Pride and Prejudice

I come full circle - from my new Pride and Prejudice fanfiction to the original masterpiece. 40 pages 40 posted.

As I wrote on the book's first page, 

Happy 200th anniversary, 

P&P. May my humble book honor this extraordinary date.

Happy 40th birthday to me. 

May the next 40 bring as much fun!

Pride and Prejudice

Jane Austen

Chapter 7

page 40

"‘Mamma,’ cried Lydia, ‘my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke’s library.’

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,
‘Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.’

‘It is from Miss Bingley,’ said Jane, and then read it aloud.

‘MY DEAR FRIEND,—
‘If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day’s tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a quarrel.

Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,

‘CAROLINE BINGLEY.’"

---

Just imagine what a match-making mama can do with such a note?

Marrrvelous!

So, since December I´ve posted 40 awesome books:

1- 45 days in Europe with Mr. Darcy

2- Jane Eyre

3-  Naked determination

4-  Orgulho e Preconceito

5-  Death comes to Pemberley

6- Inferno

7- Northanger Abbey

8-  A Abadia de Northanger

9- The Mists of Avalon - book 1

10-  The Jane Austen book club

11-  Friendship of a special kind

12-  Colours and years

13-  The ocean at the end of the lane

14- One day

15-  A clash of kings

16-  As esganadas

17-  Poirot salva o criminoso

18-  North and South

19-  The bloody chamber

20-  Twilight

21-  Austenland

22-  Bridget Jones's diary

23-  Breakfast at Tiffany's

24-  Image or Likeness

25-  Tarantula

26-  Dead to the world

27-  Em algum lugar do passado

28-  Quando Nietzsche chorou

29-  Emma

30-  Pollyanna

31-  Lady Susan

32-  A Ladeira da Saudade

33-  The beach

34-  The dead zone

35-  Mansfield Park

36-  Persuasion

37-  The girl with the dragon tattoo

38-  High Fidelity

39-  Contos de fim de

40-  Pride and Prejudice

---

In other words, hold my hand;
in other words,
Happy birthday to me!!!

Let's toast to a juicy 40!

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 was my way to celebrate my 40th birthday. It's not easy to accept that 'youth' no longer describes me...
By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

Persuasion

Hello,
these days I have been busy with work & life and have been reflecting on how much we sacrifice for the ones we love. We put up with people who usually wouldn't have a second oportunity to get on our nerves, endless hours of cartoons and torturing kids' parties, bad movies that you would never had chosen to watch on a saturday night, etc...

As if on cue, here I had this post almost ready, it's the 36th page 40, THE adult Austen.

Persuasion

Jane Austen

page 40

Chapter 8

"From this time Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot were repeatedly in the same circle. They were soon dining in company together at Mr Musgrove's, for the little boy's state could no longer supply his aunt with a pretence for absenting herself; and this was but the beginning of other dinings and other meetings.

Whether former feelings were to be renewed must be brought to the proof; former times must undoubtedly be brought to the recollection of each; they could not but be reverted to; the year of their engagement could not but be named by him, in the little narratives or descriptions which conversation called forth. His profession qualified him, his disposition lead him, to talk; and "That was in the year six;" "That happened before I went to sea in the year six," occurred in the course of the first evening they spent together: and though his voice did not falter, and though she had no reason to suppose his eye wandering towards her while he spoke, Anne felt the utter impossibility, from her knowledge of his mind, that he could be unvisited by remembrance any more than herself. There must be the same immediate association of thought, though she was very far from conceiving it to be of equal pain.

They had no conversation together, no intercourse but what the commonest civility required. Once so much to each other! Now nothing! There had been a time, when of all the large party now filling the drawing-room at Uppercross, they would have found it most difficult to cease to speak to one another. With the exception, perhaps, of Admiral and Mrs Croft, who seemed particularly attached and happy, (Anne could allow no other exceptions even among the married couples), there could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.

