Chapter Nine
Mary Magic


Dear Olivia ~

Please be informed you leave me no alternative than this missive to convey to you my displeasure with your lack of attention to the new romance you were supposed to be writing for me concerning Mary Queen of Scots and her true love, Boswell...Bothwell...whatever his name was, you know who I mean.

Since you are too busy "baking croissants" as you put it, and traveling all over the Internet searching for some mysterious painting by somebody who did not even have the good sense to sign his/her work, you leave me no choice but to call up my good friend Ms. Maddie and travel to Scotland with her, because maybe she can write a bodice-ripper about poor Mary that will sell like little golden hot cakes (i.e. waffles). Who knows? Who cares? I need a new closet of Chanel suits. Get off your backside. Be constructive or I give the book deal to Estella Themis.
Your Mother,
Posh Peyton
PS: I hear the Highlands are lovely this time of year! xox PPS: Stop being a hermit!







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