{"product_id":"your-oasis-on-flame-lake-isbn-9780449002988","title":"Your Oasis on Flame Lake","description":"Best friends fast approaching forty in the small Minnesota town of Flame Lake, Devera and BiDi were recently voted “Least Changed” at their twentieth high school reunion—a label neither one finds very appealing. For each craves a change in her life: Devera desires a break from her humdrum marital routine; BiDi longs to reconnect with her distant fourteen-year-old daughter (the only girl on the high school hockey team), not to mention jump-start a sex drive stuck in neutral. So when Devera’s husband decides to fulfill his longtime dream of opening a nightclub in his basement, Your Oasis on Flame Lake arrives not a moment too soon. Nothing fancy, it’s just a BYOB joint where you can hang out, sing, dance, tell jokes, and be yourself. But then an unexpected crisis throws both families into chaos, forcing them all to take stock of their lives—and learn the power of forgiveness.“Hypnotizing . . . Readers won’t want to leave Flame Lake.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Minneapolis Star Tribune\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“WONDERFUL . . . FUN . . . As lovely as anything you’re likely to read . . . A lot of laughs and a little wisdom.”\u003cbr\u003e—Detroit Free Press \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“CAPTIVATING . . . THIS BOOK SHOULD DELIGHT. . . . Her characters are clever and offbeat, like Garrison Keillor’s or Fannie Flagg’s.”\u003cbr\u003e—Booklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Finely wrought characters populate Landvik’s intricately textured tale. . . . Landvik illuminates what is essential, without seeming to, and pushes us to break through hard surfaces to a higher level of understanding. All the while, we are grandly entertained. . . . She now takes her place next to Maeve Binchy, Jon Hassler, and all the great storytellers who bring you to the heart of their home places. She carries you with especially delicate detail, amazing resonance, humor and brilliant images.”\u003cbr\u003e—Minneapolis Star Tribune\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Quirky characters are a dime a dozen, but truly believable, lovable ones are not—a fact that makes Landvik’s latest slice of American life a genuine pleasure.”\u003cbr\u003e—Kirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Written with warmth, wit, and tart dialogue, the book engages big themes (love, friendship, loyalty, betrayal, and the quest for meaning). . . . Landvik’s quirky and passionate characters, and her ardent determination to give them dignity, make this a heartwarming story.”\u003cbr\u003e—Publishers WeeklyLorna Landvik has worked as an actor, a comedian, and a speed typist in the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. She lives with her husband, two daughters, and their dog, Petunia.\u003cb\u003eDick\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt our twentieth high-school reunion last summer, BiDi and Devera were \u003cbr\u003eboth voted \"Least Changed.\" They pranced around the stage giggling, \u003cbr\u003epumping their cheap little trophies in the air like they had won the \u003cbr\u003eStanley Cup or something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBiDi did look good, standing on tiptoe in red high-heeled shoes with no \u003cbr\u003ebacks, her tight little body squeezed into this red leather dress. (\"It's \u003cbr\u003eleatherlike,\" she explained later while we stood eating Triscuits and \u003cbr\u003eColby cheese at the buffet table, \"and I sweat three pounds off every time \u003cbr\u003eI wear the thing.\")\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDevera looks the same in the face--she should, the jars of Noxema she \u003cbr\u003epickles herself in--but you can't tell me her body looks like it did when \u003cbr\u003eshe was doing back flips on the Rebelettes squad. When she's got her \u003cbr\u003eclothes off, you have to wonder: How does skin pucker around a butt like \u003cbr\u003ethat? When did her breasts take that drop in altitude?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf I asked her, she'd probably say something like, \"If you don't like the \u003cbr\u003eview, don't look.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe thing is, I do. I'm just curious about gravity's toll is all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOnce we were dancing at King Olaf's Hideway and I said whoa, no more of \u003cbr\u003ethat shimmying--all that loose flesh is going to pop me in the face. She \u003cbr\u003ejust about popped me in the face after I said that, but instead she \u003cbr\u003egrabbed the car keys right out of my sports-coat pocket and gunned out of \u003cbr\u003ethe parking lot, the gravel under the wheels flying like confetti. I had \u003cbr\u003eto hitch a ride home with Glen Pauley, an insurance agent who likes to \u003cbr\u003etalk about his work, as if normal people are fascinated by actuarial \u003cbr\u003etables and annuities.