The morning after the storm broke with a breathtaking, blinding clarity. High above the valley floor, the sky was a sheet of polished cobalt, devoid of a single cloud. A heavy, virgin blanket of fresh snow covered the land, smothering every contour of the orchard, the riverbanks, and the distant mountain trails under two feet of untouched white. The air outside was cold enough to turn breath to frost in an instant, crisp and razor-sharp against the skin.
Inside the main hall, the cold had no purchase. The thick granite foundation and heavy oak frame held the interior in an unyielding embrace of quiet warmth. The central hearth glowed with deep, steady heat, its amber embers feeding on fresh oak logs that crackled softly against the dark river slate.
I stood by the broad front window, loo
