After my husband and I moved from Puerto Rico in 2013, I resumed work on a partially completed novel about a dead woman in a Puerto Rican rainforest. I soon realized the teenage boy who found the body would not be able to tell the woman’s whole story. Needing a contemporary voice, I created Pamela Palmer. From her home in the States, she would reminisce about her years living in Puerto Rico. Since my new home was Spokane, WA, it seemed a logical home for her as well. Instead, she became a resident of Coeur d’Alene, ID.
That happened during my first winter in the Inland Northwest. It was Christmastime. A daughter was visiting, and, intrigued by the million and a half lights said to wrap around the Coeur d’Alene Resort, we decided to visit the city. On a cold afternoon as the sun sank from the sky and day turned to early darkness, we parked at the resort. Mesmerized by the display of lights, we strolled along the marina boardwalk. I looked out over the water and squinted. The lake became a calm sea; twinkling casita lights illuminated the inky water; and the trees morphed into tropical vegetation on low-rising hills. My heart flipped. If it weren’t for the fifty-degree difference in temperature, I could have been back in the Caribbean. Pamela Palmer would have loved that, so Coeur d’Alene became her home.
In my early draft, Pamela lived on the upper floor of a condominium set on a hill behind the resort. Bundled up on a balcony overlooking the lake below, she did her reminiscing. This worked fine until someone in my novelists’ group pointed out that downtown Coeur d’Alene was flat and had no tall buildings other than the resort. There was no way Pamela could overlook the lake below . . .
On my next visit to Coeur d’Alene, this time during the day, I found a lovely neighborhood a couple of blocks from Sherman Beach. From her second-floor balcony in one of these homes, Pamela could overlook the lake, and she often watched the twinkling lights, one of the haunting joys of the Caribbean at night. This home lasted through a couple of revisions, and I set several scenes on Sherman Beach. Then I remembered Tubbs Hill, a round hilly peninsula that extends into the lake from downtown. I checked a map. Sherman Beach lays on the far side of Tubbs Hill, cut off from virtually all the lights of downtown Coeur d’Alene.
Once again, Pamela had to move. Once again, I canvassed the city for her new home. This time I scouted out a neighborhood on the northern bank of the lake, between the mouth of the Spokane River and the Coeur d’Alene Resort, adjacent to a small college and a large park. I found a house a couple of blocks from the lake. From here, Pamela could sit on her second floor balcony, look out over the lake, and see the city lights at night.
Home at last.