When he talked, she heard the same voice, and discerned the same mind. There was a very general ignorance of all naval matters throughout the party; and he was very much questioned, and especially by the two Miss Musgroves, who seemed hardly to have any eyes but for him, as to the manner of living on board, daily regulations, food, hours, &c., and their surprise at his accounts, at learning the degree of accommodation and arrangement which was practicable, drew from him some pleasant ridicule, which reminded Anne of the early days when she too had been ignorant, and she too had been accused of supposing sailors to be living on board without anything to eat, or any cook to dress it if there were, or any servant to wait, or any knife and fork to use.

From thus listening and thinking, she was roused by a whisper of Mrs Musgrove's who, overcome by fond regrets, could not help saying--

"Ah! Miss Anne, if it had pleased Heaven to spare my poor son, I dare say he would have been just such another by this time."

Anne suppressed a smile, and listened kindly, while Mrs Musgrove relieved her heart a little more; and for a few minutes, therefore, could not keep pace with the conversation of the others."

---

That's another good line masterly penned by the genius... 
half agony, half hope 
that by sacrificing we are doing something nice for the ones we love...

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

Mansfield Park

Hello, 
today it is rainy and cloudy in Rio - Yeah! At least one day bellow 38°C - and it is an Austen day!
WE'll be having a gettogether and I looove our meetings.

To celebrate,  a sad Austen...

Mansfield Park

Jane Austen

CHAPTER VI

page 40

""You could not be expected to have thought on the subject before; but when you _do_ think of it, you must see the importance of getting in the grass. The hire of a cart at any time might not be so easy as you suppose: our farmers are not in the habit of letting them out; but, in harvest, it must be quite out of their power to spare a horse."

"I shall understand all your ways in time; but, coming down with the true London maxim, that everything is to be got with money, I was a little embarrassed at first by the sturdy independence of your country customs. However, I am to have my harp fetched to-morrow. Henry, who is good-nature itself, has offered to fetch
it in his barouche. Will it not be honourably conveyed?"

Edmund spoke of the harp as his favourite instrument, and hoped to be soon allowed to hear her. Fanny had never heard the harp at all, and wished for it very much.

"I shall be most happy to play to you both," said Miss Crawford; "at least as long as you can like to listen: probably much longer, for I dearly love music myself, and where the natural taste is equal the player must always be best off, for she is gratified in more ways than one. Now, Mr. Bertram, if you write to your brother, I entreat you to tell him that my harp is come: he heard so much of my misery about it. And you may say, if you please, that I shall prepare my most plaintive airs against his return, in compassion to his feelings, as I know his horse will lose."

"If I write, I will say whatever you wish me; but I do not, at present, foresee any occasion for writing."

"No, I dare say, nor if he were to be gone a twelvemonth, would you ever write to him, nor he to you, if it could be helped. The occasion would never be foreseen. What strange creatures brothers are! You would not write to each other but upon the most urgent necessity in the world; and when obliged to take up the pen to say that such a horse is ill, or such a relation dead, it is done in the fewest possible words. You have but one style among you. I know it perfectly. Henry, who is in every other respect exactly what a brother should be, who loves me, consults me, confides in me, and will talk to me by the hour together, has never yet turned the page in a letter; and very often it is nothing more than--'Dear Mary, I am just arrived. Bath seems full, and everything as usual. Yours sincerely.' That is the true manly style; that is a complete
brother's letter."

"When they are at a distance from all their family," said Fanny, colouring for William's sake, "they can write long letters."

"Miss Price has a brother at sea," said Edmund, "whose excellence as a correspondent makes her think you too severe upon us.""

---

Today is Austen day!
happy, happy day indeed!

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

The Dead Zone

Hello,
after days suffering from a cold, today I'm a mess as my neck has given up on me. 

From my twilight zone of dizziness to a serious King zone: It was not my first, but it sure is a pretty good Stephen King.

The Dead Zone

Stephen King

Chapter FOUR

page 40

"Alma's face went tight and she turned to go so quickly that she almost got by the killer. 'That's not very funny...'

He grabbed her and threw her back. 'Where do you think you're going?'

