The curtains were partly drawn, showing a row of perfectly aligned albeit dusty ornaments along the windowsill. A china bell. A tiny figurine of a bal...erina. A roughly hewn clay pot, painted garishly with blue and red stripes that she’d made at primary school and given to Aunt Suzie for a birthday present. Beside the pot was a small wooden boat, the words ‘Uncle Charlie’ lovingly carved along the side. Ten-year-old Matt’s handiwork. She swallowed. Everything ordered and in its place. As though. She slid her burgundy lipstick over her lush lips and pressed them together to ensure an even coat. She was replacing the cap when the doorbell rang. Ugh! Of course. Just one more delay to ensure that she would never make it to the conference. Without thought to how she was dressed, she stomped downstairs to answer the door. Standing on her front porch was a Greek god. At six foot four with sandy brown hair cut close, a lean muscular build, and light golden eyes, she couldn’t reconcile the. More

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