Chapter One

Melissa stepped off the path, her feet crunching the dried leaves underfoot. She'd been curious about what was in the woods for years. She could hear the soft lapping of the lake water on its shores, and the rustle of the breeze through the leaves of the trees. The forest looked almost like something out of a fairy tale; it was beautiful and scary at the same time.

Suddenly she heard another rustle behind her, and she was sure it was not her own feet. Spinning, she gasped as she saw the end of a cloak as it whipped around the edge of a tree just a few feet away. Sprinting, she whirled around to see who—or what—it was. Looking up, she saw the brown fabric lash around another tree. She ran to that one also, but this time it was gone.


Startling at the sound of a sharp knock, Melissa tossed her sketchbook aside, kicking it underneath her bed as she went to go answer the door to her cottage.

The breeze blew the door inward, along with a lock of long, dark curls and the smell of a very expensive perfume. Michelle. She stepped aside, allowing her sister to step in. Oh, but Michelle never steps, Melissa thought, holding back a sneer. She swaggers.

"You could have simply shouted for me to come in," Michelle said with her nose to the air, strutting snobbishly into her room in a way that was so model-like it was disgusting. A new, silky dress swished around her legs as she walked, the garment clinging to her curves tighter than a bathing suit—and just as revealing as any bikini. She smiled as she saw her sister noticing her attire and said, "Mother said we'll be expecting a few guests in a half hour. She suggests you wear your best dress."

"How on earth did you make it around the lake with your new dress on?" Melissa fought to keep her voice in a question instead of a retort. "The cement is wet." It had rained just that afternoon, which was what had kept her in her cottage.

"I took the golf cart," her sister shrugged. "But you'll have to walk, I suppose. Keep yourself on the dry parts of the concrete." And with that, Michelle flounced out the door as quickly as she had come.

Melissa pictured the "golf cart" in her mind… it wasn't even true to its name. The thing was so fancy it could have been a mini car with no metal siding. Though her sister, without a doubt, would never settle for less.

Of course, she was on her way to her own bungalow, but she had spent the night up at the mansion with their parents the evening before. She'd insisted on it when it started raining at dinner, saying she couldn't possibly make it back to her cottage without ending up like a "drowned rat"—Lord forbid! Not a drowned rat! Melissa, of course, was not even allowed one of the lowly workers' gators to get across the lake. She'd had to walk.

The year the twins had turned eighteen, Michelle had requested a rather 'special' birthday present. She wanted to live in the old bungalows across the lake with their own bathrooms and kitchens. They were adults now and didn't want to live in the mansion anymore. Melissa especially wanted her own place, but never dared mention this.

And so they'd had the crews come in to fix up the cottages just to Michelle's liking. Melissa hadn't had a choice in what she wanted hers to look like, but was satisfied just to be out of the house and away from her demanding parents. That way, she could play the piano without anybody knowing about it.

Oh, she'd been playing the piano since she could remember, finding ways to teach herself, even staying after school with the music teacher and playing the grand piano in the main hallway in the mansion when nobody was home.

But Michelle provided barrier after barrier—and not just when it came to music. She hated the school bus and the runny-nosed kids at school. When the two twin sisters turned twelve, they were pulled out of school and started to be home schooled.

Now Melissa's mother could see first hand how 'dumb' she was.

She'd always been told so, at least by her mother, Lilly Manchelli. Melissa was stupid and Michelle was smart. Melissa was ugly and Michelle was pretty. Melissa was without talent and Michelle was beyond gifted. Even though they were born at the same time, they weren't identical twins. And the only reason Melissa could match with their favoritism was that Michelle was the one that appeared in the world first, even though she came only minutes afterward.

Never had Melissa understood why her mother called her an idiot when she got straight A's. Knowledge was the thing she was good at; she had a knack for memorization.

The minute her fingers touched the keys she knew that this was her talent. She'd never thought that she had a talent for school, but even if she had confidence when it came to knowledge, the piano created a warm feeling in her gut more than anything else had in the world, other than watching the kids' theatre perform in the school auditorium.

