pulled Quinn into her arms.

“I’ve got you. Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”

Quinn pressed her face briefly into Riley’s shoulder. Then she stepped away and slid into the passenger seat without speaking.

They drove in silence.

Halfway home, Riley glanced over.

Tears streamed down Quinn’s face. No sound. Just steady.

Riley reached across the console and rested her hand on Quinn’s forearm.

Quinn did not pull away.

The guilt sat heavily in her chest. Not for what had happened. For the silence. For not calling. For not telling Riley the truth.

She tried to steady herself. Tried to take something from the warmth of Riley’s hand. Something familiar. Something she could still trust.

They climbed toward Echo Canyon as the sun cleared the peaks. Wind nudged the SUV as they rounded the bend.

“That’s odd,” Riley said quietly.

“What is?” Quinn’s voice sounded thin.

“Clear sky and a push like that.”

Quinn looked at her. “Since when does land push back?”

Riley almost smiled. “Often. When we pay attention.”

They drove the rest of the way without speaking.

Instead of turning toward Quinn’s condo, Riley continued up the road.

Quinn noticed. “This isn’t my turn.”

“I made an executive decision,” Riley said. “The guest room’s ready. You always sleep better there. I’ll make something warm. We’ll decide the rest later.”

Quinn studied her for a moment, then nodded.

“You traveled light,” Riley said as she lifted the suitcase.

Another nod.

Inside the old house, a familiarity passed through Quinn. She was in her comfort zone. She desperately wanted to sit down on Riley’s comfortable couch and tell her everything. Quinn paused at the bedroom door.

“I think I’ll lie down,” she said. “See if I can find a human somewhere inside this body.”

Riley swallowed. “There’s water on the nightstand. And an apple.”

Quinn gave the faintest smile. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime.”

The door closed softly.

Riley stood in the hallway for a moment, listening. The house felt different. Even the refrigerator hum seemed louder.

She stepped outside.

The canyon was bright now. The wind moved through the mesquite. Not strong. Just present. It lifted a dry leaf and spun it once before dropping it.

Smiling, Riley pulled out her comm and typed two words.

She’s here.

Ben replied almost immediately.

Good.

Riley slipped the comm back into her pocket and looked across the valley.

Whatever had followed Quinn home was here now.

And Echo Canyon does not ignore what enters it.

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By the time the others left, Riley’s old house had gone quiet, save for a few evening creaks.

The last of the mugs were rinsed and turned upside down by the sink. Someone opened the back door to the veranda without saying anything, and one by one, they drifted outside and down to the fire pit.

The fire had been started earlier in the evening. It didn’t need much. Just a small shift of wood, a nudge to the embers, and it came back to life.

No one said they were sticking around.

They just… stayed.

Raven settled into her chair and looked around at the others. “Funny, isn’t it? All week I kept thinking, why do we always end up the last ones? And then I realized…because we like it that way.”

Quinn smiled into her mug. “At the library, the whole meeting was polite. You know the kind. Everyone saying the right things, no one really saying anything. The real conversation didn’t start until it was just Skylar and me. I almost left. If I had, I would’ve missed the part where she told me beginnings come when the room empties.”

Skylar let out a soft laugh. “I was only half-serious. But there’s truth in it. I used to think leaving early meant I was being considerate. Now I think staying might be the more honest choice.”

Val tipped her chair back slightly, balancing without thinking. “At the dance hall, Raven and I stayed behind to help clean up. We grabbed the brooms and ended up waltzing across the floor. No music left, no one watching. Just us, laughing like we were twenty again. I couldn’t tell you what songs they played earlier, but I’ll remember that dance.”

Riley ran her finger along the rim of her mug, the motion slow, thoughtful. “I used to leave first. I told myself I was just ready to go home. One night I stayed, and Ben was still outside, tending the fire. I sat down for a minute, and somehow that turned into a conversation I didn’t know I needed. Turns out the best part hadn’t even started yet.”

Raven glanced toward the edge of the canyon where the desert night pressed close, quiet but present. “The canyon does that too. Remember the trail ride? Everyone else pushed ahead, but when Skylar slowed down, the rest of us followed. That light… it didn’t show up until it was just us out there. Like the canyon was waiting.”

