Chapter 1, page 13

On her way back to the cabin, Phoebe watched summer storm clouds gathering. They slowly drifted in, until now it was getting dark, and large drops of rain were splatting down. She had reached the spot where she’d been dive-bombed by the butterly early that morning, but didn’t stop to take pictures of the dramatic sky. She didn’t mind the summer sprinkles, but this looked like it was going to be a downpour, and she didn’t relish the idea of coming home soaked to her skin. So she hurried down the trail, grateful for the speed she could hike while going downhill.

Just as she reached the old cabin, that Gail had warned her to stay away from, the skies opened up. She raced onto the porch with only her shoulders and hat wetted by the downpour. As she jumped onto the porch, the door creaked open.

“Jeez, I must have landed pretty hard to jar the door open that way!” she exclaimed to herself. She couldn’t resist peeking in, and pushed the door open further. It was exquisite inside; a rocking chair on one side of the stone fireplace, a wingback armchair on the other, with a side table in between the two. A braided rug lay in front of the woodstove, the perfect place for a sleeping dog. A nearby shelf held two oil lamps, full of clear yellow kerosene. At the far end of the cabin was a small kitchen, with gingham covered cabinets below the counter, and open shelves above. A small sink and stove, along with a floor to ceiling cabinet, completed the kitchen area. A set of stairs led upstairs, with hooks for hanging coats and hats underneath it. To the right was a writing desk. A door was off to one side, close to the kitchen.