Stupid Cupid
Valentine’s Day is one of those holidays. Love it or hate it. I have generally hated it. First, my birthday is far too close to Cupid’s Day for comfort, so I never received anything special for hearts and flowers day. If anyone thought about it, it was, “yeah, this is for your birthday, and. . . uh, yeah, Valentine’s Day.” Or there were the guys who went on a rant: “It’s just a stupid Hallmark-manufactured holiday and I refuse to take part in crass commercialism. I mean seriously, flowers, candy. What’s the point?”
I guess the point was “good bye, Joe.”
Before I met my husband, Bob, my Valentine’s Day traditionally featured Cupid sticking out his tongue, laughing hysterically, mocking me, flying upside down, smacking into walls, shooting arrows, and missing. Or, hitting me in the you-know-what. Before Bob, I had my more than my fair share of romantic disasters that happened on Valentine’s Day. Including, but not limited to, two regrettable boyfriends who married other people on the 14th day of the second month of the year. Different years, but still.
My history is unfortunate for Lacey Smithsonian, the heroine of my Crime of Fashion novels. Because I like to share the misery. And sometimes, Lacey has the advantage—or disadvantage—of my experience. The latest book in my series, Shot Through Velvet, takes place in February and ends on Valentine’s Day. As we all know, the course of true love never runs smooth, so I’ve given Lacey a major case of Valentine jitters.
Her past history has Lacey convinced that that this Valentine’s Day will be another dis
aster. She wants to ignore the whole thing, but her sexy boyfriend Vic Donovan, has other ideas. But Lacey doesn’t have time to worry about hearts and flowers when a strange and colorful murder at a dying velvet factory in Southern Virginia takes her attention. Lacey dodges Cupid’s yearly disaster attack while delving into a murder where the victim has been dyed blue.
While she interviews and follows up on possible suspects at the factory, she also dances around an invitation to attend a Valentine’s party given by Donovan’s mother. The race is on to see whether the grim reaper or Cupid captures Lacey this February.
As for me, my luck changed when I came home one night from a long trip and found my husband had chilled champagne and spread a dozen red roses on my pillow. My heart danced a jig. And it wasn’t even Valentine’s Day.
Do you have any Valentine’s Day stories to share?
Ellen Byerrum is a Washington, D.C., news reporter, novelist and playwright. She also holds a Virginia private investigator’s registration. Her bestselling Crime of Fashion mysteries star a savvy, stylish sleuth: Lacey Smithsonian, a reluctant fashion reporter in Washington D.C., “The City Fashion Forgot.”