Free Tossing the Caber (The Toss Trilogy) by Susan Craig

She straightened her shoulders and stood up. “I’m going home now. I want to sort out some stuff at the condo. Tell Cocoa he’ll have to wait until next time for his run.”
    “I’ll do that. Take care, Diana.”
    “Right.” Giving Sally a quick hug, Diana left. It was time to build her new life.
    Driving back to the condo, she sucked in the fresh morning air. It was amazing, how much better a good cry could make a person feel. Strength and purpose filled her once again. Thoughts, unformed but positive, swirled in her brain. She refused to look too far ahead. First she would deal with her condominium and her wardrobe.
    Entering the sterile perfection of her living room, she pulled back the draperies and let the sun stream in. Grabbing the sharp-angled sculpture from the coffee table, she began a discard pile.
    By the end of the day, most of the items dear to the heart of her mother’s decorator, every power suit she owned, and quite a bit of tasteful, restrained jewelry had made it into the pile. Still in her worn jeans and T-shirt, Diana marched into Catholic Charities and dropped three neatly packed bags on the donations counter. She beamed as the woman there ran her hand reverently down the lapel of a classic navy blazer. “Can someone give me a hand? I have more in the car.”
    A volunteer followed her outside, and together they covered the d onations counter and part of the floor with bag upon bag of Diana’s discards.
    The label in a suit jacket caught the volunteer’s eye. Touching it, she frowned at Diana. “Are you sure you want to just give all this away? There’s a consignment shop a few blocks from here and—“
    Diana smiled so wide her cheeks felt tight. “Believe me, I am absolutely sure.” She hadn’t anticipated the rush of euphoria getting rid of her old life would bring. If only she’d known, she’d have done this a week ago.
    The woman behind the counter pressed a receipt on Diana. On her way back to the car, she flicked the slip of paper into a nearby trashcan. Tax deductions be damned. She was starting fresh.
    The next day, she window-shopped. Diana had been raised to know and appreciate quality—and she did—but now she was searching for those items that somehow resonated with her true self. Quality? Yes. Conventional? No.
    She had a fabulous time all by herself, wandering through pricey decorating boutiques, inexpensive import warehouses, and everywhere in between. She was comfortable with the clean modern lines of her basic furniture pieces, but that didn’t stop her from checking out every antique shop in town.
    At day’s end, she relaxed on the patio of her favorite Mexican resta urant, margarita in hand, enjoying a spectacular sunset. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun. She was beginning to understand which items caught her eye, and why. I like quality materials, but I want them in strong, clear colors. Maybe that was the result of a life lived in careful mistake-proof neutrals. Maybe it would change with time. But tomorrow, when she went out to buy, she had a good idea what she would be bringing back home.
    Once her home looked less barren, Diana went through much the same process with her wardrobe. She had learned long ago how to hide her curves. Now she turned that around and chose clothing that tastefully celebrated them. Clear, strong colors continued to catch her eye, but so did black, white and silver-grey.
    She learned to recognize styles that enhanced her feeling of power and found others drew on a deep well of womanliness that was anything but gender-neutral. And accessories—no more tiny button earrings and demure pearls. She found her taste in jewelry was bold… and expensive.
    This was fun, not work—there was no need to rush through it. So she contented herself with a small selection of stunning high quality pieces, and for the first time in her adult life, looked forward to shopping again soon.
    Friday morning, Diana stood in her closet, considering