As for art, she'd been doodling in her notebooks since she was in school. She always loved to draw what she thought far-away places looked like, creating her own world and unable to resist the draw of someplace else. It didn't matter what place, as long as it took her away from home.

Melissa tugged herself from her thoughts, bringing herself back to the present. Sighing, she slipped into her closet to pick out her best dress, wondering what guests would be at the mansion that night. Of course, Michelle's dahling boyfriend—as her mother said it, Southern accent and all—would be there. It seemed he was at the table at every dinner. No, no. He was with Michelle every waking moment.

She pulled her wine-colored dress down over her head, the one her mother had bought for her, saying, "You need something besides that disgraceful white lace to wear to dinner." Actually, Melissa despised dresses altogether; but, as always, she would do anything to keep her mother from taking a knife to her.

She slipped the matching shoes onto her feet, muttering at the high heels. How was she going to make it around the lake—in these heels—in time for dinner? She swallowed and shrugged into her coat thinking all the while about what she would do when she came back to her cottage. Already she was planning the time she didn't have to spend with her parents at the mansion.

As she shut the door to her cabin and started walking through the trees, she couldn't resist the temptation to let her imagination run wild. Instead of a cement path weaving in and out of the damp tree trunks, she saw a warm orchard full of lively autumn colors. Instead of the rotten leaves coating the muddy ground in brown tones, she pictured vibrant hues of yellow, red, and orange. In the next moment, she was reminded of the picture she'd drawn during the last winter, something that resembled J.R.R. Tolkien's Rivendell.

Her mind filled with these pictures and thoughts, the walk to the mansion had gone by swiftly and soon she hurried through the oak double doors into the big house.

She'd followed the trail twisting and turning alongside the peaceful lake until she'd reached her parents' mansion on the other side. Her parents were filthy rich, and they owned the lake and all of the buildings around it. The outbuildings were mostly for the workers. Of course the other people were not to bother the family and provided their own meals, other than the cooks.

As for the mansion, it was gigantic and had several floors. Every hallway branched off of the main hallway, which was three stories high, and those hallways in turn sported several rooms themselves. Even the second and third stories begun at the main hallway; the two upper floors had balconies that wrapped around the inside of the hall and contained staircases that were used to access the balconies and the other floors.

"Our guest is expected in ten minutes," said a hard voice from further down the big hall, speaking just as soon as she'd turned from shutting the huge oak double doors behind her. "You're punctual tonight. Interesting."

"Good evening, Mother," Melissa breathed patiently, having long learned to ignore her mother's comments and her own anger in response, instead being patient and pretending like the words hadn't even been spoken. She resisted the temptation to reach down and rub her already sore ankles. She couldn't imagine the walk home that night when the sun was down, knowing she would step in countless puddles without being able to see. "Who are our guests tonight?"

"Why, two of them are already here. Why don't you go into the dining room; Michelle's already chatting with them," Mrs. Manchelli said, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. She threw a warning over her back, "Behave yourself."

"As if I hadn't ever before," Melissa muttered to herself, and she turned to walk into the dining room. Richard, Michelle's boyfriend, was sitting with her one side of the large table, while another familiar-looking man sat on the other.

Surprised to see this particular person there, Melissa said cheerfully to him, "Good evening, Eric." She turned toward her sister's boyfriend.
"Nice to see you again, Richard." She sat down in a chair just a few seats away from Eric. She turned toward him and said, "I haven't seen you in quite a while. Are you back for a while or just for a visit?"

"My job brought me here for at least six months," Eric answered. Eric had worked for her father a few years before and ate dinner every Friday at their house. He'd switched jobs just the year before and moved to New York. His previous interest had been in Michelle, of course. The man was tall and handsome, but she'd never taken interest in him. Even though he had impeccable manners, an engaging smile, and wasn't exactly penniless—in somewhat the way her parents weren't—she knew he wasn't for her.

"Well, it's nice to have you back," Melissa said with a smile, even though she couldn't have cared if Eric had returned. Years and years of classes taken on manners and etiquette and many lectures from her mother had taught her just how to behave around guests.

