After studying at Newcomb College in New Orleans and at the London Polytechnic, Molly became a full time freelance journalist and photographer, and published over 80 articles in magazines like Fine Gardening, Victoria, Petersen’s Photographic, Flower & Garden, Family Circle, Woman’s Day, Country Living, and American Horticulturist. Many of her credits are listed on her web site: www.mollydean.com. Molly’s first love, though, is writing fiction. She has completed three novels for teens and tweens, including The Twilight Garden. She lives in the northeast Georgia mountains with her husband, her granddaughter, and a number of cats.
Twitter: Molly Dean@mollydean1
The Twilight Garden:
Ten-year-old Daniel Weston, son of a high-powered Atlanta attorney, expects to be bored spending the summer with his aunt and hated cousin Sabrina in the rustic mountain cottage belonging to his great-aunt Delilah. Instead, he finds himself enmeshed in intrigue: why is Delilah in Ireland searching for a missing granddaughter, and for what reason has the girl disappeared? Daniel also doesn't bargain for a blossoming friendship with feisty, adventure-loving local girl, Kat McDougal.
Kat shows Daniel his great-aunt's 'twilight garden,' a special place flaunting pale, fragrant flowers and silvery foliage. The garden, which has been allowed to grow wild, has a curious appeal. Things are "different" in the garden, magical.
Against the backdrop of night meetings at the garden, Daniel and Kat try to solve the mysteries involving the people that surround them. But Daniel, grappling with the shock of his parents' recent separation, starts to wonder what he can count on and if he can believe anything about anybody.
Can these two children find their place in an adult world even as they realize that they have no one but themselves to lean on?
The old man cleared his throat, unfazed. “Then I move to my more important news. Brace yourselves.”
“Oh, Lordy.” Kat said under her breath.
“I was correct in my assumption about Delilah. She is most definitely in the area. I saw her in the woods...just after dark.” He gestured behind him, and they both stared up into the trees.
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” Daniel insisted. In situations like this, Daniel’s father got a headache, and Daniel himself felt one coming on. “You can ask my aunt. Great-Aunt Delilah’s in Ireland in a town called Kiltimagh. We have an address, phone number, everything.”
“And besides...even if she had come back, what would be the point in sneakin’ and lurkin’ around her own property?” Kat said. “Why not just knock on the front door, and say, ‘Howdy, folks, I’m home’?”
“Spoken by two brilliant young people with fine, logical brains.” The colonel’s voice was prickly. “The problem is that Delilah and logic do not always go hand in hand. And you forget the most important point. I did, in fact, see her. She was wearing a gray cardigan. Delilah always favors gray. Says it helps her to fade into the background where she can watch and observe.” His voice had started to quiver. He sounded as if he might fall asleep at any time.
“Bet she never said anything like that,” Kat said. “And it seems mighty hot to be wearing a cardigan. Well, if she was watchin’ and observin’ like you say--she would have seen me, Cary, and Daniel eating fried chicken. Where were you then, colonel?”
“Under cover among the great debris pile in the woods.”
“What great debris pile?” Daniel asked. But nobody answered him.
“Ah me, it’s been quite a day,” the colonel said. “Pleasant evening, though. Quite stimulating. Just look at those stars. Makes one think of the gods, the old sky gods. And just look at that fine big oak yonder. They say all the trees are dying. We must save them...we must save them all.”
His voice rasped like an old foghorn, and Daniel gave him a glance. He got the uneasy feeling that the colonel in all his ancientness might suddenly die sitting in the chair. Daniel was feeling very small, surrounded as he was by darkness, people whose movements didn’t make sense, and the colonel’s talk of witches, sky gods, and dying trees. Great- Aunt Delilah’s way of life, he thought. His mysterious great- aunt who might actually be somewhere close by if Pepperidge were to be believed. And, if that were the case, she wasn’t looking for Maggie Dell at all. Sometimes he wondered if he could believe anybody about anything.