Skylar nodded, her voice softer now. “That was the first time I stopped trying to keep pace with everything around me. I let things meet me where I was instead. I think that’s why these moments feel different. They’re not rushed. They don’t belong to anyone else.”

Val leaned forward, her tone shifting, not heavier, just more grounded. “It’s more than the time. It’s what we get from each other when we’re not trying to get somewhere else. I told you I’d trade my stars for their city noise, Skylar. I meant that. These moments… they give something back.”

Quinn nodded. “People think staying late means holding on. But it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like choosing. Choosing not to leave the part that matters.”

Riley reached for the teapot and poured slowly, steady hands, no need to rush. “It’s like the garden after pruning. Once you clear out what isn’t needed, what’s left has room to breathe. Staying does that. It leaves space for what’s real.”

No one spoke for a while after that.

It wasn’t the kind of silence that needed filling. It was the kind that settles in comfortably, as if it’s been invited. The desert carried on in its own rhythm, a bird calling once, then again, a breeze moving through as if it had somewhere to be but wasn’t in a hurry to get there.

Raven broke it first, a small smile returning. “So maybe we’ve had it wrong. We’re not the last to leave.”

Skylar lifted her mug slightly. “We’re the ones who choose to stay.”

There was a soft clink as the mugs met, nothing formal, nothing announced.

Just a quiet agreement.

And as the night deepened around them, no one reached for their keys.

Stay Inside the Story

This story isn't a full chapter.

It's a moment.

The kind that happens after most people have gone home.

The new chapters start soon.

You don’t have to leave.

There’s a very clear path when you start writing online.

At some point, you’re supposed to take what you’re doing and turn it into something teachable. Structure it. Name it. Build it into a course or program others can follow.

I understand that path. I’ve spent years in business doing exactly that. It’s familiar. It works.

And I’ve felt myself pulled in that direction more than once while writing my novels.

Each time, something doesn’t sit right.

I notice it before I can explain it. A kind of resistance that shows up in my body. Then my mind catches up and starts making the case anyway. I can do this.

That’s usually how it works.

I started writing fiction because I couldn’t stop thinking about the women I wrote about in my last container gardening book. They stayed with me. After I published it, I missed their stories.

So I brought them to Substack and started writing chapters in public. One each week. Just to keep going.

Somewhere along the way, I began noticing how I work inside a story. What I follow. What I ignore. What I trust without fully knowing why.

And I started to see the conflict.

The more I tried to shape this into something structured, something teachable, the more it pulled me out of the work itself. It stopped feeling like writing and started feeling like managing.

I’ve done that before.

I’m in the middle of writing my second novel now. That’s where my attention is.

So I’m not building a course. I’m writing the book. And staying with it.

It Only Takes One

There are days when I know exactly what I’m going to do.

The next step is clear. I don’t have to think about it. I just have to sit down and begin.

And then something comes in.

An email. An idea. Something I wasn’t looking for catches my attention.

Just like that, I can see it. How it would work. Who it would help. Where it could go.

That familiar feeling starts to build.

This is it.

It feels real in that moment. Almost more real than what I had already planned to do. More interesting. More alive.

I’ve followed that feeling more times than I can count. Built things from it. Let it take the lead because it felt right in the moment.

Sometimes it was.

And if I follow it, even a little, the day shifts.

Not all at once. Just enough to move me away from what I had already decided mattered.

That’s been my pattern for years. Like a kid in a candy shop.

Message to self:

It took over a year to figure this out.

Now I discard it immediately. Don’t look. Don’t peek. Don’t save it for later.

And get back to writing my novel.

Have you ever been completely clear on what you want to do… and still felt pulled away from it by new ideas?

I’m writing the book. And staying with it.

To see it unfold, you’re in the right place.

Stay with the story

Three years ago, I built a scene in Canva for a book I was writing called Riley’s Garden Oasis. This isn’t a normal gardening book. I decided to make it a story with characters. Creative nonfiction. Every chapter of the book has an image I created in Canva. I approached each one to represent where Riley lived and what her world looked like.