The dinners they invited guests to were only to maintain status quo. Their social position was very high, and the Manchelli family went to great lengths to see that it stayed that way. The twins had grown up accustomed to sitting quietly at the table and engaging in polite conversation when necessary. Michelle especially enjoyed being sophisticated, but if Melissa had a choice she would be snuggled on the couch in front of a fire, not wearing a dress but a baggy T-shirt and sweat pants, covered in a blanket.

"Thank you," Eric said, darting a quick glance at Michelle then returning his gaze to Melissa. "So I haven't heard what you've been doing lately."

"Well," she started, unsure of what to say. Nobody had taken any particular interest in what she was doing, it was always her sister. "I'm really not doing much these days."

"Ugh, please," Michelle said, tossing an exasperated look at Richard. "You must be doing something all holed up in your cabin for days on end."

Melissa licked her lips and was about to answer—though she didn't know what with—when her father walked briskly into the room.

"Well, I see we have some early guests," Brian Manchelli smiled briefly before sitting down at the head of the table. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."

Eric stood up quickly and shook her father's hand. "Don't apologize; I hope it wasn't a bother for me to come a bit untimely."

"No problem at all," Mr. Manchelli shrugged, nodding in his usual greeting to Richard. He turned to Michelle, but he spoke to both the girls and even the other two men, "Scott Kincaid is coming tonight. I guess he's leaving for Colorado in a few weeks, so we wanted to have him before he leaves."

"Is that all we're having?" Michelle asked with a frown. Normally they had more guests than what they did.

Mr. Manchelli shrugged. "Your mother felt it was better to have just the closer family friends over tonight." He beamed at Eric. "It's great to have you back here. I expect you'll be coming back in a few weeks to eat dinner with us again?"

"Of course, if you'd like to have me," Eric replied. He turned toward Melissa again. "You were saying…"

Again she was about to speak in reply when Mrs. Manchelli entered the room with a whoosh, Scott Kincaid trailing behind her. Melissa frowned, having not heard the doorbell, and then smiled at the irony of being interrupted twice when she had really actually hadn't wanted to finish her sentence.

Mr. Manchelli stood up to shake Scott's hand. "Nice to see you, Mr. Kincaid."

"Call me Scott," he said with a grin.

Melissa couldn't help but smile at his unkempt appearance. As usual, his dark hair was messy and out of control, although anybody who knew the man also understood that he thought his hairdo was quite adequate and could care less what others thought. His tie did not match his outfit, and she suspected he'd not put it on correctly. His grin was mischievous, like he was hiding something and was very excited about it. He did not look proper and classy, yet he'd grown up in a home every bit as sophisticated and well-to-do as her own. What his mother must think, she thought to herself, but then remembered, not every mother is like mine.

Scott nodded to everyone around him, and even though his smile was only a simple lift of the corners of his mouth, it shone in his eyes as his eyes lingered on every one of them. He sat casually in the chair next to Eric and at once engaged the man in conversation. Mrs. Manchelli floated toward the table and sat at the end across from her husband, and minutes later an elegant three-course dinner was served.


"Are you walking back to your cottage in this weather?" Eric asked of Melissa in the main hallway, his voice echoing off the walls and the two-story high ceiling.

She shrugged. "I was going to ask Michelle if I could ride with her in the golf cart. If not, I might get one of the workers' golf carts." The dark sky was pouring a mixture of rain and snow, and she knew she would never be able to walk.

"Richard and I are going to go out for a while," Michelle said, having heard her statement. "And I'll need the golf cart when I get back." In other words, her sister was saying that she could not use the vehicle.

Melissa sighed and moved down the hall toward the rear double doors. "I guess I'll use a gator."

"The workers' golf carts don't have roofs. You'll get wet," Eric protested, hurrying after her. "I'll take you around to where you park your car. You'll have a way shorter distance to walk that way. I'll even walk with you, if you'd like."

