{"product_id":"miss-julia-raises-the-roof-isbn-9780735220515","title":"Miss Julia Raises the Roof","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe nineteenth installment of the beloved and \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling Miss Julia series\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith her husband Sam off on a trip to Europe, Miss Julia reckons it's about time to roll up her sleeves and be of some use to her community. It's then that she hears that the nosy do-gooder Madge Taylor and the new pastor Rucker are embarking on a mission to buy up the vacant house next door to Hazel Marie and establish a group home for wayward teenagers. No stranger to taking in the down-and-out herself, Miss Julia is shocked to learn Madge and the pastor are keeping the project a secret. When Miss Julia and Hazel Marie start investigating, though, they uncover a far less philanthropic plot for the house that even Madge doesn't know about--one that could change the quiet, peaceful neighborhood forever. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiss Julia must band together with friends and neighbors to take on nosy Madge and her steamrolling plans, while still being helpful to those in need in \u003ci\u003eMiss Julia Raises the Roof\u003c\/i\u003e, another entertaining installment of Ann B. Ross's bestselling series.\u003cp\u003e\"The main pleasure lies not in the mystery, a comfortable puzzler, but in the time spent among engaging small-town characters as they cope with the joys and demands of day-to-day life.\"\u003cb\u003e --\u003ci\u003ePublisher's Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Readers familiar with Miss Julia's previous outings will feel right at home.\"\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003e --Booklist\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for Ann B. Ross and the Miss Julia series:\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ross has a gift for elevating such everyday matters as marital strife and the hazards of middle age to high comedy, while painting her beautifully drawn characters with wit and sympathy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e-\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“A charming, fun adventure with new relatives, old secrets and a will putting Miss Julia and the Abbotsville regulars in a true Southern mess. I loved it!” \u003cb\u003e—Duffy Brown, bestselling author of the Consignment Shop Mysteries\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ann B. Ross develops characters so expertly, through quirks, names, and mannerisms, that they easily feel familiar as the reader is gently immersed into the world Miss Ross has created. . . . A delightful read.\" \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eWinston-Salem Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Miss Julia is one of the most delightful characters to come along in years. Ann B. Ross has created what is sure to become a classic Southern comic novel. Hooray for Miss Julia, I could not have liked it more.\" \u003cb\u003e—Fannie Flagg, author of \u003ci\u003eThe All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes, Miss Julia is back, and I, for one, am one happy camper.\" \u003cb\u003e—J. A. Jance, author of \u003ci\u003eCold Betrayal\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cb\u003eAnn B. Ross \u003c\/b\u003eis the author of more than a dozen novels featuring the popular Southern heroine Miss Julia, as well as \u003ci\u003eEtta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day\u003c\/i\u003e, a novel about one of Abbotsville's other most outspoken residents: Etta Mae Wiggins. Ross holds a doctorate in English from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and has taught literature at the University of North Carolina at Asheville. She lives in Hendersonville, North CarolinaChapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I'm getting old, and I don't much like it. On the other hand, as      Lillian has reminded me, it could be worse. I pulled my sweater      closer and smiled to myself as I thought of a bright spot-I      certainly wasn't the only one suffering from sagging muscles and      deep wrinkles and aching joints and poor eyesight and you-name-it.      Everybody else I knew was getting old, too. Of course, some      started later than others, so they're not yet getting that shock      when they look in a mirror first thing in the morning. They think      they'll look that way forever.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They'll change their tune, though, if they last long enough.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now, why, you may ask, was I burdened with such dark, unedifying      thoughts? Because, I answer, it behooves us all to stop and take      stock on occasion, and that's what I was doing on a warm October      day as I sat in a wicker rocking chair on my wisteria-covered      front porch.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e People used to sit on their porches after supper on pretty days,      rocking and cooling off and speaking to neighbors as they walked      by. But nobody walks anymore. They're either zipping past in      air-conditioned cars or bent over the handlebars of bicycles-their      spandex-covered backsides hiked above their heads-or gasping for      air as they pound by on their LeBron James Nike running shoes. Oh,      and, by the way, I happened to know that there wasn't a one of      those runners who'd ever played a game of basketball in their      lives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Since no one was taking notice-too caught up in their own worlds-I      was content to sit partially hidden by the vine that covered a      third of my porch. Wisteria-even the slow-growing kind-offers      protection from prying eyes only a few months of the year, and      those months were about over, leaving mostly bare twisting stems      that ran up to the roof and blocked the gutters.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I'd have to do something about that, but not today. Today was      given over to taking stock and feeling sorry for myself. I'd get      over it, but I've found that when you're in such a mood, it's      better to go ahead and wallow in it, thereby getting it out of      your system, than to let it simmer on for days.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Weeks, in fact, for some people, and for others, well, they seem      to never get over it. Don't you just hate it when an old person      gets crabbier and crabbier, and harder and harder to live with?      They say that however you are when you're young, you get worse as      you age. And I believe it. I've seen it happen time and again. But      not in my household, thank the Lord.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sam is as even tempered and easygoing as he ever was, and for that      I will be eternally grateful. Every once in a while, especially      when I'm in one of these moods, I wonder what Wesley Lloyd      Springer, my late unlamented first husband, would've been like if      the Lord hadn't taken pity on me and taken him to his reward years      ago. Of course even if He hadn't, I wouldn't have been around to      witness Wesley Lloyd's descent into ill-tempered dotage. I      would've been long gone as soon as I learned what he'd been up to.      