Today's Reading

In her teenage years, when all her classmates were worrying about exams and colleges, she'd decided to avoid the stress by taking a year off to go backpacking. While Grace and her other friends had been horrified (albeit more than a little envious), Leonie's parents were fully supportive.

In fact, about the only major decision she'd given real consideration was agreeing to marry Adam, and clearly, she should've thought even harder about that, she mused, heart sinking a little, as she dragged her backpack up the steps.

But upon entering the apartment, her mood lifted almost immediately, and Leonie was struck once again by the angled bay window dominating the living room, flooding it with light and sunshine. She guessed that she'd while away many an evening on the window seat drinking in those amazing views across the bay. It was the perfect spot for curling up with a good book.

And while it was tempting to "hide away" (as Grace put it) in a place so cozy and comforting, she was determined not to get maudlin. No more moping about; she'd done enough of that already. She'd take a few days to settle in and then make it her business to explore the area properly. The city was so compact, you could see a lot of it on foot, and if walking the vertiginous hills got to be too much, she could always play tourist and hop on a cable car.

But first things first, she decided, wrinkling her nose. This place needed a good spring clean. A sheen of dust lay on the living room coffee table and over the mantelpiece, and the adjoining kitchen (although it was more of a kitchenette) looked decidedly grubby.

She dumped her backpack in the bedroom, deciding to head straight back out to pick up some supplies. There was a mini-mart at the end of the street, so she should be able to get enough cleaning paraphernalia to keep her occupied for a bit. And while she was at it, she might as well stock up on essentials. She'd do a full shop at one of the bigger stores soon, but the place wouldn't really be home until she'd enjoyed a cuppa.

An excited thrill ran up her spine as the reality of making her first cup of tea in her own little place in San Francisco struck her.

But could anywhere ever truly feel like home without Adam?

The thought of him appeared unbidden yet again, and Leonie quickly brushed it aside. Enough. No more mulling over the past.

This place signified a fresh start, a blank page even, and by the time she was finished with it, she thought determinedly, putting her hands on her hips as she surveyed her new surroundings, it would soon start to feel like home.

Later, having scrubbed the living room and the somewhat neglected kitchen from top to bottom, she eventually made her way to the bedroom, which to her relief didn't look like it needed a whole lot of work, apart from vacuuming the carpets and cleaning out the wardrobes.

Standing on a kitchen chair to give her enough height, Leonie set about dusting inside the wardrobe, or closet as they called it here, she recalled, smiling.

It was old, practically an antique of dark redwood, and could well be of similar age as the house itself. She'd read that a lot of these houses had been constructed with the then easily available (and fire-resistant) native timber.

She reached inside and swept a duster along the surface, intending to give the shelf no more than a swipe. Then she frowned as it connected with something. Peering into the darkness, she saw what looked to be a small wooden box hidden deep in the back. The last tenants had obviously left her a housewarming present of unwanted crap. Sighing, she dragged the box across the shelf, intending to place it on the floor and out of her way.

But the container was heavier than expected, and catching her off guard, it went tumbling to the ground. The little gold catch on the front fell open, and the contents, a collection of envelopes loosely wrapped in string, were strewn all over the floor.

She grunted in annoyance, deciding that it was probably a sign that she'd done enough for one afternoon. Not to mention a very good excuse for another cuppa.

Standing up, Leonie roughly gathered together the spilled envelopes, realizing they appeared unopened. She picked one up for closer examination. It was indeed sealed and addressed to a previous occupant.

Helena Abbott.

Same for each and every one of the letters.

Weird.

The box in her arms, she went back out to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. While waiting for it to boil, she sat by the bay window and further examined the envelopes, her curiosity piqued. The handwriting on each was identical, the same elegant cursive script. Beautiful, almost like calligraphy.

Why hadn't these been opened? Assuming the addressee had previously lived here and stored the letters away, why hadn't she bothered to open them? Or taken them with her when she moved out? Perhaps she'd forgotten about them hidden away in the back of the wardrobe.

The kettle boiled, and Leonie reminded herself that it was none of her business either way. Putting the stuff aside, she moved to the kitchen and went about making a fresh cup of tea.

But her curiosity managed to get the better of her, and mug in hand, she returned to the windowsill and set the box on her lap, resting the mug of tea alongside her.

Lifting the lid, she took the envelopes out again and turned each of them over one by one. No return address either, so it was impossible to tell where they'd originated. She peered closer at the postmark, trying to see if this might yield anything, but there was nothing more than a partially blurred generic ink mark.


This excerpt ends on page 18 of the paperback edition.

Monday we begin the book The Book of Fire by Christy Lefteri.
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