The Second Sister by Marie Bostwick

Author:Marie Bostwick [Bostwick, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-02-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Growing up in Nilson’s Bay, I spent more than one Halloween trick-or-treating in snow boots and with a parka over my costume, so I knew how fortunate we were that the weather had continued to be cold but bright and sunny so late in November. But it wouldn’t last. The forecast was calling for storms early in the week.

I spent the Saturday after Thanksgiving raking up the last few leaves so they wouldn’t rot underneath the snow and burn the lawn come spring, bleeding the outdoor faucets and wrapping them in old towels and plastic bags to make sure the pipes didn’t freeze, locating the shovels and ice scrapers, and making sure that the snowblower had plenty of oil and gas and that I still remembered how to start it. Once that was done, I drove to town for rock salt from the hardware store, groceries from the market, and movies from Redbox.

I came home feeling pleased that I was ready to handle the winter’s icy blast and even a little excited about the prospect of snow. I decided to take a nice long walk along the lakeshore. It might be my last chance to do so for some time, maybe even forever, since I’d be selling the cottage in the spring.

The trees were completely bare by now, stark and skeletal, but still beautiful, like pen-and-ink drawings superimposed upon a canvas of bright blue. I was wearing a sweater under my coat, gloves on my hands, and a thick pair of wool-blend socks inside my boots, so even though the temperature was hovering just above twenty degrees, I was perfectly warm.

After cutting through the neighbors’ backyards, I reached the edge of the forest and the start of a trail that led to the far side of the bay. The trail, a deer path that had become more established when people started using it, wasn’t maintained by anyone, so I sometimes had to climb over rocks or fallen tree limbs to follow it, but that was part of the attraction for me; it was a great workout.

I walked for about two miles to a big fallen tree that hung out over the edge of the water. I climbed out onto the trunk to catch my breath and enjoy the view for a few minutes before turning around and retracing my route through the woods and then the yards that backed up to the shore. I was so entranced by the sight of the sun beginning to sink toward the water that I didn’t notice Daphne Olsen sitting outside in a lawn chair until I heard her calling out to me.

“How’s the hand?” she asked, blowing out a column of cigarette smoke and gesturing with the wineglass she held.

“Better,” I said. “The stitches come out soon.”

“Good! So you’ll be able to start quilting again.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure that little escapade marked my first and last attempt at quilting. Thanks again for driving me to the hospital.”

She dismissed my gratitude with a

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