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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