Her eyes were suddenly watchful and frightened. 'Let me out of here. Or you'll be sorry. I don't have any time for sick jokes...

'It's no joke,' he said. 'It's no joke, you nasty-fucker.' He was light-headed with the joy of naming her, naming her for what she was. The world whirled.

Alma broke left, heading for the low railing that surrounded the bandstand, meaning to leap over it. The killer caught the back of her cheap cloth coat at the collar and yanked her back again. The cloth ripped with a low purring sound and she opened her mouth to scream.

He slammed his hand over her mouth, mashing her lips back against her teeth. He felt warm blood trickle over his palm. Her other hand was beating at him now, clawing for purchase, but there was no purchase. There was none because he... he was...

Slick!

He threw her to the board floor. His hand came off her mouth, which was now smeared with blood, and she opened her mouth to scream again, but he landed on top of her, panting, grinning, and the air was driven out of her lungs in a soundless whoosh. She could feel him now, rock hard, gigantic and throbbing, and she quit trying to scream and went on struggling. Her fingers caught and slipped, caught and slipped. He forced her legs rudely apart and lay between them. One of her hands glanced off the bridge of his nose, making his eyes water.

'You nasty-fucker,' he whispered, and his hands closed on her throat. He began to throttle her, yanking her head up from the bandstand's board flooring and then slamming it back down. Her eyes bulged. Her face went pink, then red, then a congested purple. Her struggles began to weaken.

'Nasty-fucker, nasty-fucker, nasty-fucker,' the killer panted hoarsely. He really was the killer now, Alma Frechette's days of rubbing her body all over people at Serenity Hill were done now. Her eyes bugged out like the eyes of some of those crazy dolls they sold along carnival midways. The killer panted hoarsely. Her hands lay limp on the boards now. His fingers had almost disappeared from sight.

He let go of her throat, ready to grab her again if she stirred. But she didn't. After a moment he ripped her coat open with shaking hands and shoved the skirt of her pink waitress uniform up.

The white sky looked down. The Castle Rock town common was deserted. In fact, no one found the strangled, violated corpse of Alma Frechette until the next day. The sheriff's theory was that a drifter had done it. There were statewide newspaper headlines, and in Castle Rock there was general agreement with the sheriff's idea.

Surely no hometown boy could have done such a dreadful thing."

---

Oh boy...

That's a page 40...

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 was my way to celebrate my 40th birthday. It's not easy to accept that 'youth' no longer describes me...
By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

The beach

Hello,
another week starting and the heat promises to be just as high as before.

Who wouldn't want to escape to a magnificent paradise? Especilly this one... Such and intriguing movie, I had to read the book...

The Beach

Alex Garland

page 40

In Country

"We set off immediately after breakfast: half a bar of chocolate each and cold noodles, soaked in most of the water from our canteens. There wasn't any point in hanging around. We needed to find a freshwater source, and according to Mister Duck's map, the beach was on the other side of the island.

At first we walked along the beach, hoping to circle the coast, but the sand soon turned to jagged rocks, which turned to impassable cliffs and gorges. Then we tried the other end, wasting precious time while the sun rose in the sky, and found the same barrier. We were left with no choice but to try inland. The pass between the peaks was the obvious goal so we slung our bin-liners over our shoulders and picked our way into the jungle.

The first two or three hundred metres from the shore were the hardest. The spaces between the palm trees were covered in a strange rambling bush with tiny leaves that sliced like razors, and the only way past them was to push through. But as we got further inland and the ground began to rise, the palms became less common than another kind of tree — trees like rusted, ivy-choked space rockets, with ten-foot roots that fanned from the trunk like stabilizer fins. With less sunlight coming through the canopy, the vegetation on the forest floor thinned out. Occasionally we were stopped by a dense spray of bamboo, but a short search would find an animal track or a path cleared by a fallen branch.

