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would work for a beverage, along with coffee.  Again, she was thankful for the items she always carried with her on the road, which included a small coffee maker and a grinder for coffee beans.  Thinking of this, she added a package of French Roast coffee beans to her other selections.  Impulsively, she grabbed a mixed cluster of fresh cut freesia and iris, along with a few small votive candles, to make the cabin feel a little more like home.  She checked out at a front register and added the new purchases to the growing inventory in the trunk of her car.
    The drive back through town was an easy one.  Even with a few mid day tourists cruising along, the traffic seemed almost nonexistent to Paige, being used to the frenzied pace of New York City.  She made a left turn at the intersection of Broadway and Cache streets and headed in the direction of the cabin.  Before long, the road passed into the wide, open space that bordered the north side of town.  The rain had now let up completely and bright rays of light cascaded down from between the remaining clouds.  Appaloosas grazed in a field to her left, gathered in by long stretches of wooden fencing that allowed the horses a generous space to roam.
    Twenty minutes later she arrived at the small cabin, pulled her car up alongside the porch and popped open the trunk.  There was no sign of Dan and the workshop appeared to be closed.  As she approached the front door of the cabin, she found a note tucked into the door jamb.
    “Gone to Idaho Falls for supplies.  Make yourself at home.  Back late tonight, Dan.”
    Paige looked around at the deserted property, realizing how quiet it suddenly seemed.  The noises at the inn had been second nature to her, being so minor compared to the sound level of Manhattan.  The street traffic had simply been soft background noise.   Late guest arrivals in nearby rooms had gone unnoticed.  Yet the absence of sound around her now was almost deafening.
    The door to the cabin creaked as she pushed it open and reached for the light switch.  A ceiling light flickered on as she stepped inside, casting a weak glow across the front room. She made a note to pick up a small reading lamp the next time she went into town.  It was unlikely the cabin’s dim light would be enough for writing.
    She unloaded the trunk of the car and set about arranging her new living accommodations.  With some effort and a few hefty grunts, she dragged the table inside and pushed it against the far wall.  She stacked her small collection of dishes to the right and set up the electric burner to the left.   Up above, she placed the canned and dry food goods on the lower of the two long shelves.  It took a little stretching to reach them, but it kept them out of the way.
    Searching around the yard outside, she found an old, green jar, halfway embedded in the ground.  Bringing it inside, she rinsed the dirt off the smooth, glass surface and arranged the freesia and iris in it, adding a few sprigs of greenery from one of several bushes alongside Dan’s barn.   She placed the makeshift flower vase on a small, square table in the second room, setting one of the votive candles beside it.  She then rolled out her sleeping bag on the narrow bed and fluffed up the pillow she had purchased in town.  This would do, she thought, as she sat down and looked around the room.  It was rustic and basic, but comfortable.  The bed and table, hand-crafted by Dan, were artfully designed in such a way that they blended perfectly with the antique log structure.  The cabin had everything she would need.  She was struck by how little it took to get by, thinking of the multitude of belongings at home that she had accumulated over the years.  Yes, the cabin would do nicely.
    With the weather improving after the morning rain, she moved to the doorway and stood for a few minutes, surveying the property.  A few old farm tools were propped against a shed about twenty yards away.