Twelve Across Read Free Page A

the second envelope.
    "For Garrick. Deliver it for me? "
    Leah took it, then turned it over and over. It was sealed and opaque, with the trapper s name written on the front in Victoria s elegant script. "A love letter? " she teased, tapping the tip of the envelope against her nose.
    "Somehow I caci t imagine you with a craggy old trapper. "
    "Craggy old trappers can be very nice: '
    "Are there lots of them up there? "
    "A few:' " don't they smell? "
    Victoria laughed. "That's precious, Leah: '
    "They dori t? "
    "Not badly"
    "Oqh. Okay. Well, that's good. Y'know, this trip could well be educational ' qat was, in many ways, how Leah thought of it as she worked her way through the midtown traffic. The car was packed to the hilt with clothing and other essentials, boxes of books, a tape deck and three cases of cassettes, plus sundry supplies. She had dozens of plans, projects to keep her busy over and above the crossword puzzles she intended to create.
    Filling her mind with these prospects was in part a defense mechanism, she knew, and it was successful only to a point. There remained a certain wistfulness in leaving the loft where she d been independent for the first time in her life, saying goodbye to the little man at the corner kiosk from whom she d bought the Times each day, bidding a silent farewell to the theacers and restaurants and museums she woulddt be visiting for a while.
    The exhaust fumes that surrounded her were as familiar as the traffic.
    Not so the sense of nostalgia that assailed her as she navigated the Golf through the streets. She d loved New York from the time she d been old enough to appreciate it as a city. Her parents apartment had been modest by New York standards, but Central Park had been free to all, as had Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Center and Washington Square.
    Memories. A few close friends. The kind of anonymity she liked. Such was New York. But they d all be there when she returned. Determinedly squaring her shoulders, she thrust off sentimentality in favor of practicality, which at the moment meant avoiding swerving taxis and swarming pedestrians as she headed toward the East River.

    Traffic was surprisingly heavy for ten in the morning, and Leah was the kind of driver others either loved or hated. When in doubt she yielded the road, which meant grins on the faces of those who cut her off and impatient honks from those behind her. She was relieved to leave the concrete jungle behind and start north on the thruway.
    It was a sunny day, mild for March, a good omen, she decided. Though she d brought heavier clothes with her, she was glad she'd worn a pair of lightweight knit pants and a loose cashmere sweater for the drive. She was comfortable and increasingly relaxed as she coasted in the limbo between city and country.
    By the time she reached the outskirts of Boston, it was two o'clock and she was famished. As eager to stretch as to eat, she pulled into a Burger King on the turnpike and climbed from the car, pausing only to grab for her jacket before heading for the restaurant. The sun was lost behind cloud cover that had gathered since she d reached the Massachusetts border, and the air had grown chilly. Knowing that she had another three hours of driving before her, and desperately wanting to reach the cabin before dark, she gulped down a burger and a Coke, used the rest rooms, then was quickly on her way again.
    The sky darkened progressively. With the New Hampshire border came a light drizzle. So much for good omens, she mused siiently as she turned one switch after another until at last she hit paydirt with the windshield wipers.
    Within half an hour she set them to swishing double time.
    It was pouring. Dark, gloomy, cold and wet. Leah thanked her lucky stars that she d read the directions so many times before she d left, because she loathed the idea of pulling over to the side of the road even for the briefest of moments. With the typed words neatly etched in her brain, she was able to