She was about to refuse his offer, but thought about driving a roofless golf cart in the cold with the sleet coming down on her head. She turned toward him and said politely, "That would be wonderful if you could drive me to my parking space."

"Let's go, then," Eric said, flipping his keys out of his pocket.

They ran into Scott Kincaid in the foyer as he was about to leave, and he turned to smile at her just before he went out the door. "Nice seeing you again, Melissa. Oh, and by the way, I left my Colorado address with your father, in hopes you and your family might want to come and visit one of these days, even though I know you're all very busy. Anyway, thanks for having me."

"Why this sudden move to the Rockies?" Melissa asked, mustering her boldness. Sure, she'd known the guy since she was little more than a girl, yet in the past few years she'd hardly even seen him. It was hard to start another conversation with him, and especially more awkward considering there were those mysterious, secretive years between them.

"Well, my uncle recently passed away, and he owned a ranch up in the mountains. The ranch is huge, and I used to go up there every summer to spend time with him. I used to tell him nearly every day how much I loved his ranch, so he put me in charge of it in his will. The place is great. It's sort of a hotel as well, and you meet all sorts of people out there," Scott explained, jangling the car keys in his hand.

"I see," Melissa nodded. She shrugged into her coat. "Well, good luck with your drive home on these roads. Eric was kind enough to give me a dry ride back to my lodge in this weather."

And with a wave, he was gone.

Scott had been one of the family's friends since she remembered. They had the same social standing and Michelle, Melissa, Scott, and the other well-off kids always sat together at the social gatherings. His mother had recently passed away, having had breast cancer for ten years, and his father was not taking it well. As a result, in the months past the family had turned away from all of the social parties and she hadn't seen him or his father in a long time.

Eric chivalrously opened the door to his Porsche for her and ushered her into it. Melissa smiled and ran her eyes over the interior of the car as he slid into the driver's seat. "You like my ride?"

She nodded with a grin as he revved up the motor and sped out of the circle driveway. She had to admit to herself that Eric wasn't any different than all of the other 'rich kids' in their social circle. He liked being rich, and he was proud of all he had. But she knew what secrets most families harbored behind their perfect façade, and she wasn't proud of her family. Her mother was not the kind person she seemed to be at social gatherings. What was Eric really like, underneath the fancy car and huge mansion, the clothing pressed to perfection?

"So you never told me what you've been doing lately," Eric continued.

Melissa sighed. What could it hurt to tell him? Her family wasn't around. "I draw." That was the safest to admit.

His interest visibly sparked. "What do you draw?"

"Whatever catches my attention," she said, answering shortly in hopes that he would forget it and move onto a different subject.

But he seemed to have different ideas in mind. "Like what?"

I can't tell him that I draw and imagine different worlds, he'll think I'm nuts, she thought. "Sometimes I conjure pictures in my imagination after reading a book or watching a movie, or seeing a place that's beautiful to me. Just anything, I suppose."

"How come I didn't know this about you?" Eric asked. "I never knew you were the artistic type." He paused. "I guess I didn't know what type you were. Why don't you show other people your drawings?"

"Because I've never told anyone before," she answered quietly.

Eric frowned. "Why wouldn't you tell anyone? I know you're good. You're good at everything you do."

Melissa shook her head, not wanting to continue the conversation. No, she wasn't good at a lot of things, and her parents made sure she knew it. Michelle was the one with all the talents.

The car pulled up into her driveway beside her car. She only had to follow the short path to her cottage, and she was thankful that she hadn't had to walk any more. "Thanks, Eric, for the ride. I appreciate it." She got out of the car on her own and shut the door before she could hear him reply. She hurried down the path, not knowing why she was suddenly afraid.

The drawing in her sketchbook was of mountains. For some reason, she'd been thinking about stretching landscapes and jagged peaks stretching up into the sky. She hadn't known what sparked her interest, or what had even inspired her to draw them.

But now stood before her a black-and-white drawing of tree-littered hills and a town nestled in a valley between two humongous swells of earth.

And that night she dreamed of pine trees, mountains, and a small mining town with dirt streets…