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