A Week from Sunday
Set in the 1930s American heartland, young and sheltered Adrianna Moore receives a double shock when her father dies and leaves his estate, not to her, but to his lawyer. When the unpleasant-in-the-extreme man promises to share his new inheritance as long as she marries him a week from Sunday, she bolts. Soon her car collides with lumberjack and bar owner Quinn Baxter’s truck, and her adventure is off and running to its tumultuous and romantic conclusion.
Adrianna must recover under the gentle hand of the town’s female doctor, work off her debt to Quinn by playing the piano at his bar, and hide from her suitor. She must also compete for Quinn’s affections with his housekeeper, the two-faced Lola. As Adrianna flourishes in her new community, she helps Quinn’s younger brother get over his own self-pity after an accident has left the young man without the use of his legs. She watches a romance begin between Quinn’s French-Canadian friend Gabe and Dr. Bordeaux. She participates in town picnics and a rescue effort at a fire once her suitor finally finds her and demands her hand.
Beginning with the well-worn cliché of the heroine catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, to the Snidley Whiplash nature of her antagonist (who actually says: “soon you will be mine!”), to distancing and distracting head-hopping viewpoints, this novel disappoints. There’s more to a feel for period than injecting details. A Week From Sunday is more costumed melodrama, complete with a violent hero, delusional rival, and too-stupid-to-live heroine… aw, come on now, DON’T go up those attic stairs!!!