She pulled on jeans, a rugged
cotton shirt, and a scarf. From the closet she collected her
riding boots and a vest. She refreshed her color with a slash of
blush across each cheek. Running a brush through her hair, she
caught the white flash of the remaining silk glove shrouding her
left hand. Casting her glance out the window, she removed it and
took a pair of worn leather riding gloves from her vest pocket.
She put them on, taking extra care with the left one, adjusting
it carefully so that it appeared to fit naturally. There.
She backed her car from the garage and slid her sunglasses on her
face and cruised down the twisting road, feeling a little buzzed
as the convertible gained speed, the wind whipping all around
her.
This area of Woodside was hilly and lush. Either side of the road
occasionally gave way to gated driveways or hedged walls. At
certain bends, off to the right and downhill, she could see the
small, artificial lake resting in the middle of this particular
smart-set valley. It was a short drive, her destination within
walking distance of her home had she chosen to take the footpath
that circled the lake.
She turned onto the long private drive. The hot pavement turned
to dusty road as she approached the ranch. She passed a small
stilted shed that marked the property line of the ranch.
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