I pulled in photos of pots I had used with clients over the years, one at a time. Pots, overflowing annuals. Color combinations I knew worked because I’d grown thousands millions in the desert.

I think there were about forty-five elements in the image below, by the time I was done.

Nothing matched at first. I moved and resized them, trying to make them sit in the same space. I didn’t expect perfection. It just needed to be enough for me to believe it.

That image became part of Riley’s book and has always been my favorite. It’s Ben’s house and Riley lives next door. Novels don’t typically have images and I don’t plan to have any in my Women of the Canyon series.

But recently, someone questioned my use of AI images in my posts.

I decided to do an experiment.

I gave ChatGPT (aka, Niros) the image above and said, “Replicate it.” It came back exactly like mine. That makes sense. Niros just copied it. But it made suggestions to improve it and I said ok.

Here’s one.

This got me thinking. What else could Niros do with the image?

So I asked, “Zoom back from the house and make room for a fire pit and rustic comfortable chairs around it. The fire is lit with gentle smoke coming up and there is an open gate.”

In Echo Canyon, at both Riley’s and Ben’s houses, there is a fire pit. I explained to Niros that this is Ben’s house and he has an old rocking chair there. I asked to replace one chair with the rocker.

I liked this image a lot, but realized that it needed the people. We had created the main characters of my Echo Canyon world, just so I had the likenesses if I ever wanted them. I gave them to Niros.

And here is the final result.

I could have never done this on my own. Even in Canva.

Niros (AI) created this for me in less than 15 minutes. We created one scene in my world of Echo Canyon - just for fun. Yes, doing it my way, I will use it in posts, as it builds interest and is engaging.

Why not?

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Welcome to Echo Canyon.

A neighborhood where five women in their 60s and 70s are refusing to let their best years be behind them.

Come, pull up a chair. Most stories weren’t written for women like us. You read and enjoy them, but you don’t quite see yourself inside them.

That’s why Echo Canyon exists

When the chapter ends, most readers leave.

You don’t have to.

Stay inside the story

This Isn’t a Newsletter. It’s a Place.

You’re entering a place where women like you are seen, and where the stories begin to feel like your own.

Five women. One canyon. Real lives, fully lived.

You’ll see yourself in one of them the moment you meet her. Riley, Raven, Quinn, Skylar, and Val. Five women who refused to disappear.

And if you’re like most readers, you won’t want to leave.

A reader wrote,

“I didn’t expect to see myself in these women. But I did. Not who I used to be. Who I still am becoming.”

That’s the point of Story Insiders.

Not more content. Not extra stuff.

Just not having to leave them.

Choose Your Chair

FREE READERS are invited to the Front Porch

Come in. Stay as long as you want. No charge. The perfect place to get to know these women… and maybe yourself, too.

This is where you meet them.

Story Insiders is where you stay.

Free subscribers receive:

✓ Doses of Fiction - scenes from the women’s stories I’m currently writing.

✓ Life’s Threads — reflections that connect their stories to yours

✓ First chapters of Whispers of Echo Canyon — free to read now

Stay inside the story

FOR STORY INSIDERS

— The Veranda is in the back

Not everyone comes back here. But you are welcome. Most readers leave at the end of chapter. You won’t have to. You'll see the full view of Echo Canyon and stay with the women. Your new friends.

Paid Subscribers, aka STORY INSIDERS, receive everything a free reader receives, plus:

📕 For Story Insiders, the stories never end. Even when the chapter is done.

🏜️ Come into Echo Canyon and sit with these five women. Somewhere in their stories, you’ll recognize your own.

🪑 Stay, as they share their deepest, most private thoughts in the pages of their journals.

Stay inside the story

I’m Marylee Pangman, 73, and I published my debut novel in February 2026.

Before fiction, I spent 30 years as a desert container gardening expert in Tucson, Arizona. I founded The Contained Gardener in 1998, built it into a business that people in my community still talk about, and sold it in 2012. I published two books on desert container gardening. And then fiction came along like a loud knock at the door.

I write about women in their sixties and seventies who are not done yet. And, you know what? I'm not done yet either.

Baby Boomer women are not often given center stage. I decided to change that.

I’ve planned a five-book series. One book for each woman named above.