There'd never been a divorce in my family, but there's always a      first time and mine would've been it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I rocked a little harder as I thought of all I would've missed if      Wesley Lloyd had continued to live on, getting grouchier by the      day. Lloyd, for one, his ill-begotten son, who is the sunshine of      my life, and Sam, for another, who is more than I ever dreamed of      or deserved in a husband. And I would've sorely missed Hazel Marie      as well, even though some of my friends still wonder how I can      bring myself to love her as I do. So she'd been my husband's kept      woman-think of what despair she must've been in to have stooped      that low.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Miss Julia?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I looked up to see Lillian at the screen door. \"Oh, sorry,      Lillian, I must've been daydreaming.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You better come on in. It's gettin' a little chilly out here. An'      supper be ready in a few minutes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, all right. Thank you, Lillian. I'm coming.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e With an extra push of my foot, I was able to spring from the      rocker to my feet and follow her inside.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Lillian,\" I said as we reached the kitchen, \"I've got to stop      letting my mind wander all over the place. I seem to be doing a      lot of that here lately, and it's not healthy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What you need is something to do till Mr. Sam get back, so why      don't you get busy and find it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're exactly right. I do need something to do. But, Lord,      Lillian, I've lived so long that I think I've already done      everything I possibly can.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I don't wanta hear no more grumblin' 'bout how you gettin' old.      Just be glad you're still gettin' there.\" Lillian poured a pot of      beans into a bowl, steam rising about her head. \"Think about that      church 'cross the street. From what I hear it need all the help it      can get.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That set me back on my heels. If Lillian had heard gossip about      the First Presbyterian Church of Abbotsville, then how many others      had heard the same? It was not like me to let things get so far      out of hand that internal church business became the topic of      conversation around town.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's certainly something to think about,\" I said, realizing all      of a sudden that when you got right down to it, my probem wasn't      age. It was boredom. And right then and there I determined that it      was past time that I put my hand to the plow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Chapter 2\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before he'd left on that hazardous trip of his, Sam had made me      promise to stay out of trouble. \"Don't do anything foolish,\" was      the way he'd put it, so it had been easy to give my word. I never      did anything foolish-ill-advised, perhaps, but never anything      out-and-out foolish.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Actually, a big part of my current discontent, which Lillian had      heard me moan about time and time again, was the fact that Sam was      off on that highly unnecessary trip, traipsing around Europe at      the same time that gangs of terrorists were doing the same thing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was sick with worry, but nothing would do but that he had to go.      He was determined to see the great cathedrals-the French Gothic      ones being high on his list-just the sort of landmarks that would      also draw the interest of madmen bent on wanton destruction. And      Sam was in and out of every one of them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Julia,\" he'd said when he had first broached the subject, \"honey,      I am just fed up with the way the world is going. All our great      accomplishments, which we love to boast about, boil down to little      more than nuclear arsenals, satellites, cars, and more and more      intricate and expensive devices-iPads, iPods, and iPhones that can      be used to send pictures of naked people or to prey on      children-what a legacy to leave! But that's what our society has      seen fit to build, and every last one of them is made to wear out      or be used up or upgraded and replaced. And to top it off, every      Tom, Dick, and Harry can tweet, Twitter, or e-mail half-baked      opinions about everything under the sun and be listened to.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Surprised by his strong feelings, I had sat quietly listening as      he got it all off his chest, and he'd had plenty to get off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And, Julia,\" he'd gone on, \"that's the sort of thing our      generation and the ones coming after us are spending their lives      doing-coming up with more and better ways to intrude on others or      to get their names and faces on television-and half of them are      high on legalized marijuana. I'm sick of it-I want to go see those      grand, magnificent cathedrals that men spent their lives      building-and not just their lives, but the lives of the following      generations. Why, honey, some of those cathedrals took more than a      hundred years to complete. And thousands of everyday men trudged      to work every day to spend their entire lives working on something      that they knew they'd never see finished. They did it not for      their own glory or to put more money into corporate pockets, but      for the glory of God, and, after centuries of wars, daily use, and      weather of all kinds, those great monuments are still standing,      still being used, and still awe inspiring.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Think of the contrast,\" he'd said, waving his arms. \"Those Apple      people and others like them come up every year or two with a new      phone, just so their last one-also introduced with great      fanfare-will be obsolete. I want to go see something that was      built to last-and see it before some hate-driven maniac attacks      it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I could understand that. My concern was that he'd be there when      that hate-driven maniac decided to do it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But off he went, and here I stayed. That wasn't unusual. He'd      taken long trips before while I'd stayed home-we were doing      exactly what each of us wanted to do, which is exactly what makes      a good marriage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Lloyd here, Miss Julia.