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Eleanor slid her legs out from beneath the down duvet.
Her bare feet touched the wide-plank white pine floorboards. Beneath the polished wood, the gentle, radiant warmth of the geothermal heating pipes hummed against her soles.
She walked quietly to the arched casement window and looked out.
The four acres of formal gardens and the eighty acres of rolling pastures beyond were buried beneath six inches of pristine, unblemished white snow. Down along the winding driveway, a heavy John Deere tractor equipped with a hydraulic front blade was clearing the road in slow, methodical sweeps, its engine a low, rhythmic purr in the crystalline morning.
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From the great hall down the corridor came the rich, intoxicating aromas of roasting country ham, sizzling thick-cut bacon, fresh-baked buttermilk biscuits, and dark-roast coffee brewing in a copper percolator.
Eleanor pulled Caroline’s emerald-green robe around her shoulders, tying the sash tightly around her waist. She walked to the bed, bent down, and pressed her lips softly against Chloe’s warm, smooth forehead.