Echo Canyon is the neighborhood I built for the women I wish existed in real life and for the readers who have been waiting to find themselves in a story.

I also write The Potted View on Substack. A desert container gardening newsletter I’ve published since 1998. Some of my readers have been with me for almost 30 years. Those women are the reason I knew this audience existed before I wrote the first word.

Welcome. Your chair is waiting for you on the veranda.

Join the women on the veranda

Whispers of Echo Canyon — Book 1 of the Women of the Canyon Series

At 73, Marylee Pangman published her debut novel. In a near-future desert community on the western edge of possibility, five women find each other at the moment life asks them to begin again. This is the book women in their 60s and 70s have been waiting for.

→ Buy Whispers of Echo Canyon on Amazon

What Reviewers Are Saying

“A book is a gift you can open again and again, and it creates the same magic. — Garrison Keillor. So it is with Marylee Pangman’s book. Her book is beautiful... I could not put this book down. This book is charged with magic and myth.”

~ Connie, United States ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Brilliant. Just brilliant. Marylee Pangman has a delightful turn of phrase... I feel like I am part of this canyon now, and want to know more about how my own story unfolds within it.”

~ Jane, United Kingdom ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“There’s no putting this one down... I stayed with the women of Echo Canyon longer and longer, savoring the easy yet vibrant dialogue and sensual descriptions of gardens, landscape, and relationships. The canyon awaits your second book, Marylee, and so do I.”

~ Jeri, United States ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Stay inside the story

I’ve been quiet since December.

Not because I stopped writing. Because I stopped talking about it. I had good reason. I was preparing Whispers of Echo Canyon for release.

That took everything. And it’s only been 12 days since it started selling. I can’t immediately rev back up to the pace I held while editing Whispers. That kind of push isn’t sustainable.

Today I’m saying it clearly: I’m drafting Book 2.

Mirage of Trust is Quinn’s story. You met her in Whispers.

For thirty years she worked in Homeland Security. Identity protection. Border security. Espionage cases. Controlled. Precise. Unshakeable.

Until she wasn’t.

When I finished Whispers of Echo Canyon, I knew Quinn’s steadiness had a crack in it. She called Riley from Hawaii, after returning there from Australia, and asked to be picked up at the airport. The line went dead.

That was the moment the canyon stood still.

For the next six weeks, I’m focused. Drafting. Tightening. Locking in the first arc. No wandering into side projects. No marketing rabbit holes. Just writing.

Here’s how April will work.

Chapters 1–3, published weekly starting in April, will be fully free. Anyone can read them and settle into the story. Subscribers, followers, the casually curious.

Beginning with Chapter 4, the door closes. The rest moves inside Story Insiders, my paid subscribers.

Readers told me they want to hold my book in their hands, not skim past it. That’s what I’m building.

If you haven’t met these women yet, Whispers of Echo Canyon is where it begins. https://mybook.to/WhispersofEchoCanyon

For free subscribers: To come inside, see the private journals from these strong five women, hear bits about my writing process and read the chapters first, upgrade to Story Insiders today.

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A private moment with Raven, fitting when my debut novel, Whispers of Echo Canyon, is released.

Raven’s Secret Journal entries are usually only for Story Insiders. But since Whispers of Echo Canyon just launched, this one’s for everyone.

Consider it an invitation into Raven’s thoughts and her recently published story, following her towards a choice she never expected to face again.

Raven, the star of my debut novel, is the steady one, the therapist, the horse trainer, the woman who makes room for everybody else. But in her first journal entry, she says something she’s never said out loud. I’m not sure she’s even admitted it to herself.

It’s not dramatic. It’s a simple sentence. But it holds a truth she’s been avoiding.

And once a woman says the thing she’s been avoiding, the rest of the story starts to move.

Months after deciding she was done traveling, she received an offer from the National Equine Therapeutics Council that would increase her prestige and pull her far from Echo Canyon for three months. She can do it. Of course she can. But what the women around her see is the real tension. Should she?

If you’d like to read the story, The Choice that Shifted the Ground, click below.

Below is Raven’s journal from that day

Raven’s Journal

The organizer said, “If you cannot come to us, perhaps we should come to you. Would you consider hosting the training in Echo Canyon?”