After Zeph's description of the jungle, with Jurassic plants and strangely coloured birds, I was vaguely disappointed by the reality. In many ways I felt like I was walking through an English forest, I'd just shrunk to a tenth of my normal size. But there were some things that felt suitably exotic. Several times we saw tiny brown monkeys scurrying up the trees, Tarzan-style lianas hung above us like stalactites — and there was the water: it dripped on our necks, flattened our hair, stuck our T-shirts to our chests. There was so much of it that our half-empty canteens stopped being a worry.

Standing under a branch and giving it a shake provided a couple of good gulps, as well as a quick shower. The irony of having kept my clothes dry over the swim, only to have them soaked when we turned inland, didn't escape me.

After two hours of walking we found ourselves at the bottom of a particularly steep stretch of slope. We virtually had to climb it, pulling ourselves up on the tough fern stems to keep us from slipping down on the mud and dead leaves. Étienne was the " rst to get to the top and he disappeared over the ridge, then reappeared a few seconds later, beckoning enthusiastically.

"Hurry up!" he called. "Really, it is amazing!"

"What is it?" I called back, but he'd disappeared again.

I redoubled my efforts, leaving Françoise behind.

The slope led to a football-pitch-sized shelf on the mountainside, so flat and neat that it seemed unnatural in the tangle of the surrounding jungle. Above us the slope rose again to what appeared to be a second shelf, and past that it continued straight up to the pass.

Étienne had gone further into the plateau and was standing in some bushy plants, gazing around with his hands on his hips.

"What do you think?" he said. I looked behind me. Far below I could see the beach we had come from, the island where our hidden rucksacks lay, and the many other islands beyond it.

"I didn't know the marine park was this big," I replied.

"Yes. Very big. But that is not what I mean."

I turned back to the plateau, putting a cigarette in my mouth. Then, as I patted down my pockets looking for my lighter, I noticed something strange. All the plants in the plateau looked vaguely familiar.

"Wow," I said, and the cigarette dropped from my lips, forgotten.

"Yes."

"… Dope?"

Étienne grinned. "Have you ever seen so much?"

"Never…" I pulled a few leaves from the nearest bush and rubbed them in my hands.""

---

oh-oh...

I wouldn't mess up with this if I were you guys...

tsk, tsk

the HOT guy is just to please my friends...
But, seriously: don't mees up with dope fields. Like, ever!

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

Lady Susan

A small Austen that's about to be adapted to a movie. Very confusing, actually. The movie will tell Lady Susan 's story BUT will have another Austen's story title: 'Love and Friendship '.

Anyway, here's what Wikipedia has to say: Austen's "most wicked tale",¹ Lady Susan is a short epistolary² novel by Jane Austen, possibly written in 1794 but not published until 1871. Lady Susan is a selfish, attractive woman, who tries to trap the best possible husband while maintaining a relationship with a married man. She subverts all the standards of the romantic novel; she has an active role, she's not only beautiful but intelligent and witty, and her suitors are significantly younger³ than she is.

I comment:
¹- Austen + wicked : Only this would make me run to read it!
²- Epistolary: Mmmm... that could be tricky. My next Darcy&Lizzy has some letters but I don't believe I could pull a 84 Charing Cross Road ...
³- A sassy woman who can play with silly men... Yummy.

I've played with all these contents on my first authoral novel and I loved it.

But now, let's read Austen wickedness...

Lady Susan

Jane Austen

page 40

Letter XV
MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY

           Mr. Vernon declares that he never saw deeper distress than hers, on the receipt of the letter; and is his judgment inferior to mine? She was very unwilling that Frederica should be allowed to come to Churchhill, and justly enough, as it seems a sort of reward to behaviour deserving very differently; but it was impossible to take her anywhere else, and she is not to remain here long. "It will be absolutely necessary," said she, "as you, my dear sister, must be sensible, to treat my daughter with some severity while she is here; a most painful necessity, but I will ENDEAVOUR to submit to it. I am afraid I have often been too indulgent, but my poor Frederica's temper could never bear opposition well: you must support and encourage me; you must urge the necessity of reproof if you see me too lenient." All this sounds very reasonable. Reginald is so incensed against the poor silly girl. Surely it is not to Lady Susan's credit that he should be so bitter against her daughter; his idea of her must be drawn from the mother's description. Well, whatever may be his fate, we have the comfort of knowing that we have done our utmost to save him. We must commit the event to a higher power.

