Writerly Wednesday: Conflict

This week's f2k lesson was all about conflict - minor conflict of some sort.  I had a scene already written in mind, one of the few in the story that was minor.  However, the lesson called for only 500 words.  Cut the scene down, hopefully while maintaining some sense of what was going on.






Bree walked down the stairs, the throbbing pain in her arm competing with her grumbling empty stomach. She entered the kitchen, the smell of garlic and onions made her mouth water.

“Oh Richard, I hope you saved me some leftovers. It smells delicious.”

She went around the corner, stumbled to a halt. The one man Richard hadn’t wanted her to meet, Adam Kotchara, the Russian mobster, leaned against the counter, holding a pie plate. He wore a heavy overcoat, his cheeks flushed from the cold. His black eyes glittered and one hand disappeared underneath his jacket. Bree put up her hand, palm out as she backed up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.

Adam relaxed, gave her a half bow. “No problem. Miss Bree, correct? Forgive me for startling you,”

She glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Richard?”

“Speaking with my father, They are old friends.” He watched her with unwavering dark eyes, making her want to bolt, but it was too late. “Please. Do not let me stop you from your meal. I believe there is a tray in the oven.”

Eating was the last thing Sabrina wanted to do but he gave her no choice. Eyeing the sling on her arm, he held out his hand. Resigned, she gave him the pot holder and let him pull out the tray. Her stomach growled at the sight of the food. Adam chuckled, placed the tray on the table and held out the chair.

“Come. Sit.” He picked up her knife and fork, nodded toward her plate. “May I?”

Sabrina’s face grew hot with embarrassment, but she stifled her pride. “Please.”

“What happened?”

She couldn’t tell him the truth. Up til now she hadn’t needed a cover story. “Accident with one of the horses. I fell, it got spooked and crushed my hand.”

“Hmm. Not plausible. Will have to come up with a better story.”

Bree blinked, sat back, undecided on what to do. It would be rude to get up and leave.

“I’m sorry, dear Bree. I do not mean to upset you. Please forgive me. But those of us who understand horses, know that particular scenario is not plausible.”

The back door slammed open at the same time as the kitchen door. Tory entered, just as Richard walked in with Doc at his heels.

Adam smiled. “Ah, the Calvary has arrived."

Sabrina red faced, glanced at the men. “I came down for something to eat and ran into Mr. Kotchara.”

“Yes, she caught me red handed having another piece of pie. Most delicious.” He handed the fork to Sabrina. "And assisted Miss Bree with her meal as no one else was around to do so. Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Tory sat down in the rocking chair and glowered at them.

“Is he always so stern.” Adam asked Bree in Russian, “or is he pretending to be tough for your sake.”

Bree laughed, almost choked.

He patted her gently on the back. “Dah, he is big bad wolf.”