"I haven't had one for so long I'd forgotten that. Besides, the last couple of vacations I had were with Steve before he died, and he was a competitive vacationer. So many miles a day to cover, so many sights to see, meals mapped out in advance. Up at the crack of dawn to enjoy — by God! — every minute. Unscheduled potty breaks made him wild."

Shelley shuddered dramatically. "If it's not too crass, may I remind you that Steve is dead and it's a mercy for a lot of reasons, and besides, this is not that kind of vacation. Get up whenever you feel like it. You can have breakfast brought to you, or come down to the lodge. I suggest the lodge. It's beautiful. Give me a call when you're stirring. I put my number on the notepad on the kitchen counter."

"Shelley! You said that word again! Kitchen!"

"Sorry. See you tomorrow."

Jane sat for a while, staring at the dying embers of the fire. The wine, the cheese, the warmth of the fire, the comfort of the deep chair — it was all too good to be true. She finally forced herself to get up and stagger to the bedroom. The girls, to her surprise, had actually turned out their lights and seemed to be asleep, although she wondered, from the smell as she looked in on them, if maybe they'd just succumbed to nail polish fumes.

She had dumped her belongings on the bed nearest the door, so she tumbled into the one closest to the glass doors — which she decided was probably the most comfortable bed in the Western Hemisphere. She dreamed briefly about Abe Lincoln riding a moose before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 2

When Jane finally awoke, she was on her side, facing the glass doors, and for a moment she thought she was dreaming herself into a calendar picture.