Christmas, a Cabin and a Stranger

By Sally Breslin

Laurel’s only Christmas wish is to get as far away from the city, the festivities and especially her ex-boyfriend (who also happens to be her boss), as possible and spend the month of December working on her first novel.

When a rental agent locates a cabin deep in the woods and offers it to Laurel, she leaps at the opportunity to stay there for the month. But as soon as she arrives, she senses that something isn’t right about the place. For one thing, she feels she constantly is being watched, even though the area is completely isolated. And then there is Doug, who appears on her doorstep one morning. He is handsome, helpful and friendly, and Laurel immediately is attracted to him. But he carefully avoids divulging any information about himself, other than he lives nearby, whenever she attempts to get to know him better.

And he leaves no footprints in the snow...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sally Breslin
• Release date: Nov 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005467166

Sally Breslin

Sally A. Breslin was born and raised in New Hampshire, where she still resides, so she is a true New Englander through and through.She developed a passion for writing at a young age and began keeping a daily journal when she was only 12, which she has continued to do ever since. She says her journals are like having her own time machine because, for example, she can look up what she ate for breakfast or watched on TV on any given day.Her work first was published in the 1960s when she became a stringer for a New York-based magazine called DATEBOOK, which provided her with the opportunity to interview many of the famous entertainers of that era. For over 20 years, she worked as a newspaper correspondent and photographer for a number of New Hampshire-based newspapers, covering everything from presidential primaries to local bake sales.From 1984 –2013 she also interpreted dreams in her weekly newspaper columns, “What Do Your Dreams Mean?” and "Dreams...with Sally Breslin," which led to a regular spot on WJYY Radio as “The Dream Lady,” as well as numerous other guest spots on radio shows across the country. She also was contacted by the FX Network in the early ‘90s and was offered a regular segment on its new morning show, “Breakfast Time,” with Tom Bergeron – which she turned down because it would have required her to move to New York.From 1994 – 2016 she wrote a weekly humor column, "My Life," which was published in six New England newspapers. In 1996, she was named the New Hampshire Press Association’s columnist of the year.She also has taught humor-writing classes for Concord Community Education.Her short stories have been published in dozens of magazines and also in the books: "A Second Chicken Soup for the Woman’s Soul," "Chicken Soup for the Soul at Christmas," "The Dog Really Did That?," and "Belly Laughs and Babies," for which she won a national humor-writing contest.She currently writes a syndicated humor column, “Alive and Kidding,” for the Senior Wire News Service in Colorado, and a local humor column, “Sally’s World,” for the Senior Beacon newspaper in New Hampshire.Her humor columns, both new and archived, can be read on her blog: www.sallythedreamlady.com.Sally’s first novel, "There’s a Tick in my Underwear!," which is based on her 1962 journal, is a humorous coming-of-age story about wilderness camping and young love. She also has written two suspense novels, “Heed the Predictor” and the sequel, “Conceal the Predictor,” about a young woman who knows the exact date, time and way in which every person she meets will die.She was married to her late husband Joe for 41 years, and currently resides out in the country with her two guard dogs. She enjoys walking two miles every day, candlepin bowling, playing Word Whomp online and riding on old-fashioned wooden roller coasters.

Book preview

CHRISTMAS, A CABIN AND A STRANGER

A Novella by

SALLY A. BRESLIN

 Copyright 2020 Sally A. Breslin

Cover Design – Sally A. Breslin (and Canva)

DEDICATED TO:

Bobby Dee & Paul and Nancy Baptiste

For allowing me to pick their brains!

This book is a work of fiction. Although some of the locations and celebrities mentioned actually exist, they are used in a purely fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All other characters also are works of fiction. Any names or characteristics similar to those of any person, past or present, are purely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

Laurel Winston tugged the collar of her woolen coat up around her chin to shield the wind as she walked up the winding, snow-covered path to the cabin she’d recently rented. The trees surrounding it seemed as tall as skyscrapers, blocking out most of the late-afternoon sunlight.

Her eyes darted about, taking in the landscape of the unfamiliar area that would be her home for the next month.

Inadvertently she shivered. Someone is watching me. I can feel it.

The cabin, a rustic structure, made entirely of thick logs, was located in the center of twelve heavily wooded acres in New England, with a view of the mountains. The nearest neighbor, according to the rental agent, was about a mile down the dirt road that led to the property. Yet Laurel couldn’t dismiss the feeling she wasn’t alone.

Alone. It was the reason why she had rented the cabin for the entire month of December. She didn’t want to take part in any of the Christmas festivities in the city where she lived. She didn’t want to be forced to pretend she was having a great time at her friends’ parties or enjoying the gift she usually got stuck with during the traditional Yankee swap (last Christmas it had been two crocheted toilet-roll covers in shades of purple). She also didn’t want to expose her stomach to any more foods she’d never eaten or even heard of before…foods the hostess had decided to make from some recipe she’d clipped over five years earlier and wanted to test out on her unsuspecting guests.

No, Laurel didn’t want any part of it.

What she did want was to spend the holiday season alone, working undisturbed on her novel. No phone calls, no texts, no TV news broadcasts, no visitors – just complete, blissful solitude.

Laurel hadn’t previously seen the cabin, other than online, so she prayed as she thrust the key into the lock on the pitted, oaken door, that the interior would look even slightly similar to the photos the rental agent had sent to her. She was well aware that photos usually were taken at angles and in lighting that made them look a heck of lot more appealing than the actual property. Already, she noticed the exterior appeared to be a lot more rustic and less structurally sound than she had anticipated. It made her wonder if a strong wind or a heavy snowstorm could flatten it.

Please, don’t let this place be a dump! I’m stuck living here for a month.

She opened the creaky door and hesitated, allowing a moment for any four-legged squatters that might have been living in the cabin to scurry out before she stepped inside. To her relief, nothing scurried. Also to her relief, the interior looked pretty much like the photos. It consisted of only one large room, but it appeared to contain everything she needed. To her left was a massive fieldstone fireplace with an upholstered loveseat and rocking chair facing it. To the right was a small kitchen area with a two-burner stove, sink and refrigerator. In the center of the room stood a pine table flanked by four chairs. And against the back wall was a full-sized four-poster bed next to a night table with a lamp on it. The floor was made of wide, pinewood planks with a braided rug in several shades of gray covering a good portion of it. The windows had interior wooden shutters that could be closed to block out light…or Peeping Toms.

Laurel immediately closed the shutters, then reached for the light switch on the wall. When she’d searched online for a cabin to rent, the three things she’d insisted upon were electricity, indoor plumbing, and at least fair cell-phone reception, in case of an emergency. None of the half-dozen or so cabins the rental agent found for her met all of her criteria, however…until this one. Still, she held her breath as she flipped the switch. A globe-shaped ceiling light over the kitchen sink popped on. And above the table, a chandelier made of intertwined branches with three bulbs in the center of it lit up. Laurel immediately noticed that one bulb remained dark.

Oh, well. At least I have electricity. I can live without the third bulb.

She hadn’t noticed any power lines, a generator or solar panels, so she assumed there must be an electrical cable buried underground somewhere, probably running directly from the neighbor’s place a mile away.

She continued to explore her temporary home, testing the kitchen faucet to see if there