After dinner, the boys went back outside to work on the elk. After I insisted on helping Edith carry the dishes out to the kitchen, she shooed me upstairs.
Rachel was in her bedroom with a new bottle of wine she’d just uncorked.
“I hope you like red wine,” she said. “I love a good Bordeaux after dinner.”
“That sounds good to me,” I said, as I sank down onto her bed and accepted the glass she’d poured.
“I wanted to show you some of my property, so you can decide where you want to go next summer.”
She opened a photo album. It was like looking through a tour guide. I flipped through several pages.
“You own all these?” I was amazed.
“Yes. The only thing I like about hotels is room service, but with the right housekeepers that isn’t necessary and the choice of food is always better. I do