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDevera married me the day after her twenty-first birthday. We both were \u003cbr\u003egoing to White Falls State, but she had been thinking of transferring her \u003cbr\u003ecredits to \"somewhere exotic\"--the Sorbonne or the University of Cairo or \u003cbr\u003eUCLA\"--but then her dad, Evan \"Fair Shake\" Bergdahl, was robbed and \u003cbr\u003epistol-whipped (with a toy gun, but Dad Evan said when you're smacked in \u003cbr\u003ethe face you can't tell the difference between real and fake). After that, \u003cbr\u003eDevera put her plans of exotic study on \"temporary hold\" and decided to \u003cbr\u003estay home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Always remember,\" Devera reminds me, holding up two crossed fingers, \u003cbr\u003e\"Daddy and I are like this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI always answer back with my standard joke. \"Easy for him, he's not \u003cbr\u003emarried to you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey caught the guy who robbed Dad Evan; he was holed up in a shack on \u003cbr\u003eUncle's Lake, ice-fishing and drinking Champale. They arrested him on a \u003cbr\u003ebunch of charges, including assault, robbery, and fishing without a \u003cbr\u003elicense. They must have tagged him for exceeding the limit, too--Sheriff \u003cbr\u003eBuck told me there were over two dozen northerns and crappies swimming \u003cbr\u003earound in pails in that icehouse. At his trial I wanted to ask the guy \u003cbr\u003ewhat he used for bait but Dad Evan would not understand any mingling with \u003cbr\u003ethe accused. He takes loyalty very seriously, and I take my new-model \u003cbr\u003eCaddies and the future ownership of Viking Automotive pretty seriously \u003cbr\u003emyself. I'm in line to run Viking Appliance and Norse Man Liquors, too, \u003cbr\u003ebut it's the dealership I care most about, being a natural at car sales. \u003cbr\u003eSo of course, I just sat there quietly in the courtroom, bored, with \u003cbr\u003eDevera and her hysterical mother, Helen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Just look at that man,\" she'd say, shredding Kleenex like a hamster. \"If \u003cbr\u003ehe's not put away for life, he'll come after us for the final revenge.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe poor guy was French-Canadian, and his accent, you can bet, added a \u003cbr\u003ecouple of years onto his sentence. Around White Falls, people tend to \u003cbr\u003ethink you can judge a book by its cover and foreign accents are most often \u003cbr\u003eup to something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter our wedding reception, Dad Evan and Helen drove us out to a \u003cbr\u003ethree-bedroom ranch house on Flame Lake. The front door was wrapped in \u003cbr\u003eribbon like a present and Dad Evan tossed me the deed like it was spare \u003cbr\u003echange. Dad Evan likes to give big presents away as if he's doing nothing \u003cbr\u003emore than picking up a check for pie and coffee. It burns me--his Mr. \u003cbr\u003eCasual act--so I go right along with it, like it's no big deal. Of course, \u003cbr\u003eas a bridegroom of twenty-two, I hadn't figured this out yet and I jumped \u003cbr\u003eright along with Devera, hugging and kissing him like he was Monte Hall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLast fall we bought a bigger lot and built a new house--five bedrooms and \u003cbr\u003ea sauna in the basement--on the east side of the lake, because Devera \u003cbr\u003ethought it was time to move up. My wife keeps our upward mobility on a \u003cbr\u003etight schedule.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt thirty-nine, Devvie is going through an early midlife crisis. It's \u003cbr\u003eharder on me than our daughter's puberty. The things I'm sure would please \u003cbr\u003eher--a \"greatest hits\" disco CD, a bottle of Jungle Gardenia--now make her \u003cbr\u003ecry or get mad. She says things like, \"Have I ossified?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo answer her I sniff the air. \"I thought I smelled something.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe started taking some night courses (she says just because she earned a \u003cbr\u003edegree doesn't mean she learned anything) and she takes a book wherever \u003cbr\u003eshe goes. She tried to read at the dinner table, and even my daughters \u003cbr\u003ebacked me up in letting her know there is a limit to rudeness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI'm hoping it's a passing stage. When we moved to the new house, she threw \u003cbr\u003eout her little plastic \"Least Changed\" trophy, saying she now considered \u003cbr\u003ethat award an insult. I've noticed BiDi still has hers in the \u003cbr\u003eglass-and-walnut display case Sergio built for Franny's hockey honors.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOur daughter Lin won't have anything to do with Franny; she calls her a \u003cbr\u003edork with a capital \"d\" which perturbs Dev and BiDi, who'd like their best \u003cbr\u003efriend thing to be passed down to the daughters. I get along okay with \u003cbr\u003eSergio, but I'd known Big Mike, BiDi's first husband, since the second \u003cbr\u003egrade, so there was this loyalty thing there. Big Mike and BiDi divorced \u003cbr\u003eabout four years ago. Big Mike said he needed his freedom. He told me this \u003cbr\u003eone late-October day when we were laying on our stomachs in a duck blind. \u003cbr\u003eI almost shot my arm off, I was so shocked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Freedom from BiDi? What are you--crazy?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe wad of tobacco Big Mike always had in his mouth traveled the length of \u003cbr\u003ehis lower lip. \"She's a lot different at home, Dick.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'll bet,\" I said, wiggling my eyebrows.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBig Mike laughed and waved his gun at the autumn sky, a big full blue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Damn ducks know we're here,\" he said. \"They've changed their flight \u003cbr\u003epattern.