Secrets of Hallstead House Read Online Free PDF

her. Valentina grunted that that was her job and she would do it. As she walked off carrying a tray laden with coffee, eggs, fresh fruit, and a muffin, I sat down in the dining room to tea, toast, and a banana.
    She returned to the kitchen shortly but didn’t stay long. She ignored me and went out the back door. I ate quickly and washed my own dishes, not wishing to give her any more reason to resent my presence, and then set off for Miss Hallstead’s rooms, anxious to get started with my new patient.
    I knocked on Miss Hallstead’s sitting room door and she answered immediately, calling out, “Come in, Macy.” When I entered, she was standing by the sofa in a long light-blue nightgown, her hair flowing down her back—I wouldn’t have guessed it was so long! She greeted me cheerfully and suggested that I wait while she dressed. I offered to help her, but as she had done the night before, she refused.
    I had her physicians’ orders and her medical file, so I took those and waited for her in the library. Having already read them the night before, I began browsing again through all the books. After several minutes, I came to the section on the Saint Lawrence River, from which I had taken the Paul Malo work. This morning I was quickly drawn to a beautiful book of photographs of the Saint Lawrence River and the Thousand Islands. Leafing through the book, I started to become more acutely aware of the astounding beauty of this region of North America. There were pictures of every season, of people and landscapes, wildlife and waterscapes. I drank in the beauty of every photo slowly and, after quite some time, was interrupted by Miss Hallstead, leaning slightly on her cane in the library doorway.
    “Aren’t Ian Coristine’s photographs amazing?” she asked, nodding at the book I was holding.
    “They’re breathtaking,” I agreed. “I’d love to actually visit some of these places sometime.”
    “You will. You passed several of the islands featured in that book on your trip here from Cape Cartier.
    “As a matter of fact,” she continued, “Summerplace is in there, too.” She came toward me and reached for the book, then flipped several pages and pointed to a picture of Summerplace taken from a low-flying airplane. It was a gorgeous photograph. It had been taken on a brilliantly sunny day and I could see the entire island rising starkly from the still, slate-blue water. Only the rooftop of the home, crowned by its magnificent weathervane, was visible through the thick forest of trees encompassing every shade of green. Seeing this photo gave me a better perspective of the size and shape of Hallstead Island.
    I placed the book of photographs back on its shelf and turned to Miss Hallstead. “Shall we walk outside a bit? It’s a good, easy way for you to start warming up your muscles, plus it feels great out there—I’ve already had a walk this morning.”
    Miss Hallstead agreed to accompany me. “If you’re going to walk outside, you should probably change your shoes,” I noted, pointing to the stylish, low-heeled pumps she wore with her pantsuit.
    “No,” she answered flatly. “I’m wearing these.”
    “Okay,” I acquiesced reluctantly. “We’ll just take it nice and slow. Will you at least put on a coat?”
    “That I’ll do, my dear.” Miss Hallstead smiled back, and after she donned a warm fall jacket, we set out. She held my arm as we slowly descended the stone front steps, but after that she used only her cane for support. We walked slowly, staying on the flagstone path close to the house, and as we progressed, Miss Hallstead told me a little more about the Thousand Islands.
    “The Europeans—actually, the French—‘discovered’ the river in 1535,” Miss Hallstead began. “Jacques Cartier was a French explorer looking for a northern passage to Asia when he happened upon the river. Until the French appeared, this entire area was largely under the control of the Confederacy of the