I am what is called, in the celebrity mags, a Modern Day Cinderella. I’m called a lot of other things, I’m sure.
The one that matters is Teejay Tanner.
Please note: Tanner. As in Mrs. Tanner.
We live outside of town, behind a wrought iron security gate that requires a code to open.
Tim zealously guards his privacy, even has legal ramifications to keep his address from the public.
Most people in town know where he is, or at least, have a general idea which canyon conceals the house. Should they need him, they also know one of us will be in town several times a week, some even have our cell phone numbers.
We have open accounts at the grocery store and the hardware store, and a box at the post office, since they don’t deliver to outlying canyons, even for resident celebrities.
He gets a lot of mail so we have a large postal box that still has to be checked several times a week..
Anne Edwards, his manager, sorts and forwards fan mail and personal requests.
Don’t get me wrong. He loves his fans, appreciates the fact that without them he would be just another guy with a guitar.