promises of misty mornings and golden afternoons； newly ripening apples
and sountain air； it was a
perfect antidote for her malaise。 The small house on its high perch was
everything the rental agent had promised。 No matter that her small car
had nearly e apart jolting over bumps and ruts in the steadily
climbing dirt road； the house was charming。 It sat peacefully in the
arms of giant maples and towering firs； its brown weathered shingles and
silver slate roof blending with the earthen road and the gray of the
sky。 Low shrubbery； aged a fall green； bordered the house。 Taller lilac
bushes； their fragrant blossoms long gone but imagined； straddled the
ebony front door。
Inside； the cottage was as pact as its surroundings were generous；
with an open…hearthed living room at the front； a kitchen； bedroom； and
bath at the rear。 A narrow stairway on the far side led to a dormered
attic。 Decorated functionally and fortably； the whole was a far cry
from her elegant New York apartment； but the difference pleased her。
This was a neutral spot； a place of few luxuries and no memories； a
place where she could face life for the pleasure of the day。
And this had been a tiring one。 Its morning had been filled with
last minute errands…to the bank for money； to the library and the
bookstore for the week's entertainment； to the university for a delivery
and a pickup； to the market for food。 Its afternoon had been one of
steady driving； then storing groceries and unpacking bags。
The fireplace had beckoned。 Anne was bone…weary； had been lacking in
stamina for weeks。 As the wing…backed chair held her slim form； the
da