Yours ever, &c.,
Catherine Verno

---

Portrait of the Hon. Emily Mary Lamb

1803, Sir Thomas Lawrence

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

Sense and Sensibility

Just because it's Tuesday, it doesn't mean we can't have another Austen masterpiece...

I have been having a time of great disturbance in the force here. Lots of baby girls have their birthdays in February (Valentine's babies?...) and my baby boy wants to attend all the parties. I can't even count how many Polly Pockets, Barbies, Little poneys I've bought and wrapped these last days.

To celebrate, how about Austen girls?

Sense and Sensibility

Jane Austen

chapter X

page 40

"It was only necessary to mention any favourite amusement to engage her to talk. She could not be silent when such points were introduced, and she had neither shyness nor reserve in their discussion. They speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual, and that it arose from a general conformity of judgment in all that related to either. Encouraged by this to a further examination of his opinions, she proceeded to question him on the subject of books; her favourite authors were brought forward and dwelt upon with so rapturous a delight, that any young man of five and twenty must have been insensible indeed, not to become an immediate convert to the excellence of such works, however disregarded before. Their taste was strikingly alike. The same books, the same passages were idolized by each; or if any difference appeared, any objection arose, it lasted no longer than till the force of her arguments and the brightness of her eyes could be displayed. He acquiesced in all her decisions, caught all her enthusiasm; and long before his visit concluded, they conversed with the familiarity of a long-established acquaintance.

"Well, Marianne," said Elinor, as soon as he had left them, "for one morning I think you have done pretty well. You have already ascertained Mr. Willoughby's opinion in almost every matter of importance. You know what he thinks of Cowper and Scott; you are certain of his estimating their beauties as he ought, and you have received every assurance of his admiring Pope no more than is proper. But how is your acquaintance to be long supported, under such extraordinary despatch of every subject for discourse? You will soon have exhausted each favourite topic. Another meeting will suffice to explain his sentiments on picturesque beauty, and second marriages, and then you can have nothing farther to ask."

"Elinor," cried Marianne, "is this fair? is this just? are my ideas so scanty? But I see what you mean. I have been too much at my ease, too happy, too frank. I have erred against every common-place notion of decorum; I have been open and sincere where I ought to have been reserved, spiritless, dull, and deceitful:—had I talked only of the weather and the roads, and had I spoken only once in ten minutes, this reproach would have been spared."

"My love," said her mother, "you must not be offended with Elinor—she was only in jest. I should scold her myself, if she were capable of wishing to check the delight of your conversation with our new friend." Marianne was softened in a moment."

---

Ah well... Truth must be told.

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

Emma

Hello,

How about starting this week with a healthy dose of Austen?

The sweet match maker, the arrogant girl, the holder of his heart.

Ah... let's have it with...

Emma

Jane Austen

page 40

CHAPTER VII

     

      "The very day of Mr. Elton’s going to London produced a fresh occasion for Emma’s services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield, as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half a minute brought it all out. She had heard, as soon as she got back to Mrs. Goddard’s, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and finding she was not at home, nor particularly expected, had left a little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away; and on opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs which she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this letter was from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal of marriage. “Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did not know what to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good letter, at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her very much — but she did not know — and so, she was come as fast as she could to ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do. — ” Emma was half-ashamed of her friend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful.

      “Upon my word,” she cried, “the young man is determined not to lose any thing for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can.”

      “Will you read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do. I’d rather you would.”

      Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. The style of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not merely no grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have disgraced a gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of the writer. It was short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment, liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well, well,” and was at last forced to add, “Is it a good letter? or is it too short?”

      “Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Emma rather slowly — ”so good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom I saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well, if left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman; no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural talent for — thinks strongly and clearly — and when he takes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men. Yes, I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments to a certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet (returning it,) than I had expected.”

