From the introduction, "Navigating the Middle of Things"

Being in the middle of anything can be awkward and even uncomfortable.

The middle lane during a traffic jam. The middle seat on an airplane. The unwitting and reluctant go-between when two other people are in a stubborn disagreement.

And possibly the most awkward and uncomfortable situation of all: middle school. That's generally those rough years between about ten and fourteen for folks with a different school system.

The middle installment in trilogies or longer story arcs can be challenging as well, though there are exceptions. In my opinion, The Empire Strikes Back, X-men: Days of Future Past, and Terminator 2: Judgment Day cracked the sequel/middle movie code especially well.

Another area where the middle can be decidedly strange is during the typical human lifespan. This has varied over time, geographically, and with different access to resources, of course. But in current-day average terms, in the neighborhood of our forties and fifties certainly qualifies.

Then we're often caught between our children and our parents, or at a point when retirement may be looming on the horizon but we're not there yet.

Don't get me started on the challenges and adventures of changes in our middle-aged bodies! Disappearing or new hair, things we can't eat or drink anymore, and aches and pains we never imagined in our youthful naivety.

Menopause. Arthritis. Somehow managing to injure ourselves while we sleep, of all things!

I didn't realize all the characters in this collection were middle-aged until after I put it together, and I have to admit I was tickled to find that common thread. Especially with the other common thread being fantasy.

While the characters in this collection don't dwell on many of our run-of-the-mill midlife challenges, or seem to have that much in common otherwise, they share a similar outlook in the beginning.

Life seems relatively calm compared to the storms of youth. Settled. Routine, for better or worse.

Even with the struggles of daily life constantly all around them, they think they have a pretty good idea what they'll be up against.

Until everything changes.

Each of these stories surprised me in the best way, meaning I laughed, giggled, or at least smiled when I realized what the little girl who runs the story machine in my head was up to.

She keeps the characters on their toes every bit as much as she keeps me on mine.

No matter what you're in the middle of—good, bad, or simply unpredictable—I hope these tales give you a much-needed break from the daily grind.

If you enjoy reading these stories even half as much as I did writing them, you're sure to have a fabulous time!

From "Beware a Dancing Mother-in-Law"

So Andy and I talked it over with her doctors and the staff at the assisted living, and we decided it would best for everyone if we keep her purse. Maybe get her a much smaller one—a cute model made some time in the 2010s rather than the Eighties—that would be easier to keep an eye on.

I'd geared up for a much bigger battle, to be honest. A shouting match at least, and the dreaded crying fit at worst.

And she did get upset that day, but I think she tempered it because Andy was there.

She saved the constant commentary for me.

See, Andy travels a lot for work, and I work from home and set my own schedule. So I end up visiting and taking her to appointments and such. After we liberated her from her purse (and us from the constant unpleasant surprises hiding inside), I heard about it for weeks.

How she hated to ask me for lotion, but she didn't have her purse. Same with a hairbrush, or lipstick, or a mirror, or breath mints, or toothpicks, or a nail file. Things I had hardly ever seen her use outside of her house before. But their absence was apparently quite dramatic, or she wanted me to think so.

Fran wouldn't hear of a new, smaller purse, either. She'd change the subject or tell me to return the ones I bought often enough that I finally stopped offering.

Then about three weeks ago, she stopped talking about her old purse.

Because she'd gotten herself a new one.

Not the same kind of huge luggage variety she'd carried before, which seemed like a good thing.

At first.

This was a cute little clutch more than a regular purse. In her same beloved navy blue, but not a whole lot bigger than a good-sized hardback book. It had a metal snap that looked like a tiny heart-shaped padlock. Opened out flat like a book, too, but I only saw it open one time before yesterday.

It was empty, that first time.

Lined with the prettiest silk fabric, but with the strangest pattern. The background was navy blue, of course, with thin gray lines running across it. And pale pink writing like I never have seen before ran all over the whole thing.

When I asked Fran if she knew what language it was, thinking it might have been something she came across in all her world travels, she shrugged.

Just a funny part of the design, she said.

She kept it clean as far as food, and there wasn't enough room to hide knives or too many bobby pins. I did her banking for her and made sure her account at the assisted living had plenty of money available. So I was pleased she'd found herself one she liked that didn't seem to cause any trouble.

I didn't think all that much about it until I heard about Dr. Crabtree going missing.