Books
Books
Lisa's published novels are available on line and at your local retail book store. Just ask the manager to order.
The Gold Standard is a light-hearted romantic mystery from Barbour Books, Feb 2009
Healing Grace is an emotional journey of sacrifice and reconcilliation from Zumaya Publications, June 2009
Meander Scar is a story about coming home and the consequences, coming in March 2010 from Black Lyon Books
NEW outlet: Madison Avenue Inn, Cascade, WI Phone: 920-528-1391
ALSO AT: Ocooch Books & Libations LLC Phone: 608-647-8826
145 W. Court St.
Find recipes and reader questions below for The Gold Standard
Watch for upcoming updates and an excerpt from Meander Scar
The Gold Standard
School teacher Judy Winters and her opinionated cat, Carranza, set out to uncover the murderer of her ecologically-minded aunt. Who could have wanted Louise dead? Surely not her elderly plaid-loving friend Ardyth, or the handsome young man renting the farm next door. And just why had Judy’s boyfriend been visiting Louise? When Judy learns the story behind missing Alaskan gold, all bets are off. Neither chickens, cows, tornadoes, or the bathroom remodelers are going to stop Judy from discovering the truth.
NEWS FLASH!!
Carranza really thinks he's something now...see him in his very own interview on Pets and their Authors on Sunday, April 19. But don't let on to him that he's important - his little furry head is already big enough!
Healing Grace: a novel
Grace has a secret. Just like her aunt, and her grandmother before her, she can help people with her touch. Usually the gift comes at a price, but one she’s willing to pay—until her husband came down with a fatal illness. How much was Grace willing to give then? When she couldn’t help him, she ran—straight into the life of another terminally ill man with a son who reminds her of everything she lost. Can she redeem her soul by helping this man? Falling in love again while knowing she’ll lose him encourages Grace to battle her way out of her self-pity back into the light of redemption. This time, when God asks “how much?” Grace can say, “Everything.”
Healing Grace is available in both paper and electronic print
Read an excerpt:
Grace took a breath and stopped upon entering the little house. She heard the realtor drive away with a little zip and crunch on the gravel driveway and felt a moment’s panic.She set down the sacks she’d toted in from her green Subaru on the dusty braided rug. The truth of real estate agent’s comment before handing over the key became painfully obvious.
“The place hasn’t been opened up in a number of months. The last occupant was ill. It will need a little TLC.”
Grace, after her brief, cursory tour before signing the papers, had asserted she could clean it up herself. Maybe she’d been a little hasty.
She noticed the pile of toys and the weight bench in the corner near the open stairway.
Passing through the doorway on the far side of the long, narrow living room, she found the kitchen—the sad, neglected kitchen, definitely not the heart of this home.
“Who paints a kitchen puke green? And what’s up with the dancing hot peppers stencil?Honestly.”
She had painted her
“God made trivets for a reason,” Grace said in exasperation.
She turned on the faucet, wiping away the attached spider webs. Warm orange gunk came out accompanied by gurgles and forceful interrupted spurts. The liquid spewed thickly around the stained sink. At least it didn’t smell bad. She cheered when it soon cleared up. Just call me easily pleased.
The real estate woman had checked the lights to make sure the electric company had “turned her on.” Grace tried to chuckle. It came out like a zebra snort, a zebra that smelled lion and was trying to warn the herd.
“You’ll be all right.” The plump, business-like agent had meant to reassure her. “It’s a ways out of town but not too far, and the neighbors are good people. In fact…” (as she looked down at the drive and stirred some gravel with her brown patent pump) “…ah, this used to belong to one of the brothers. The house is part of the original homestead. You’ll be okay.”
She pressed a card into Grace’s limp hand. “Now, here’s my card. You just call…” Conveniently forgetting Grace had not yet applied to the local cooperative for telephone service, “…if something isn’t right.”
Grace was tired of hearing about all the things she didn’t know so couldn’t bring herself to ask what the woman meant by “one of the brothers.” She figured she would find out in good time.
It was a risk, settling down and opening a new bank account—a whole new life—in
She shook her head. No, there wasn’t anyone left who needed to know, who cared. She got out a pad of paper from her leather handbag and toured the little one-and-a half-story cottage making notes of the supplies she would need.
Cleaning first, then fixing.Definitely painting. And figuring out some furniture. Something to sleep on. Do I even have a hammer? Talk about starting from scratch.
