“John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. But Sheppard was not to be silenced. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. Give me my pistol and my dagger. Cocking the gun. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets.
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