I did not tell them everything.

Sam thinks I am deciding between two good paths, but he does not understand the weight of being seen again. Not just in Echo Canyon. Nationally.

I felt something move in me when I saw that message. A small, sharp reminder that I once had a life outside the canyon walls. Competitions. Clinics. Rooms where my name meant something.

I told myself I was finished with that. And maybe I am. But the offer sat in my chest all day like warm sun, refusing to cool.

I also did not tell them how tired I am sometimes. Not from the work. The work is simple. Horses are honest. People are not. Building this training center means I am responsible for every life that walks onto this land. I chose that. I do not regret it. But the thought of leaving, even briefly, made me see how much rests on my shoulders.

They think I turned down the travel because I am rooted here. That is true. But it is not the whole truth.

The truth is, I am afraid of returning to the person I used to be. Not because she was unworthy. Because she was never still, she chased everything. She said yes without thinking. She measured her worth by the size of the rooms that wanted her.

I do not want to slip back into that woman by accident.

Hosting the program here would be different. I could stay on my land, with my people, with the horses who know my hands. But even then, I wonder what I am opening the door to. Attention. Crowds. Expectations. All the things I worked hard to quiet.

Shikáni believes in this. I felt that in her voice. And I trust her. If I say yes, it will be because of her steady presence, not because I want the spotlight.

Maybe that’s the pivot I am making now.

Not away from opportunity.

Toward the life that fits me.

I will not show this to anyone.

Not because I am hiding.

Because some decisions must be worked out in silence.

~~

Want more of Raven?

This journal entry is a glimpse into the private moments that don’t make it into the published book. But Raven’s full story ~ how she got here, what she chooses, what it costs ~ is waiting for you in Whispers of Echo Canyon.

If you want more journal entries from Raven and the other women of the canyon, come inside as a paid subscriber.

Subscribe now

If this is your first time reading one of my Daily Dose stories, Welcome. From time to time, I write a five-episode arc of micro-fiction drawn from the women of Echo Canyon. Raven, Riley, Quinn, Val, Skylar. Women in later life finding what comes next.

This story is about Raven’s decision that didn’t end when the fiction did. It opened something larger. If you’d like to read the full fiction arc first, you can find it here.

Life’s Threads is where I step outside the scene and talk about what the story stirred. The questions beneath it. The parts that feel uncomfortably familiar. And, occasionally, the ways my own life mirrors what my characters are navigating.

This story’s reflection grew out of Raven’s story but landed somewhere much closer to home. The offer from the National Equine Therapeutics Council for a 3-month training program forced her to stand between two versions of herself, at 70 years old.

I think about how often women in our sixties, seventies and eighties find ourselves in that same place. Capable of doing more. Tempted to say yes. But aware that the life we want now doesn’t always match the life we built before.

These pivots are not theoretical. They shape our days, our energy, and the work we choose to stay close to.

If you’re navigating one of these crossroads yourself, I hope this article hits home.

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Raven was not afraid of the offer. She was torn. She could go. She could say yes to prestige, visibility, influence. She could step back into a life where she was always on the move, always needed somewhere else.

Many women would.

Many of us have.

Because we were trained to say yes to anything that looked like recognition. Or, we want to prove it to ourselves.

The difference is between what we can do and what we should do, especially later in life when the stakes are not ambition anymore. The stakes are our energy, our peace, the shape of our days, and the people who rely on us.

But here is the truth of what we need to be honest about, out loud.

Just because we are capable does not mean the opportunity is meant for the woman we are now.

Can you relate?

Every few months, someone suggests I create another online gardening course. They mean it kindly. They tell me people would sign up. They remind me how good I am at teaching and how much money it could bring in. And they aren’t wrong. I could do it. I have the experience, the audience, and all the materials sitting right there in my files.

But whenever I start to lean that direction, I feel the shift. The more I pour into gardening work, the less space I have for my fiction. The women in Echo Canyon need my full energy, not the scraps left over after building slide decks and filming demos. My writing voice goes quiet when I overload my plate, and that silence tells me everything I need to know.

