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Mrs Bambi Knows

In a small town in Oregon, everyone wants to kill the local advice columnist, Mrs Bambi. If only they knew who she was.

Mrs Bambi’s advice is so snarky that people have long since stopped asking for it. Instead, she eavesdrops on conversations and writes the letters herself. The readers would lynch her, but no one knows who she is.

In fact, Mrs. Bambi is not a woman. The column is written by Richard, a quiet widower with a young daughter.
The uneventful part of Richard's life is nearly over: he begins dating Pam, a well-known realtor and a sports addict. When people begin to learn the identity of Mrs. Bambi, Richard is threatened and humiliated in public. Despite the pleas of his editor, his friends, and Pam, he refuses to stop writing the column.
The only thing that can prevent disaster is for the town to finally learn the whole truth about Richard, which is much larger than the simple mystery of Mrs. Bambi.

Set in 1995, Chris Mason’s skillful storytelling brings a tale of humour and romance – and not a little peril - charmingly to life in the mind of the reader.

Purchase Links

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Read an Extract

Richard is is a single father living in Oregon, whose daughter is Miriam. He has just asked a woman (Pam) out on a date for the first time since his wife died. Here he’s visiting with his best friend, A.M., in her weird clothing shop. Richard has met most of his friends through A.M., who is gay, so most of his friends are also gay.

“Coffee?” A.M. said.

“Sure.” It was the only thing Richard liked about her shop: she always had great coffee. She poured him a mug and another for herself. They tore open little paper packets of sweetener, sugar for him and Sweet ’n Low for her.

“What’s going on?” she said as she sat down across from him.

“You remember that woman we saw in Pig’s Wings Friday?”

“Sure. Pamela Castle. The one you wimped out with.” She looked at his face for a moment and burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me you asked her out!”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did she say? Please tell me she said she was gay. Please, please, please?” He folded his arms and glared at her. “Oh well,” A.M. said, “too bad for me. So what did she say?”

“What do you think she said?”

“I think she said, ‘Get away from me, you weirdo.’”

“Try again.” A.M. shook her head, refusing but smiling, and raised her coffee mug. He said, “We’re going out Friday night.”

“Yeah, right.”

“We are.”

“Really?” She looked impressed. “Well kiss my chilly crevasse. Where?”

“What do you mean, where?”

“This is a special occasion, bozo, your first date since... ever, I guess. You can’t just take her to MacDonald’s or the no-name Chinese place. Let’s see...”

“Will you get serious?”

“I am serious... I know. Take her to the Columbia Gorge Hotel.”

“Jesus! Way too expensive.”

“You’re right. It’s too much for a first date, she’ll expect you to fly her to Cancún next time. Okay, Vito’s maybe. No; the food’s mediocre and you never know what kind of service you’ll get. Well, maybe you should just take her to Portland. Hey, that’s a good idea, then you can pre-book a hotel room.”

“A.M., it’s just a first date. We’re not going to... you know.”

“Why not?”

He never really wanted to hear about her sex life, and he was definitely not going to talk about his own. Especially since he didn’t have one yet.

“I’m not looking for a one night stand, A.M. I’d be happy with someone who’d let me hold her hand in the movies.”

She studied his face for a moment. “You really like her.”

“Yes, I do. She’s pretty and she seems really nice. She smiles a lot.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can dig up on her.”

“Thanks,” he said. He finished his coffee. “Miriam’s birthday is next month. Are you going to help me and Nadine plan her party?”

“How is Miriam?”

“She’s great. Looking forward to getting out of school.”

“Do you have anything special planned this summer?”

“Yeah, I thought we’d spend a couple of months in Italy. Sicily, Naples, Rome, Venice, Florence. Kind of eat our way up the boot.”

“You can start by licking my boot, funny boy. You’ve never been out of the country in your life.”

“Will you help with the party?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll call Nadine. By the way, you need to go up there.”

“Why?”

“She’s got a new accounting package and she wants you to install it for her.”

Richard sighed. “Why won’t she call me?”

“She won’t call anyone. You know that.”

“Then why does she bother having a phone?”

“So you can call her, stupid.”

That made a twisted kind of sense. “When does she want me?”

“She doesn’t want you—you’ve got the wrong equipment. Oh, you mean for her accounting stuff. Tomorrow or Wednesday, in the afternoon.”

“Okay.” He stood up and carried his mug to the little sink by the coffee maker. “I’ve got to go.”

“All right,” she pouted. “Go ahead. Leave me alone with my boring work and my empty shop.”

“I hate to say this A.M., but maybe the reason your shop is empty has something to do with the way you dress.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” She stood up to give him a hug. He tried not to look down her vest, but he couldn’t help himself. It hung wide open.

“Well,” he said, “maybe you could actually wear some clothes. Then you might not scare off the customers.”

She laughed heartily. “What damned customers?”

 Born in Ohio, Chris has moved around too much for anyone's good, living in several places that might be considered tourist attractions. He mines those experiences for the settings of his books.

He lives in Florida with his wife, two dogs, two cats, and a smart-aleck macaw who has pets of her own.