\" His tongue poked the chew into the corner of his mouth. \"Believe \u003cbr\u003eme,\" he said, squinting up at the sky, \"BiDi puts on a hell of a show, but \u003cbr\u003eat home it's like living with a warden. That big cookie jar? The one \u003cbr\u003ethat's shaped like a caboose that she made in ceramics? Every time I do \u003cbr\u003esomething that bugs her, I gotta put a quarter in it. A quarter if I chew \u003cbr\u003ein the house. A quarter if I don't put the toilet seat down. A quarter if \u003cbr\u003eI drink more'n two beers a night. Christ, pretty soon it'll cost a quarter \u003cbr\u003ejust to put my arms around her.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI wanted to pursue this, but Big Mike just shook his head and spit out a \u003cbr\u003eslimy wad of tobacco.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBiDi went through sort of a wild period after the divorce was finalized \u003cbr\u003eand Big Mike moved to Wisconsin; she was out dancing at King Olaf's almost \u003cbr\u003eevery night, getting drunk with strikers from the meatpacking plant and \u003cbr\u003etruck drivers who had pulled off the interstate.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSergio had a booth at a confections and chocolate convention in Fargo and \u003cbr\u003ecame across King Olaf's on his way down to Minneapolis. He and BiDi were \u003cbr\u003emarried three weeks later, in our backyard, under a trellis Devera made me \u003cbr\u003erig up. BiDi wore a dress that looked as if it would transfer straight to \u003cbr\u003ethe honeymoon, no problem. Pastor Egeqvist miffed a line or two; put a \u003cbr\u003ecleavage like that in front of any man--of the cloth or not--he's going to \u003cbr\u003eget flustered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSergio started up a store on Main Street--about five blocks from the car \u003cbr\u003elot--and he's done so well that he's thinking of going national. He'll \u003cbr\u003ebecome a rich man off chocolate cakes, of all things. They are good, \u003cbr\u003ethough, and I'm not all that big on chocolate in the first place (unlike \u003cbr\u003emy wife). Sergio says the original recipe came from his Spanish \u003cbr\u003egrandmother who fell in love with a Viennese baker.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSergio's family has led dramatic lives--his father was an opera singer who \u003cbr\u003elost the use of his voice during his first week in America. He was mugged \u003cbr\u003eand punched in the throat by some thug wearing brass knuckles (whenever I \u003cbr\u003ethink of that story, my hand automatically goes to my Adam's apple). His \u003cbr\u003emother was a psychic, but Sergio says if she had a gift for it, she never \u003cbr\u003eunwrapped it. She died last year in a bus crash, an accident, Sergio \u003cbr\u003epoints out, she obviously failed to predict.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSergio's an interesting guy, but, man, he's got way too much energy for \u003cbr\u003eme. I think the only time he sits down for an extended period is when he's \u003cbr\u003edriving his car. Ask him to shoot a game of pool with you and you'll get \u003cbr\u003edizzy watching him run around the table.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFranny's nuts about Sergio, even though she's Big Mike from her shoe size \u003cbr\u003e(huge) to her skill on the hockey rink. (Big Mike's hat trick won White \u003cbr\u003eFalls its first and only state high-school championship.)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBiDi told us when Sergio met Franny, he actually cried.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I cannot believe you have the name of my own beloved grandmother,\" he \u003cbr\u003esaid, holding her head in his hands. Franny (he never calls her by her \u003cbr\u003enickname, it's always Francesca) had gotten scared and BiDi had to explain \u003cbr\u003ethat Sergio didn't mean to frighten her, he was just an emotional guy. Now \u003cbr\u003eSergio plays goalie in Franny's pickup games on the lake. He wears boots \u003cbr\u003ebecause he never learned to skate.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLin won't acknowledge us on Family Skate Nights; she just hangs around in \u003cbr\u003ea cluster of teenagers that somehow manage to look surly, even on ice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDevera just laughs and says, \"She's fourteen years old, Dick, what do you \u003cbr\u003eexpect?\" Still, I'm happy that Darcy at eleven lets me hold her hand when \u003cbr\u003ethe \"Blue Danube\" or \"Tennessee Waltz\" is piped through the loudspeakers \u003cbr\u003eAlf Johannson rigged up in his icehouse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDev is a good skater, better than me and she knows it. She's not fancy--no \u003cbr\u003epirouettes or double axels--but she's fast. She wears black speed skates, \u003cbr\u003eand even if I didn't have a mild nicotine habit, I'd never catch her. She \u003cbr\u003eskates around the rink that we've cleared off on the lake, bent over and \u003cbr\u003emoving only one arm like she's on the Olympic team, and I think how much \u003cbr\u003epleasure it would give me if she wiped out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe always laughs when I tell her that and then I say, what the hell, \u003cbr\u003eshow-off, I love a fast woman. Most of the time she unlaces my skates when \u003cbr\u003ewe're ready to leave and rubs my feet until they're warm. It's one of \u003cbr\u003ethose married things I never knew I'd be such a sucker for.A Novel Bestselling author of Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301726965989,"sku":"NP9780449002988","price":23.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780449002988.jpg?v=1767744812","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/your-oasis-on-flame-lake-isbn-9780449002988","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}