There was a day this fall when I actually opened a new document and started outlining a class. Ten minutes in, I felt it. That tug backward. That sense of drifting into a life I lived fully for decades but no longer want to center. I sat there for a minute, recognizing the old pattern, the old pull. Then I closed the document.

Not because I couldn’t do it.

Because it didn’t belong to the life I’m building now.

That is the heart of these later-life pivots. The choice between the path that still fits and the one that doesn’t, even if we’re perfectly capable of walking it.

Raven found the same middle path many women carve out quietly.

She didn’t refuse the future. She reshaped it.

She chose a version of the opportunity that matched her current life instead of one that belonged to her past.

Hosting the program in Echo Canyon was not the obvious choice.

It was the honest one. And they went for it.

If you’re staring at your own pivot, or if life has recently handed you a choice that doesn’t fit the woman you’ve become, I hope you remember this.

You’re allowed to create a third option.

You’re allowed to choose what’s best for the life you have now.

You’re allowed to say no to what once would have been a yes.

Raven didn’t bend herself to meet the offer.

She let the offer bend toward her.

That is a later-life power few of us were taught to claim.

But it’s ours now.

I wrote this micro-fiction series while I was in the middle of a similar reckoning myself.

Below are how my experience shaped the stories on this page. My stories have layers I only share inside. And the private moments of the women in my books. The pages these women never meant anyone to read. If you want to sit closer to them, I invite you to become a Story Insider.

Read more

It’s here.

Whispers of Echo Canyon is now available.

This book is for women who sense a chapter closing and another one opening, and are brave enough to listen.

Thank you for being part of its beginning.

I’ve been asked for a sample of my debut novel, Whispers of Echo Canyon. The Prologue and first two chapters are available on Substack but honestly, if you want a good taste of the book, I would read Chapter 2, The Lost Whisper. You can read it here:

If these women speak to you, I hope you’ll join them for the whole journey. Whispers of Echo Canyon is now on sale on Amazon. Other options will be available shortly.

If you do read a copy of my book, please write a review on Amazon. It helps other readers find it.

Thank you.

Marylee

It’s been a long road to get here.

2 Years of writing. Months of editing. Weeks of wondering if anyone would care about five women over 60 who refuse to be invisible.

Monday, February 17, Whispers of Echo Canyon will be released on Amazon.

But, you can pre-order the Kindle book now at $2.99 (regular $5.99). That price goes up after launch.

Pre-order here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GKZJHP9J

Raven’s returning home after 40 years to build something that will outlast her.

Riley left her award-winning architecture career feeling hollow.

Val lost her soul after her husband died and her purpose when she retired from nursing.

Skylar’s running from a genetic legacy she can’t outrun.

Quinn’s world is unraveling.

They meet in Echo Canyon. They find friendship. They discover that life at 60+ isn’t an ending, it’s a beginning they finally get to choose.

If you’ve been following along, thank you. If you’ve ever felt invisible, this one’s for you.

The ebook is available for pre-order now at $2.99 (regular $5.99). That price goes up after launch.

Pre-order here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GKZJHP9J

I’m also doing a live Substack session on Monday, Feb 17, 11 AM MST to celebrate the launch and talk about writing this book. I’d love to see you there.

Thank you for being part of this journey. It means more than you know.

Marylee

P.S. If you know someone who want to read about women who refuse to disappear, please share this with them. Word of mouth is everything for a debut novelist.

Raven.

Riley.

Skylar, Val, and Quinn.

Each of them came to Echo Canyon carrying weight,

Regret, grief, reinvention.

But what they found?

Was each other.

Not the kind of friendship that texts “you got this.”

The kind that shows up with coffee and a shovel.

That listens without rescuing.

That reminds you who you were

before the world told you to shrink.

These are the Women of the Canyon.

And their circle?

It’s not casual.

Because in the second half of life,

friendship isn’t a bonus.

It’s the beginning.

Meet the Women of the Canyon

Raven

Everyone thinks Raven should have slowed down by now.

She’s 66.

She’s carrying a legacy.

And she’s still fighting a man with money, lawyers — and no reason to stop.

But Raven doesn’t fight for pride.

She fights to prove she matters.

To the land.

To the story.

To herself.

So if they’re telling you it’s too late,

Show them Echo Canyon.