By the third day and the fifth trip into town, Grace decided to treat herself. She had passed the cute little chalet-style building that housed the local library often enough without stopping in. She could take the time today.
“An afterthought—you know—a whad’ya call it, mother-in-law’s cottage? Built on the edge of a big apple orchard,” Marie Richards, the town’s librarian, told Grace when she went to apply for a card. “The
Most of the trees had been torn out and not replanted, she continued. Grace
Grace smiled humorlessly. They didn’t even have to match.
Grace was so intent on cleaning she didn’t notice company coming until the pounding on the front door startled her. She let out a screech, nearly tumbling off the kitchen chair on which she had perched to brush cobwebs from the living room ceiling and walls with a broom. A peek through wavy glass at her visitors, revealed more than one—a delegation of two.
One and a half, she amended as she pulled off the threadbare T-shirt covering her hair and opened the oak front door to a man and a small boy. “Good afternoon.”
The man was very tall and terribly gaunt. He leaned on a crutch and stared at Grace with narrowed eyes, frowning as though he had not expected to see her. The black-haired little boy held a pillowcase with something lumpy inside in one hand and with the other held the man’s hand. She thought she recognized them from the other day at the bank when she went to sign the closing papers for the house.
She had been surprised to find no one besides the real estate agent and the bank’s vice president at the meeting. The former owners had not been able to stay and meet her, but everything was in order, she had been told.
The man cleared his throat and spoke at last, breathlessly. “I—we—wanted to see that you were all right,” he said, glancing down at the child then back at her face.
“Yes, thank you, I’m fine. Last occupants apparently left in a hurry,” Grace replied.
“Um, right. I guess the place is a mess. If you need some help with anything…” His voice fell away. Grace guessed the unspoken “you can call me” would be a meaningless phrase, and not just to her. His sallow face turned even more pale. Perspiration trickled down his temple, even though the air was cool. His left arm and leg started to quiver. Sweat rolled past the startling white rictus of a scar on his temple, along the premature age line around his eyes
They stared at each other on the porch until the silence became uncomfortable. The man’s eyes were the color of the Morning Glory pool at
She looked down to the child. He stood behind the man’s legs, clutching the bag to his chin, and peered back at her, an anxious expression creasing his forehead.
“Eddy, give Mrs., ah, Mrs…”
“Runyon.”
“…Runyon the bread.”
The miniature grubby hand thrust the pillowcase in Grace’s direction.
“Thank you, Eddy. I’m Ted Marshall,” the man said, apparently recalling they had not exchanged names. “And this is my son, Eddy.”
Eddy stuck his head sideways from around his father, eyed Grace solemnly, then disappeared again.
Grace held the bundle. “Nice to meet you both. Grace Runyon.” She did not offer to shake hands. “Thank you for the gift.”
“I…can…work a bread…machine,” Ted Marshall gasped. He wobbled and reached to steady himself against the jamb, holding up a hand when Grace came through the door and reached for his arm. “I’m all right. Just give me a second.”
“Um, thank you, Mr. Marshall—and Eddy—for the bread. Would you like to come in and sit for a minute?” The case felt cozy in her hand, warm from the fresh-baked loaf and the child’s hand.
“Ted. Call me Ted. We have to get back.” He straightened and clenched the crutch. “I have an appointment, but thanks anyway. We’re just over there…” He indicated a hedge of tall scraggly bushes. “…on the other side.”
They turned and clumped across the gray-green warped porch boards. Eddy looked back through the open door. Grace followed his gaze and realized she had the abandoned toys piled in the middle of the room. He turned and bent to grasp his father’s crutch to help him manipulate down the steps.
Grace watched, her mouth pursed. How old was he? Maybe four? Too young to have to help a parent just get around.
She looked up at the ceiling, free of webs but showing cracks in the white paint.
“I will not, Lord! No! You brought me here for a reason, but not that. Please, not yet. I just want to be free for awhile! Away from sickness, and everyone else’s hurt. Let me heal myself, first.”
She sank down on the empty floor and watched an ant carry a load that should have
Later, Grace ate her dinner, butter melting on the re-warmed loaf of bread, sitting at the now-immaculate chrome kitchen table. She thought about her visitors. Ted was obviously the former occupant; she wondered about the nature of his illness. He had received some terrible injury, evident by the scar on his head, but was it related to his need for a crutch? Usually, a head injury wasn’t referred to as an “illness.”
