.." I just looked at him. He explained. "She's Carolyn Smith-Montrose. One of the Montroses. And no, I don't know why she does what she does." Who eve... knows about women?" was my reply, but I was only making a joke to cover my confusion.In any case, I wandered down the hill to Montrose Hall. She was in the registry, fourth floor, room 417. I trudged up the steps. She wasn't home. I sat in the hall with my back against her door, pulled the camo hat down over my eyes, and waited."Well, aren't you. Bumps and bruises were the only evidence of the crash. That, and the two feet of pontoons in the lake. We ran through the options for rescue and all of them were ruled out. By the third or fourth option Havana started whimpering softly. Hal and I pitched the tent and arranged the supplies we saved. Liz took Havana back in the tent to try to calm her down.Hal and I busied ourselves collecting firewood and pit. When we sat down by the fire we heard soft muffled sounds coming from the tent. . More

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