David Baldacci New Book Novels & Stories

Alfred was able to park the car just briefly so that we both could get off, and the moment I stepped down from the car, I instantly regretted it. “Penelope Hilton, is it true the fire was no accident?” “Is this linked to Governor Nylander’s poisoning case?” “What happens now that you’ve lost your bakery? Will you step down and let professionals handle it?” That last one hit like a slap. The reporter—a woman with too-bright blush and a grin that made my stomach twist—seemed almost gleeful, like she couldn’t wait to write me off. “I dare you—say that again, bitch!” Jess roared, lunging forward before I could stop her.

I blushed and smoothed my coat, both of us laughing at the near accident. "You want some cocoa? I remember how good it was last time my mom brought me here," he offered, running a glove through his hair. I nodded, and he disappeared into the main building, weaving in and out of the growing crowd. I turned back to the lake, my breath frosting the air. The sun was starting to set, turning the fresh snow a golden red as it pulled the blanket of mountains up over its head. Below me on a second tier of the deck, a bonfire popped and crackled, the smoke rising gently into the deepening sky. I watched the dark tendrils of smoke fade into the oncoming twilight, feeling peaceful.