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dual-paned and with the double entryway doors, though it might be minus forty outside, it still feels snug.”
    “So you’ve stayed here during the winter,” said Steve , surprised. “I’d think it would get too cold and isolated for a woman out here all alone.”
    “I like the solitude,” returned Tia shortly , turning back to the stove and ladling the steaming soup into a bowl. She placed it and two chunks of thick oatmeal bread swimming in melted butter before him. Steve gazed at the offered food hungrily, rubbing his large hands together.
    “And I thought the food at Timberline Lodge was good.” Without further adieu he spooned some hot liquid into his mouth before taking a bite out of the oatmeal bread and giving her a fervent thumbs-up. After a few swallows he slowed down enough to mumble, “This is mighty fine, Madam.”
    “Please don’t call me madam,” laughed Tia. “It makes me feel old and gray. My name’s Tia.”
    “Tia it is then. You know, I don’t think I would have ever gotten my ex, Cindy, to come up to a place like this. She really didn’t like camping and fishing, preferring the hot tub and big deck where she could entertain all her friends.” He glanced around at the beautiful simplicity of the compact cabin and nodded. “You know there is something elemental about being free and on your own again. I could get used to a place like this.”
    Tia nodded sympathetically and found herself more and more attracted to the man. By the time Steve finished his meal the wind howled against the sturdy log sides of the cabin. Steve helped Tia wash the dinner dishes and returned to the front room. For the first time he noticed the lighted monitor.
    “Are you a writer?” he asked.
    “Of a sort,” said Tia shyly. “I’m a children’s novelist and have been working on a story located in Glacier Bay. In fact, I plan to head down there in a couple of weeks to begin researching the puffin.”
    “The puffin,” said Steve , crinkling his brow. “You mean the bird?”
    “That’s right. If you’ve ever seen a puffin you r ealize what a comical creature he is. I’ve selected him to be a special friend to my little hero in the novel. I’m hoping to get this book finished in about a month’s time to send to my publisher.”
    “You mean to say you’re a published author,” verified Steve, looking astonished.
    “You might say that; this will be my fourth book.”
    “A writer of sorts, my eye,” protested Steve, wandering around the room and surveying the paintings of wildlife decorating the rough wooden walls. Tia quickly turned off the monitor as sudden modesty gripped her.
    “This is one mighty fine book collection,” said Steve , perusing the enormous bookcase facing the room. “Is there anything you don’t have?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t have many books on fishing,” replied Tia , and Steve laughed, the lines around his eyes crinkling attractively.
    “Ah, The Last of the Mohicans,” he crooned, pulling out the volume and turning to the title page. “Who’s Paul Dale?” asked Steve, reading the inscription.
    “M y ex-fiancé. He knew I particularly liked the classics. He not only gave me the Cooper, but also the complete works of Doyle, as well as the poetry of Emily Dickinson. In a lot of ways he was really nice.”
    “Was?” asked Steve, turning to face her.
    “Yes. He had a fidelity problem as well.”
    Steve instantly recognized she didn’t want to talk a bout it and continued browsing the bookcase before moving over to the large double cabinet. “What’s in here?”
    “Videos! If you ever need a movie come to Tia’s video rental,” laughed Tia, hurrying to his side and opening the double cabinet doors.
    “Wow, The Terminator ; that’s one of my favorites,” said Steve, pulling out the slip cover depicting a burly and menacing Arnold Schwarzenegger. “So you have electricity?”
    “Not exactly,” smiled Tia. “The cabin runs on a generator and as long as I