\" Lillian had glanced through the window      and seen Lloyd crossing the yard to the back door. \"Supper on the      table in about two minutes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lloyd, now a sophomore in high school, was staying with me while      Sam was gone. He spent most of the day in classrooms, and the rest      of it in extracurricular activities, getting home around      dinnertime to eat and do his homework. But just to have him in the      house, even though we both were sleeping during most of his free      time, was a comfort and a joy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hey, Miss Julia,\" Lloyd said, unslinging his bulging backpack and      dropping it to the floor. \"Hey, Miss Lillian, I'm starving. Supper      about ready?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"More than about,\" Lillian said. \"I'm puttin' it on the table      right now.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Lloyd,\" I said as we sat at the table and began to fill our      plates, \"do you think our society produces anything that will      outlast us?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Huh?\" The laden fork that was halfway to his mouth stopped short.      \"I mean, ma'am?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm talking about the big picture. What have we built or produced      that will last for centuries? Like a cathedral, for instance. Is      there anything we've done like that?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, sure. Think of all of the discoveries. In medicine, in      cyberspace, in transportation, and electricity, and so on. I mean,      you can't go see them like you can a cathedral, but you sure can      get the use out of them.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hmm. Then I guess that wouldn't have dissuaded Sam-even if I'd      thought of it. Anyway,\" I went on, \"how was school?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Pretty good. The Key Club met this afternoon, and we're trying to      come up with a good fund-raiser. Probably end up doing a candy      sale like last year and the year before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, by the way,\" Lloyd said, as if it were a matter of little      import, \"I'll be going to school early a couple of mornings a      week. Miss Turner asked me to help a freshman with algebra.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I looked up. \"You mean, like tutoring?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes'm, I guess,\" he said, shrugging. \"Just go over his homework      with him and make sure he understands it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I glowed with pride at my smart boy, but refrained from expressing      it. \"I'll make breakfast for you on those mornings.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No'm, that's okay. All I want is cereal and peanut butter toast.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lillian rolled her eyes, then said, \"He growin' up, all right.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When Lillian left after supper to pick up Latisha, her      great-granddaughter, from after-school care, I adjourned to the      library while Lloyd went upstairs to do his homework. I kept his      room exactly as he wanted it, even though he also had a room at      his motherÕs house. Essentially, the boy had two homes: one with      Hazel Marie and her husband, J. D. Pickens, PI, and the other with      Sam and me. At one time I had wondered if such an arrangement      would induce some sort of schizophrenic reaction in the boy, but      Lloyd was as normal as you could want, in spite of how and by whom      heÕd been conceived. And completely unspoiled, in spite of his      half of the huge inheritance left to him by Wesley Lloyd Springer,      his father and my first husband.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After locking the doors for the evening, I sat on my Chippendale      sofa in the library, flipping through a magazine and finding      nothing that was remotely readable. Sighing, I wondered what Sam      was doing. Then, recalling the time difference, I thought that he      was probably asleep, resting from a strenuous day and preparing      for another just like it. I'd told him to be sure to take some      Advil or a similar medication for the sore neck he would most      certainly get from craning it all day long at those soaring      ceilings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When the phone rang, I quickly answered it, hoping for something,      anything, that would lift me out of the doldrums from which I      couldn't seem to free myself. Be careful what you hope for, you      just might get it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Miss Julia?\" Hazel Marie said. \"I just learned something that's      upset me so bad I can hardly stand it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What? What's going on, Hazel Marie?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well, you know the Cochran house? The one right beside us?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens married, they had bought Sam's      lovely, old house. He no longer needed it, having found his      permanent home with me. Located four blocks from us, Sam's house      sat on a large lot that ran from Jackson Street on the front to      McKinley Street on the back, taking up a third of the block. The      smaller, much less grand Cochran house and one other, the even      smaller Osborne house-both Craftsman bungalows in style-were      situated on the remaining two-thirds that faced Jackson Street.      Two other houses, facing McKinley Street, backed up to them, one      owned by an elderly couple, the Pickerells, and the other by the      Winsteads, who'd raised three well-mannered and accomplished      children there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e All the houses on that block, as well as those on the surrounding      blocks, had been built long before any town planner thought to      protect the area. Zoning had come late, well after the town had      grown up around the cluster of historic houses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sam's house, substantial but graceful in contrast to the      Cochrans', had been well built and well maintained. So that was      one thing I could point him to as having stood the test of time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, of course I know the Cochran house,\" I responded to her      question. \"It's been empty for a good while, hasn't it?\"","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301037134053,"sku":"NP9780735220515","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780735220515.jpg?v=1767732791","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/miss-julia-raises-the-roof-isbn-9780735220515","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}