Read The Winter Lodge for Free Online

did I offend? Did I upset some cosmic balance in the universe? Is that why all this shit is happening to me?”
    “Probably,” he said.
    She threw a pillow at him. “You’re a big help.”
    He threw it back. “You want to shower first, or me?”
    “Go ahead. I’ll just sit here and finish my coffee and contemplate my fabulous life.” She glanced down at the floor. “What are the dogs’ names?”
    “Rufus, Stella and Bob.” He pointed out each one. They were pets he’d rescued, he explained.
    “The cat’s name is Clarence.”
    Rescued. Of course, she thought.
    “They’re friendly,” he added.
    “So am I.” She scratched Rufus’s ears. He was a thick-coated malamute mix with ice-blue eyes.
    “Good to know,” Rourke said. “Help yourself to something to eat. Even if you’re not hungry, you should eat something. It’s going to be another long day.” He went across the hall, and a moment later she heard the radio, followed by the hiss and patter of running water.
    Jenny glanced at the clock. Too early to call Nina. Then she remembered Nina was up in Albany at some mayors’ convention. Jenny got up and went to the window, her legs feeling heavy, as if she’d just run a marathon, which was odd, because she hadn’t done anything all day yesterday except stand around in a state of shock and watch her house burn.
    Outside, the world looked remarkably unchanged. Her whole life was falling apart, yet the town of Avalon slumbered in peace. The sky was a thick, impenetrable sheet of winter white. Bare trees lined the roadway and the distant mountains wore full mantles of snow. From the window of Rourke’s house, she could see the small town coming to life, a few snow-layered vehicles venturing out after last night’s snowfall. Avalon was a place of old-fashioned, effortless charm. The brick streets and well-kept older buildings of its downtown area were clustered around a municipal park, the snow-covered lawns and playing fields edging up to the banks of the Schuyler River, which tumbled past in a soothing cascade over glistening, ice-coated rocks, leaving beards of icicles in its wake.
    This was the sort of town where stressed-out people from the city dreamed of coming to decompress. Some even retired here, buying a rolling acre or two for their golden years. In summer and during the fall leaf season, the country roads, which once held farm trucks and even the occasional horse-drawn buggy, were crowded with German-import SUVs, obnoxious Hummers and midlife-crisis sports cars.
    There were still untouched places, where the wilderness was just as deep as it had been hundreds of years before, forests and lakes and rivers hidden among the seemingly endless peaks of the mountains.
    From the top of Watch Hill—which now bore a cell-phone tower—you could imagine looking down on the forest where Natty Bumppo had hunted in Last of the Mohicans. It always struck Jenny as remarkable that they were only a few hours’ travel from New York City.
    Turning away from the window, she surveyed the room. No personal items, no photographs or mementos, no evidence that he had a life or a past or, God forbid, a family. Although she’d known Rourke McKnight since they were kids, a rift spanning several years yawned between them, and she’d never been in his bedroom. He’d never invited her and even if he had, she wouldn’t have come, not under normal circumstances. She and Rourke simply weren’t like that. He was complicated. Their history was more complicated. They were not a match. Not by a long shot.
    Because the fact was, Rourke McKnight was an enigma, and not just to Jenny. It was hard to see past the chiseled face and piercing eyes to the man beneath. He had many layers, though she suspected few were able to discover that. He intrigued people, that was for certain. Those who were familiar with state politics knew he was the son of Senator Drayton McKnight, who for the past thirty years had represented one of the