What A Bonanza
an excerpt

My name is Suzy Cavanaugh, and if you have an opening for a legal secretary who is efficient, cordial, and an all around energetic person, call me. I’m in the book. I need the job really, really bad.
I used to work for Attorney Armand Tate at Wylie, Tate and Petrie until Mr Tate retired and the firm let me go. I had done some work with their private investigator, Gus Cooley, who is a lovely man who really should take care of himself more. He gives me low-level investigation work to do on the side, but at Christmastime fewer people hire private investigators to follow their spouses to see if they’re cheating. I guess you get your Christmas presents, decide if they were the right ones, and then make up your mind if you want to catch the rat in the act. I’m speaking from the woman’s point of view here.
My friend, Billy Wakefield, the famous novelist, has also taken pity on me and has hired me to do research for his next book, a compendium of all things Bonanza. That’s a television show from back in the ‘sixties. It’s a little before my time – and his – but he loves the show. One of the cable channels is running the series from first show to last show in order, and part of my job is to record them for his collection. He has TiVo, so it’s a lot easier than those old VCR tapes where you had to watch carefully and push the pause button to edit out the commercials.
Anyhow, I’m learning a lot about this show. Please note that I am not a fan of westerns, but I have grown to love Hoss. What an unfortunate name to give a child! Ben Cartwright should be ashamed of himself for letting that happen. Oh, and there’s no Mrs Cartwright. The writers couldn’t have a wife for Ben because that would destroy the ambience of the all-male cast. I’m surprised that the Ponderosa is so clean. I thought all men were messy boys, dropping their clothes where they took them off. But then, they had Hop Sing working for them. Imagine how he had to do the laundry for them, mating socks, folding pants, ironing all of those shirts, and dusting off leather vests and hats. I’m thinking right now of all of the mud and grass stains on their clothes. How about the mud and goo stuck on their boots. What a mess. Maybe that’s what killed off Mrs Cartwright.
I have digressed, which is what I didn’t want to do – just yet. I always do, but this isn’t the time. I did want to tell you about my other job. Since the third week of November, I have been working at the Emporium as a Santa’s Helper. This is a thankless job that pays minimum wage and expects a cheerful face and kind words when children are screaming and parents are at their wits’ ends trying to get the little darlings to hold still and smile for the camera. The only job worse than mine is that of Santa. My guess is that he goes home, gets totally plowed, and cries a lot. He takes a real beating.
But back to Billy. Billy is finishing his fourth book in his CeCe Ryder series. It’s called STORM. It follows SUN, SAND, and SURF. I think it’s the best yet. Billy says that he’s doing the Bonanza book so he can think of another S word for a fifth CeCe Ryder novel. I told him not to worry. CeCe could come back with a new letter or a new theme.
“How about trees?” I asked him over dinner on Sunday, my one day off. “You could do elm, oak, maple, sycamore, locust.”
“Please,” he said, smiling at me the way he did that makes my knees wobble and my heart beat irregularly. “CeCe isn’t into the forest. She’s into the ocean.”
“So the next logical S word is Sea.”
“That’s a thought, and I will keep that in my heart because you thought of it.”
Am I that transparent? Do I look infatuated, am I drooling, or is he flirting with me? If so, is he toying with my infatuation, or is he falling in love with me? Please oh please, let it be the latter!