      “Well,” said the still waiting Harriet; — ”well — and — and what shall I do?”

      “What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this letter?”

      “Yes.”

      “But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course — and speedily.”

      “Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.”"

---

Oh yes, Miss Woodhouse, do advise us!

Face to face, of course.

Have you checked out 'Emma Approved' by the awesome gang from 'The Lizzie Bennet diaries '?

Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!

All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►

All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

Dead to the world

hello,

this 40 pages 40 ride has been really fun for me. Selecting which books to post, having to restrict myself to only one page (frequently I end up reading the whole chapter) and finding images... I almost forgot that I am in fact 40 now.

Anyway, following the last posts - seduction, power, blasé people, here goes another vamp. One can never have enough vamps, right?

My fave Sookie:

Dead to the World

A Sookie Stackhouse novel

Southern Vampire mysteries, book 4

Charlaine Harris

page 40

"The house was still locked. I picked out the right key from the ones on my ring, and we went inside. I didn't have the feeling of homecoming when I entered, the feeling I used to have as a kid. I'd lived in Gran's house so much longer than this little place. The minute Jason had turned twenty, he'd moved over here full-time, and though I'd dropped in, I'd probably spent less than twenty-four hours total in this house in the last eight years.

Glancing around me, I realized that my brother really hadn't hanged the house much in all that time. It was a small ranch-style house with small rooms, but of course it was a lot younger than Gran's
house—my house—and a lot more heating- and cooling-efficient.
My father had done most of the work on it, and he was a good builder.

The small living room was still filled with the maple furniture my mother had picked out at the discount furniture store, and its upholstery (cream with green and blue flowers that had never been seen in nature) was still bright, more's the pity. It had taken me a few years to realize that my mother, while a clever woman in some respects, had had no taste whatsoever. Jason had never come to that realization. He'd replaced the curtains when they frayed and faded, and he'd gotten a new rug to cover the most worn spots on the ancient blue carpet. The appliances were all new, and he'd worked hard on updating the bathroom. But my parents, if they could have entered their home, would have felt quite comfortable.

It was a shock to realize they'd been dead for nearly twenty years.
While I stood close to the doorway, praying I wouldn't see bloodstains, Alcee Beck prowled through the house, which certainly seemed orderly. After a second's indecision, I decided to follow him. There wasn't much to see; like I say, it's a small house. Three bedrooms (two of them quite cramped), the living room, a kitchen, one bathroom, a fair-sized family room, and a small dining room: a house that could be duplicated any number of times in any town in America.

The house was quite tidy. Jason had never lived like a pig, though sometimes he acted like one. Even the king-size bed that almost filled the biggest bedroom was more-or-less pulled straight, though I could see the sheets were black and shiny. They were supposed to look like silk, but I was sure they were some artificial blend. Too slithery for me; I liked percale.

"No evidence of any struggle," the detective pointed out. 

"While I'm here, I'm just going to get something," I told him, going over to the gun cabinet that had been my dad's. It was locked, so I checked my key ring again. Yes, I had a key for that, too, and I
remembered some long story Jason had told me about why I needed one—in case he was out hunting and he needed another rifle, or something. As if I'd drop everything and run to fetch another rifle for him!

Well, I might, if I wasn't due at work, or something.

All Jason's rifles, and my father's, were in the gun cabinet—all the requisite ammunition, too.

"All present?" The detective was shifting around impatiently in the doorway to the dining room.

"Yes. I'm just going to take one of them home with me."

"You expecting trouble at your place?" Beck looked interested for the first time.

"If Jason is gone, who knows what it means?" I said, hoping that was ambiguous enough. Beck had avery low opinion of my intelligence, anyway, despite the fact that he feared me. Jason had said he would bring me the shotgun, and I knew I would feel the better for having it. So I got out the Benelli and found its shells. Jason had very carefully taught me how to load and fire the shotgun, which was his pride and joy. There were two different boxes of shells."

---

I almost cheated and found a certain shower scene to post a bit of a sweet Eric...

Oh my... After this I may need some time to... freshen up.

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