I opened the red door of my cottage and peered through the crack into the early morning and at the stranger who approached my door. My home was out of the way of everything. Those who came to visit had to make an effort, and almost no one made the effort. I liked it that way.
“Miss Lundy?” the stranger said nervously. “Miss Elizabeth Lundy?”
Like a sniper staring through the scope of a rifle, I assessed the youth, determined the level of threat he posed, and punched out the stats in my head: Male. Twenty-two years. Five-five. One twenty pounds. Thin arms. Wide shoulders, straight back. If he worked out, he could turn more than a few heads. Pity he didn"t bother.
He smiled a bright smile that exposed a decent set of teeth. Everything about his composure exuded relief and elation once he