Well, her neighbors were none of her business. Not that sweet little boy with the poignant eyes. Certainly not his enigmatic father. And no way was she interested in knowing where Eddy’s mother was.
She cleaned up after her solitary meal and started scraping off layers of old paint.
Underneath a bubbling cowboy-hatted jalapeno dancing alongside the back door, she leaned closer—the walls had once been sunny yellow.
Purchase The Gold Standard - call the publisher direct 1-740-922-7280 or contact me: lickels-at-netzero.com
Releasing soon on Amazon
Check out my books on Goodreads:Standing on the lawn in front of her house, her erstwhile boyfriend held out his arms to her. “Judy! Babe! You didn’t return my calls. I had to see if you were all right.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Judy noticed Carranza beginning to slink along the front porch railing with the same look in his eye that she’d seen when he hunted cowbirds.
“Graham.” She kept her distance, putting out a hand to ward him off when he reached out to hug her. “I wasn’t expecting you. What can I do for you?”
“Ouch! Babe, that’s cold. Is that any way to greet your fiancé?”
Judy focused on a point just behind Graham’s head where Carranza came to a halt. The cat’s tail began to twitch. She moved past Graham, trying to draw him away from the porch railing. Instead, Graham appeared rooted to the spot. He folded his arms and twisted his hips to keep her in sight.
Should she warn him about Carranza’s occasional lapse in judgment and tendency to pounce? “Fiancé? We haven’t talked about marriage, Graham. I’m even debating whether or not to return to Lewiston. In fact, I’m looking into other work. We only dated a couple of months, and not even exclusively.”
“Hey. I never dated—well, just once. Or twice. But those were country club functions and you weren’t available. What was I supposed to do? Come on, Judy. I put a lot of time and effort into this relationship. I came out here trying to make nice. I know how much
you want to stay out here, and I do, too. . . . Owww!”
Judy watched dispassionately as Carranza flew through the air with the greatest of ease and landed, claws fully extended, on Graham’s back.
“Judeeee!”
Judy managed to pull the cat off the twirling Graham. Carranza immediately went limp and slipped out of her grasp. He charged a few body lengths away and turned and looked at them both through haughty eyes before he sat and began to repair his ruffled coat.
“Judy!” Graham spun around again, his face a mask of anger.
“Here, Graham. Stop that. Let me see.” Judy ordered him to sit on the step of the porch while she went to find some lotion and bandages. She returned to find Graham hunched over.
Graham stared at her, his mouth pouty. “What’s with that animal? Did you train it to be an attack cat or something?”
Judy motioned for him to pull his shirt off so she could look at the scratches. She knelt behind him to wipe at the bloody slashes. “Of course I didn’t train Carranza to attack. He’s got a mind of his own.”
Graham reached back and grabbed her wrist, stopping her ministrations. “We need to get some things straightened out.”
Judy leaned back on her knees and wrested her arm from his grip. “You’re right. We do.” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to marry you.” She looked at him in time to notice the dark color suffusing his cheeks, his widened pupils and flaring nostrils indicating anger.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “A lot of girls like you. You shouldn’t—”
“I don’t want just any girl! I need. . .I want you.” Graham heaved himself up abruptly, hauling the torn shirt back over his head. He stepped a few paces into the yard and waved an arm. “Look at all this, Judy. You can’t live here alone. Take care of this land. You need
someone to help you. Now, be reasonable.” Carranza had not moved. Graham hesitated when his trajectory would have taken him near the cat. “Come back with me. If you do, we—we can hire someone to work the farm. Yeah. . .that might work. We’ll live in Lewiston and come back here whenever we want. You’ve got a good job. You don’t need to get another in this podunk town. And I can take care of us both if you don’t want
to teach anymore.”
Hart’s Focaccia Bread
By Hand:
1 c. warm water
1 pkg dry yeast
Let these two work until bubbly
Add: 3 1/4 cups flour, more or less, to make dough
1 T sugar
1 tsp salt
2 T. Extra virgin full fat olive oil
Variations: add ¼ cup dried tomato to the dough, and/or flaked onion, or dried chili peppers to taste.
Knead 12-15 minutes until elastic – pinch of dough doesn’t break from ball.
On a greased cookie sheet, press dough into a firm, flat 12-inch circle. Let raise 20 minutes.
The topping:
Focaccia can be flavored with various herbs and cheeses. The key is to use a good olive oil base.