Show them Raven.

Show them what happens when the fire still has somewhere to go.

RILEY

People think Riley already had her life.

Friendships long and deep.

An award-winning business.

A family where it always felt like home.

She arrived in Echo Canyon questioning if her story was done.

But, she keeps listening.

To the women.

To the canyon.

To the part of herself that refuses to be honest.

If you think your story is behind you,

Come to Echo Canyon.

Come find Riley.

Watch what begins when a woman stops pretending she’s finished.

SKYLAR

Skylar’s always been the steady one.

The planner. The fixer. The person who doesn’t flinch.

People call it strength.

But mostly, it’s performance.

In Echo Canyon, she doesn’t have to perform.

No smile to manage the tension.

No quick answer to make it easier for someone else.

She’s still strong —

but it’s different now.

Quieter. Truer. Hers.

If you’ve spent a lifetime holding it together for everyone else —

Come meet Skylar.

Watch what happens when strength stops being a show,

and starts being a choice.

VAL

Val is just fine. Or at least that’s what people believe.

She hosts.

She laughs.

She keeps the conversation moving.

But some women don’t fall apart.

They disappear quietly inside their own lives.

Val came to Echo Canyon with a longing she couldn’t name and a hunger she didn’t think she was allowed to have.

And still, she wants more.

So if you’ve been calling it “fine” for years,

Come to Echo Canyon.

Come find Val.

Watch what happens when wanting becomes real again.

QUINN

Quinn is too careful.

Too controlled.

Too composed.

But control wasn’t a reaction.

It was a skill — sharpened over years in a world where mistakes had consequences.

Quinn didn’t come to Echo Canyon to unravel.

She came to stay intact.

And then the canyon gave her women

who didn’t ask her to explain —

only to stay.

If you’ve been holding your life together with sheer will,

come meet Quinn.

Watch what softens when you finally feel safe enough to set your guard down.

_______/^\______

This is where their stories begin.

Not in their twenties.

Not in the years when they put themselves last.

But here.

In Echo Canyon.

With each other.

With the life that still wants them.

These women aren’t here to decorate a story.

They are the story.

Echo Canyon is where it starts again.

Whispers of Echo Canyon is now on sale on Amazon. Other options will be available shortly.

This is only the beginning.

Subscribe now

The women are sitting on Riley’s veranda, talking about what comes next. Not in a dramatic way. No big declarations. Just that familiar question many of us carry after 55, after 65, after 75.

What do I want now?

And am I allowed to want anything at all?

That conversation isn’t fictional to me. I’ve been in versions of it more times than I can count. With friends. With colleagues. With myself.

What struck me as I wrote the week wasn’t the idea of writing. It was how long people live with the urge to create something quietly, while telling themselves they’re too late, too tired, or too sensible to begin.

Especially women.

Somewhere along the way, wanting something that doesn’t have a clear purpose starts to feel irresponsible. Writing can feel frivolous. Self-indulgent. Like something we should have outgrown by now.

So we push past it.

We stay busy. We stay useful. We stay practical.

And the pull doesn’t go away.

In the story, Skylar is the published author. Everyone knows it. No one questions her credentials. But even she isn’t sure what the end of this next book will look like. Not because she lacks experience, but because some work isn’t about outcome first. It’s about listening to what’s asking for your attention.

That matters.

Because for most women, the question isn’t “Can I write?”

It’s “What would it mean to stay with something honest now, even if I don’t know where it’s going?”

That’s the moment I wanted to capture this week. The shift from asking Should I? to admitting I can’t not.

Not because anyone is watching.

Not because it has to turn into something.

But because ignoring it costs more energy than beginning.

I don’t think writing starts with ambition.

I think it starts with noticing what keeps coming back, even after we’ve talked ourselves out of it.

That’s what I wanted this week to hold.

I created a short, free resource called 3 Steps to Finally Start Writing the Stories Only You Know. No program. No pressure. Just a way to get something honest onto the page. Here’s a link to this guide which should take 2-3 hours to work through.

This Dose of Fiction was written to explore the “what’s next” question through the women, instead of answering it myself. To understand more about what more is inside this, become a Story Insider today

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