had declared them delightful. By then, he never went against his wife’s wishes, knowing it always led to an argument. So the stars remained. She was surprised now—and a little pleased—they had survived last year’s renovation.
Libby did not have to be at Woodmont until eight. But the longer she stared at the stars, the more worries nibbled at her. Another worst-case list materialized. Elaine forgets she’s hired me. More rain. Overcast skies. All my shots are boring and expose me as the newbie photographer that I really am.
More aggravated with each passing wakeful moment, she finally tossed back her covers and got up. Carefully, she folded the quilt and draped it over the couch.
Grabbing her pillow, she climbed the stairs and carefully placed the pillow on her bed. In the adjoining bathroom, she turned on the shower. As steam rose, she glanced in the mirror at her hollow cheeks and pale skin. On her return home last night, she’d had a few more glasses of wine, making the grand total too much.
No amount of hydration or coffee was going to soften the dark circles or hollow cheeks. “Damn it, Libby.”
She stripped off her oversize T-shirt and stepped under the hot spray, willing it to pummel the stiffness and fatigue from her body. She lathered her hair in rose-scented shampoo and washed with fragrant bodywash. If she did not feel great, she could at least smell good. Twenty minutes later makeup was applied, and she was dressed in black jeans, a loose white T-shirt, and sneakers.
She brewed a pot of coffee and, after filling her cup, moved out to the front porch, where she checked her email on her phone. The tree-lined street was quiet as the nearly full moon hovered just above the horizon.
The emails in her in-box were standard. One client wanted a retouch, complaining her pictures had made her look too heavy. One bride thought she did not look tanned enough and wanted to be photoshopped. There were three new inquiries from potential brides-to-be. And a local real estate group that wanted headshots for the newest members of their million-dollar club. All good for the company, but still boring.
Her mind drifted to the greenhouse covered in moss and dead foliage, concealing a broken fountain and a pack of small animals that had likely lived for generations in the shadows of silence.
She checked the time. Over two hours to go before her appointment. Still, Woodmont was a working farm, and everyone would be up early.
After pouring her morning coffee into her travel mug, she grabbed her cameras and put them all in the back seat of her car. As she started the drive out of town, she tried to script what to say to Elaine and Colton when she arrived two hours early.
Pulling into the long driveway past the twin pillars, she determined her early arrival was attributed to the morning light. For a photographer, it was the purest, and she would capture the best of the greenhouse’s domed roof.
Libby parked in the circular driveway and then climbed out of the car, grabbing her cameras and flashlight from the back seat. She strung two cameras around her neck and, after clicking on the flashlight, retraced the path she had driven with Colton and Elaine yesterday. Trees ripe with foliage blocked most of the remaining moonlight, making it tougher to track.
As she eased down the dark road, she calculated how long it would take for someone to find her if she fell. If her body was on the road, less than a few hours, she thought. If she rolled into a gully, it could be considerably longer. After doing the calculations, she moved closer to the middle of the road, knowing rescue crews would have a better chance of finding her and getting an ambulance to the scene so she could be carted to the trauma center in Charlottesville.
Too curious about the greenhouse, she pushed aside fear and followed the glow of the flashlight. The dark road narrowed as it sloped toward the river. The dirt, now mud from last night’s rain, stuck to her shoes, staining the sides as she left impressions of her footsteps.
“Damn it.”
The morning air was already warm, and by the time she saw the structure, her shirt was damp. The sun was nearing the horizon and bringing with it streaks of gold and orange light.
She angled her body through the open door and moved to the center of the greenhouse. Enveloped by the thick, moist