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ming her hands as the
fire warmed her feet; and it suddenly struck her that she was beginning
to feel。 It had been months since she had smelled coffee brewing or felt
the barefoot plushness of a carpet。 But the coffee did smell good。 Same
with the burning logs and the pines outside; and her feet did feel;
albeit smooth sanded oak planks rather than the thick carpeting of home。
Pushing the glasses up on her nose; she stared at the biography; but it
wasn't a biography kind of night。 Jumping up; she returned to her room
for a replacement。 Mystery or romance…the choice was easy。 A romance
might appeal to her later in the week; when she was feeling stronger。
She took the mystery and set off。
The addition of several logs brightened the blaze in the hearth。 Edging
her chair closer; she read from its light; and the book drew her in。
Within a chapter; she was the heroine。 She was only marginally aware
that the rain was ing harder; beating with increased force against
rooftop; windowpane; and clapboard。 It was a fitting backdrop for the
story of a young woman stranded in the deep woods in a cabin not unlike
her oparison; debated switching to
the romance after all; but was inexorably drawn back to the tightly
written piece。 Burrowing deeper into the chair; she gave herself up to
the plot。
She read for two hours; pausing only for more coffee。 The gold watch on
her wrist read eleven; but she was wide awake; stimulated by caffeine;
her new surroundings; and the riveting edge of the story。 As Chapter
Four became Five and then Six; the mystery deepened。 Accidents were
neither accident nor coincidence。 Someone was
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