“You don’t have to stand out in the cold, Eleanor,” Julian said, with a small wave of his hand.

“You can sit in the sunroom once we’re done loading up the master suite.”

“The air’s better outside,” I said.

I took my leather command briefcase by its reinforced handle and slipped past Harper into the cold morning air of the side walkway.

The wind off the ridge was sharp and dry and carried a faint whiff of woodsmoke from a chimney three houses down.

The streetlights along Elmwood Lane threw long, pale yellow circles over the frost on the grass.