To approximately ¼ cup olive oil, add your choice of herbs to taste. Some variations include 2 T. grated Parmesan or Romano, or finely grated yellow cheeses, minced garlic clove, up to 2 tsp. rosemary or other herbs such as oregano and basil as desired.
Poke holes evenly across the top of the circle, approximately at one-inch intervals, using the round handle of a wooden spoon. Brush your olive oil mixture thickly over the top.
Bake in preheated oven set to 400 degrees for about 15 minutes, until browned.
The dough can also be made in a standard bread machine:
7 ½ ounces warm water, 3 cups bread flour, 2 T. dried milk, 1 T. sugar, 1 tsp. salt, 3 tsp. margarine or butter, 2 tsp. dry yeast.
When dough cycle is finished, remove from pan, knead on a floured surface a couple of minutes, and proceed as above.
Church Potato Salad for a crowd
Yield: approximately thirty servings.
10 lb potatoes – peeled either completely, or 2/3 if using red potatoes, to keep some color. Cut into 1 inch or so cubes and boil 15-20 minutes – test for doneness with a fork. Don’t over cook or you’ll have a starchy mess. You can also cube potatoes after boiling – cook longer if leaving uncut.
Add: 2 cups salad dressing/mayonnaise, 1 large sweet Vidalia onion, finely chopped, 8-10 hardboiled, peeled and chopped eggs, 10 chopped radishes, 3-4 stalks chopped celery, T. salt to taste, 1 T. dry mustard to taste, 1 tsp. pepper to taste
Ruth Harris’s Carrot Cake
1 1/3 cup good canola or salad oil
2 c. sugar (using raw sugar makes for a rich caramel flavor)
3 c. grated peeled or washed well fresh carrots
4 eggs, slightly beaten
Sift together:
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. salt
May add 1 cup chopped pecans, ½ cup golden raisins if desired
Combine first four ingredients in a large bowl; stir in dry ingredients, beating well. Pour into well greased 9 x 13 pan.
Bake in a pre-heated 350 degree oven for about an hour. Cool thoroughly before frosting.
Serves 12
Cream cheese frosting:
1 8-oz package softened cream cheese
¼ c. softened margarine or butter
Approximately 2 2/3 cups powdered sugar, enough to make a creamy frosting
½ tsp. vanilla
Beat well. Frost thickly when cake is cool.
Ardyth’s Real Lemonade
Ardyth makes a quart at a time, but you can easily double the recipe.
She squeezes four large lemons, or five medium-sized ones, into her quart jar, adds about half a cup of sugar and fills it up with water and ice cubes, mixing well. She’s also been known to slice fresh strawberries into the jar, as well as crushed fresh mint leaves.
Judy’s Chicken Casserole
Judy had always heard that salt was bad for you, and she had never heard of savory, and couldn’t find paprika or pepper in Louise’s kitchen. Besides, they were such small amounts, what difference did it make?
If Judy followed the recipe, she would have made this:
1 large chicken breast, cooked and cubed
2 T. diced onion
1 large carrot, peeled and sliced
1 large potato, peeled and cubed
1 can of green beans, any style
1 can 98% fat free cream of chicken soup
1 1/2 tsp each: salt, parsley
½ tsp savory
½ tsp. course ground black pepper
Sprinkle top with paprika
Mix in a 1 ½ quart casserole dish. Bake in 350 degree oven for 45 minutes, or until potatoes are tender. Serves 5
Reader’s Guide Questions for The Gold Standard by Lisa Lickel
February 2009
1. Judy had a fascination with family. Why do you think so? Think about your own family and how you relate to them, both in the past and today. How did/do they influence you?
2. Why did Judy so firmly believe that Louise’s death was not accidental?
3. The Gold Standard is a story about losing and finding. What were some of the things that were lost and found?
4. Bryce and Ardyth had a complicated history. How did their upbringing play into their decisions and misunderstandings? Did you understand and agree with Ardyth’s choice as a teenager? What about Bryce’s decisions?
5. What was the real reason behind Louise’s death?
6. Who were the suspects and what were their motives?
7. Who could Judy trust? Should she have trusted Hart? Who would you have trusted?
8. Why did Judy wait so long to go back and explore the bomb shelter after the tornado?
9. What was the significance of the family diaries? Do you think Louise read her mother’s diaries, and if so, why did she keep the secret?
10. What role did Carranza play?
11. What was the treasure?
12. Were you surprised by anything in the story?
13. How important was the setting?
14. What standards did each of the characters choose to live by?
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