Lenora flipped through her old French cookbook looking for continental breakfast ideas.
The small wooden barrel she found at the beach rested on the counter with the initials L.J.S. facing the wall.
Her husband Alerion couldn’t know what she had found and now buried in the Château de Montagne herb garden.
A small thunk like a broom handle hitting the floor followed by something dragging caused her to whip around quickly.
Across the kitchen an old wooden cupboard screeched open slowly. Lenora watched in frozen petrification as a small paper sack of pastry flour was promptly pushed off the shelf.
Danny Machal June 11th, 2015