![]() ![]() The gears ground as the Kia struggled up the narrow, slippery island road. Instead you had to haul us off to a deserted island in the middle of the North Atlantic where we’ll probably get eaten by polar bears! You’ve never heard of Miami Beach? Crumpet, the spoiled princess in the suitcase retorted. Hell was this bleak, hostile winter island. Annie decided that anybody who believed in hell as a fiery furnace had it all wrong. How could you bring me to this awful place?Īn icy blast rocked the car, and the branches of the old fir trees hovering over the unpaved road whipped like witches’ hair. You know I hate the cold, her suitcase replied, in the annoying whine of a child who preferred making a point by stamping her foot. ![]() ![]() “Just because it feels like the end of the world doesn’t mean it is.” “It’s only a little snow,” she told the oversize red suitcase wedged into the passenger seat. ![]() The high beams of her headlights could barely penetrate the dark, swirling chaos of the winter blizzard, and the windshield wipers on her ancient Kia were no match for the wrath of the storm that had hit the island. Without you visionary women, I would not be a writer.ĪNNIE DIDN’T USUALLY TALK TO her suitcase, but she wasn’t exactly herself these days. I owe my love of reading to your magical novels. In memory of Mary Stewart, Anya Seton, Charlotte Brontë, Daphne du Maurier, Victoria Holt, and Phyllis Whitney. ![]()
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