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Chapter 3

Bill lugged his overnight bag and two suitcases down the short hallway and into the bedroom. Rumpled sheets on the bed and bath towels strewn on the floor greeted the tired and grubby guest.

"Bev must be a little behind schedule today."

A search of the premises turned up nothing that resembled clean linen, so he decided to at least change clothes before lunch. Sweatpants and a sweatshirt, worn under a fleece pullover, were barely sufficient to obstruct the brisk wind and dropping temperature, as he walked down the gravel path towards the farmhouse. The ominous clouds, once a distant threat, had nearly blotted out the blue sky.

‘Feels like snow,' he thought, walking head down and hands in pockets. ‘I'm heading south tomorrow.'

Coming to a fork in the road, and being someone who liked to peek down the road not taken, he lifted his head and saw a building under construction.

‘Must be the bunkhouse.' Curious, he turned to check the progress.

The long, two-story exterior was covered with a white vapor barrier and ...

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