I haven't bothered you with a 'snippet' from WIDOW'S TALE in awhile. I know you've all been so upset.
The room was frigid, the warmth of the fire upstairs long forgotten. Brett was conscious of Serena’s fingers entwined with his as she guided them past the bank of windows into a short hall flanked by blackened chambers.
Doorways to the unknown.
In a whisper, Serena chronicled what each quarter represented.
"This is the den to the right, and on the left is a guest room, and towards the far end there, was—the bedroom."
Brett felt a stab of shame for resenting the happiness his brother once had, but Alan was foolish enough to damage a good thing.
Flashlight held aloft, Brett slipped ahead of Serena into the den. Erratic sweeps of the light dissected the darkness. In its scope, the flare encompassed bookshelves with threadlike cobwebs linked to the recessed ceiling. He swept the light over a wooden desk adorned with a blotter, brass lamp, and photo of Serena and Alan. Brett scooped up the framed picture and heard Serena’s startled gasp behind him. She too saw that the glass had been shattered, their faces obscured behind a web of jagged shards.