shoulder? Youâre here. In Grizzly Falls, not Seattle. Youâre safe.
Kacey clenched her teeth and counted to ten. Her headlights cast warm beams over the two inches of snow that covered the ground and reflected in the millions of swirling flakes that fell from the dark sky.
The old farmhouse where she lived came into view, and she almost smiled at how, under the blue bath of the security lamp, the little cottage appeared quaint and welcoming. Built of clapboard nearly a hundred years earlier, the house had a steeply pitched roof, two dormers, and a wide porch that skirted the entire first floor. Two lights were burning, one in the living room, the other in the den, both on timers so that she wouldnât have to walk into a dark house.
She hit the garage door opener, then, as the door yawned wide, drove inside. She made certain to close the garage door before climbing out of her SUV. She was cautious, much more careful than sheâd been growing up here as a child, or as a student who had let nothing get in her way in her quest for success. With stellar grades and an athletic scholarship to a small junior college, sheâd been fearless.
Which had proven to be her downfall.
Now, grabbing her laptop case, she let herself out of the garage. After locking the door quickly, she hurried along a short walkway to the back porch, where a welcoming light burned by the door. Her boots broke a path in the snow, then were muffled a bit as she climbed the few steps. Unlocking the door as she stamped off the snow, she then slipped inside and twisted the dead bolt.
She thought about getting another dog but couldnât face the thought of leaving it for the length of time she would have to be at work every weekday. Sometimes she left the house before six in the morning and didnât return until nearly eight in the evening. Since she lived alone, it just didnât seem fair or right to leave a dog alone that long, and though she could adjust her schedule, and she could hire people to walk the dog, or she could bring it to the office or to the doggy day care in town, so far sheâd resisted the idea. But maybe it was time to rethink that?
She glanced around this kitchen that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. As a child, sheâd visited here often, this little house on the farm her grandparents had owned. And with the house had come a succession of strays and herding dogs, sometimes three at a time, which she remembered from her long summers and winter vacations when sheâd visited. The dogs had been a part of the landscape and the house.
Later, while she was married, working opposite shifts as her husband, theyâd owned an aging Boston terrier heâd inherited from his mother when sheâd moved into a condo that prohibited pets. The black and white dog had lasted another two years, but when Black-Jack had finally died, their marriage had been eroding and theyâd never made the effort or commitment to find another dog.
Or to save the marriage.
Peeling off her coat and scarf, she hung both in a closet near the back door, then kicked off her boots and lost two inches in the process.
After filling a cup with water and placing it in the microwave, she scrounged in her refrigerator, where she found two pieces of a pizza sheâd picked up three nights earlier and an unopened salad in a bag.
âPerfect,â she muttered under her breath and reminded herself that she had to stop at the store tomorrow. Her toilet paper, dish detergent, and coffee levels were getting dangerously low.
The microwave dinged and she quickly made a cup of tea, which she carried upstairs to her bedroom tucked under the eaves. Between sips of the hot brew, she stripped out of the slacks and sweater sheâd worn all day. As she reached for her flannel pajama bottoms, she eyed her workout gear, black sweats, and an old Huskies long-sleeved T-shirt.
Could she do it?
Really?
With this
Kacey clenched her teeth and counted to ten. Her headlights cast warm beams over the two inches of snow that covered the ground and reflected in the millions of swirling flakes that fell from the dark sky.
The old farmhouse where she lived came into view, and she almost smiled at how, under the blue bath of the security lamp, the little cottage appeared quaint and welcoming. Built of clapboard nearly a hundred years earlier, the house had a steeply pitched roof, two dormers, and a wide porch that skirted the entire first floor. Two lights were burning, one in the living room, the other in the den, both on timers so that she wouldnât have to walk into a dark house.
She hit the garage door opener, then, as the door yawned wide, drove inside. She made certain to close the garage door before climbing out of her SUV. She was cautious, much more careful than sheâd been growing up here as a child, or as a student who had let nothing get in her way in her quest for success. With stellar grades and an athletic scholarship to a small junior college, sheâd been fearless.
Which had proven to be her downfall.
Now, grabbing her laptop case, she let herself out of the garage. After locking the door quickly, she hurried along a short walkway to the back porch, where a welcoming light burned by the door. Her boots broke a path in the snow, then were muffled a bit as she climbed the few steps. Unlocking the door as she stamped off the snow, she then slipped inside and twisted the dead bolt.
She thought about getting another dog but couldnât face the thought of leaving it for the length of time she would have to be at work every weekday. Sometimes she left the house before six in the morning and didnât return until nearly eight in the evening. Since she lived alone, it just didnât seem fair or right to leave a dog alone that long, and though she could adjust her schedule, and she could hire people to walk the dog, or she could bring it to the office or to the doggy day care in town, so far sheâd resisted the idea. But maybe it was time to rethink that?
She glanced around this kitchen that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. As a child, sheâd visited here often, this little house on the farm her grandparents had owned. And with the house had come a succession of strays and herding dogs, sometimes three at a time, which she remembered from her long summers and winter vacations when sheâd visited. The dogs had been a part of the landscape and the house.
Later, while she was married, working opposite shifts as her husband, theyâd owned an aging Boston terrier heâd inherited from his mother when sheâd moved into a condo that prohibited pets. The black and white dog had lasted another two years, but when Black-Jack had finally died, their marriage had been eroding and theyâd never made the effort or commitment to find another dog.
Or to save the marriage.
Peeling off her coat and scarf, she hung both in a closet near the back door, then kicked off her boots and lost two inches in the process.
After filling a cup with water and placing it in the microwave, she scrounged in her refrigerator, where she found two pieces of a pizza sheâd picked up three nights earlier and an unopened salad in a bag.
âPerfect,â she muttered under her breath and reminded herself that she had to stop at the store tomorrow. Her toilet paper, dish detergent, and coffee levels were getting dangerously low.
The microwave dinged and she quickly made a cup of tea, which she carried upstairs to her bedroom tucked under the eaves. Between sips of the hot brew, she stripped out of the slacks and sweater sheâd worn all day. As she reached for her flannel pajama bottoms, she eyed her workout gear, black sweats, and an old Huskies long-sleeved T-shirt.
Could she do it?
Really?
With this
Similar Books
