She went one cool summer night in a vintage Thun-
derbird convertible， the last personal possession she
still owned free and clear. She started out in a rage in
Chicago about midnight and drove toward no partic-
ular destination at first. It just felt good to go， with her
hair whipping in the wind and the radio blasting rock
and roll.
But around four in the morning， after aimless driv-
ing along highways she d never known existed， Liza
found herself in Wisconsin just ten miles from Tyler.
After that， it was like automatic pilot. In the dark， she
drove the white car up t*o the lake and her grandfath-
er s lodge， which she figured would be empty， Liza
didn t want to see anybody. The last thing she needed
was a damned heart-to-heart with some well-meaning
family member. Or worst of all， her mother.
Liza just wanted to be alone.
The sky began to lighten as she turned into the lane
marked by two brick columns and started up the hill-
side under the canopy of century-old trees. The air was
hushed. Magical， really. A dreamy white mist eddied
upward from the lake and engulfed the car in a kind
of swirling cloud.
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