Thirteen
“I don’t want to know how much this place costs a night to rent,” Becky remarked when she climbed out of Shane’s truck and took in the so-called “cabin” his mother had rented at Georgetown Lake. The place was monstrous, perched on top of a low, lightly forested hill with a commanding view of the frozen lake and the surrounding mountains. Its sprawling yard sloped right down to the lakeshore and the private dock. She noted two stories from the driveway on the uphill side but figured it had a full daylight basement. Its uniform, milled logs had been stained a pale dove gray, and the trim was white. Not very cabin-like at all in her estimation.
“I don’t want to know that, either,” Shane said, taking her hand, “but I’m curious to know if it’s for show or if she really has that kind
