波波小说

第23部分（第1页）

From　the　first；　Jeffs　family　had　adored　her。　They　had　always　insisted

that　they　would　hold　Jeff　personally　to　blame　if　the　marriage　ended。　In

that　spirit；　they　had　stayed　so　close　to　Annes　side　that　she　had　to

finally　beg　them　for　space。　They　had　eased　off；　but　with　reluctance。

Annes　parents　had　persisted；　urging　her　to　give　up　the　apartment　and

move　back　home；　but　she　refused。　She　knew　that　as　crammed　with　reminders

of　Jeff　as　the　apartment　was；　it　was　better　than　the　Westchester　home

where　she　had　grown　up。　To　return　there　would　be　an　admission　of

failure…failure　to　make　the　kind　of　happy　life　her　parents　had。

A　ghost　of　a　smile　lifted　the　corners　of　her　lips。　Her　childhood　had

been　happy　indeed；　even　those　awkward　adolescent　years　when　she　was　an

ugly　duckling；　by　modest　accounts。　Oh；　her　parents　denied　it；　but　the

mirror　didnt　lie；　and；　anyway；　the　ugly　duckling　became　a　swan　well

before　the　Senior　Prom。　By　that　time　she　was　quiet　and　graceful；

thriving　academically；　socially；　and　emotionally。　Nothing　in　her　rosy

first　twenty…seven　years　had　even　remotely　begun　to　prepare　her　for　the

heartbreak　at　the　start　of　her　twenty…eighth。

Brought　back　to　the　present　by　a　pang　of　hunger；　she　closed　the

untouched　book　and　went　to　the　kitchen。　She　flipped　on　a　single　light；

mixed　tuna　into　a　salad；　put　a　pot　of　coffee　on　to　perk；　and　toasted　rye

bread。　With　the　sandwich　plate　in　one　hand　and　a　coffee　mug　in　the

other；　she　retraced　her　steps；　flipping　the　light　off　with　a　nudge　of

the　elbow。

Her　hunger　surprised　her。　Unusual　for　her；　she　finished　the　sandwich。

Revived；　she　sat　back　in　the　chair；　the　mug　warming　her　hands　as　the

fire　warmed　her　feet；　and　it　suddenly　struck　her　that　she　was　beginning

to　feel。　It　had　been　months　since　she　had　smelled　coffee　brewing　or　felt

the　barefoot　plushness　of　a　carpet。　But　the　coffee　did　smell　good。　Same

with　the　burning　logs　and　the　pines　outside；　and　her　feet　did　feel；

albeit　smooth　sanded　oak　planks　rather　than　the　thick　carpeting　of　home。

Pushing　the　glasses　up　on　her　nose；　she　stared　at　the　biography；　but　it

wasnt　a　biography　kind　of　night。　Jumping　up；　she　returned　to　her　room

for　a　replacement。　Mystery　or　romance…the　choice　was　easy。　A　romance

might　appeal　to　her　later　in　the　week；　when　she　was　feeling　stronger。

She　took　the　mystery　and　set　off。

The　addition　of　several　logs　brightened　the　blaze　in　the　hearth。　Edging

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