Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

were not on the floor, “Beggin’ your pardon Miss. The Captain asked me to see if you was all right since it looks like we are in for some weather this night and it would be best if you were to stay in your cabin.”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Could you please help me?”
“Oh, yes ma’am.” He crossed into her cabin, offered his hand, and helped her to her feet.
She was surprised at how strong he was. “Thank you.”
“May I bring you something hot to eat? The cook fires soon will be out and all that will remain until the storm has passed will be some biscuits and perhaps a bite of cheese.”
“How kind of you to ask.”
“Ma’am. “With that he turned away and left the cabin. He pulled the door shut, leaving her alone again.
    * * *
    “Hello. Max, you up there?” Jack’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs.
    “Up here,” she shouted back.
    Cat lifted her head to see what all the noise was about. When she saw it was Jack, she nonchalantly put her head back down and closed her eyes again.
    “Hey. What’re you up to?”
    “Reading.”
    He glanced at the couch and saw that it was the book she had found in the bar. “How is it?”
    “It’s surprisingly good. I’m finding it hard to put down”
    “Cool,” said Jack, happy to end the literary discussion there. “I ran into Dave while I was out. He said that Patti is really excited about this trip and that you should call her.”
    “I just talked to her this morning.”
    “Call her anyway.”
    “As soon as I finish this chapter.”

CHAPTER 8
    THE QUILT HOUSE WAS DOWN a long gravel drive that was lined with stone walls. To reach this destination, guests first had to follow a winding narrow road that was both cracked and tortured. The house, well over 200 years old, was situated on sixty-five acres in Leavitt Town, New Hampshire. The property included pine and hardwood forest, fields, and even some low-lying marsh down by the creek that ran across it. According to the brochure, for guests seeking a quiet getaway from the rigors of everyday life, it offered the perfect mix of quiet seclusion and relaxation in a historical location. As an antidote to the scrumptious home-cooked meals, there were miles of trails that could be used for hiking, biking, running, and cross-country skiing or snowshoeing—depending on the time of the year.
    The house itself, a huge, white, two-story colonial, had been built by Captain John Leavitt, who had fought at Lake George during the French and Indian War prior to the revolution. Leavitt Town, named after the Captain, was incorporated in 1778. According to census figures, by 1790 it had a population of 154. It took nearly 200 years for Leavitt Town to double in size. Then, in the last fifty years of the twentieth century, the town exploded to a population of almost 1500 residents.
    To the present owners, Malcom and Polly Christian, who bought the property from the last descendent of the Leavitt family in the late seventies, it was a dream come true. Prior to the purchase, they had traveled Europe extensively, finding it much more rewarding to stay in private homes than in stuffy hotels. The dream was born when the young couple decided to return home, find the right house, and open it up to weary travelers.
    Finding the house was the easy part. When they first saw the Leavitt House, they knew it was the right place. The house was far enough from the main roads that led to the mountains and lakes of northern New Hampshire that it felt quite remote, giving the out-of-state tourists a sense of real adventure. The reality was that after a short thirty-minute ride back to the highway, the lakes and mountains were only a little bit further up the road.
    Today, people around town call them visionaries, but when they bought the old run-down house, crazy was the more frequently used term. Together, they worked hard to make their dream come true. They did most of the work themselves, and as they learned new skills, they made and corrected mistakes. Perseverance was the key to their success.

CHAPTER 9
    IN THE BEGINNING, back in the seventies, while they scraped and painted, pulled weeds, and planted gardens, Malcom and Polly debated names for their new home. The Rocking Chair, The Leavitt House, and Polly’s Dream were all considered and eventually rejected. One day, Malcom was up in the attic repairing some cracked rafters. There was a lot of old furniture and boxes up in the attic that they had not yet had time to