PROLOGUE

Not a good night for someone to die; might not be found for months, Donald thought, as he staggered out of his old pickup truck, and plodded his way through snow drifts along the short path to his front door. The new January snow had accumulated around the perimeter of his spare wooden house, as if it had acted like a magnet for the snow to envelope. He hadn’t bothered to leave the lights on or even lock the door. There wasn’t much of value in this home. Other than Ella and the children, there never had been.

He didn’t much like how he was feeling, but then it wasn’t so different from any other night of the week. Except that the food had been a bit better than his usual fare. My, but that Millie could cook up a storm, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, all the trimmings, slathered in gravy. Gravy so good he even licked his plate. He especially liked the look on Millie’s face as he did so. Hadn’t she just always been so prim and proper. But wasn’t Mary the generous one keeping his glass filled with James’ homemade wine. Had they laced it with hooch perhaps? It sure packed a whollop.

And why all the hullabaloo about inviting him over so soon after Christmas and all, even changing the date of the dinner party, when he said he couldn’t make it the other night. A man needs companionship now and again. And when he finds it in town and gets to bring it home for the night,who needs the fuss of family gatherings.

But this gathering had not been half bad. In fact, Mary even gave him a hug upon his arrival.
“We mustn’t leave it so long between visits, Donald. You know that even without Ella you are still part of our family. And all of the children are so precious to us.”

Precious indeed, since they hardly ever come calling. Mind you, what did he care, since Mary and Norman were taking care of them now; sure took a load off his mind and wallet. ‘Sides, a man his age shouldn’t be tied down with kids anyway.

Better not to tempt fate by trying to maneuver around the house. What if he were to fall and hit his head, like he did last summer, slashing his forehead open such as to require ten stitches. Sure was lucky that his sister had been dropping by that day to bring him a load of fresh corn from her farm.

Might as well take advantage of the sweet dizziness and climb into bed for a long winter’s sleep. No need to even stir the coals. He would just gather the down comforter around his body and wait ‘til morning to set a new fire.