CHAPTER 7Conundrums
Monte basked by the fire in the living room of Downfield Place, munching on his third Mars bar of the afternoon as the rain spittered against the grand window. A mass of thick gray clouds congested the sky outside. It was a bleak day, the earth dreary and raw from the gale storm the night before.
Grandmother Meriweather occupied Uncle Jarus’s oversized plaid armchair. Her legs dangled over one of the arms, her head nestled in the crook of the other. Brotus and Saladin sprawled on the floor below her, each gnawing on a hunk of bone from the butcher.
Earthy scents wafted from the glossy mantelpiece where a display of burnt orange leaves and bronzy ribbons intertwined through a freshly assembled garland of pine branches and dried citrus. A marble bust of a lion’s head p
