The morning sun poured through the two-story leaded windows of the Hawthorne Manor library, casting long golden rectangles across forty feet of polished French walnut floorboards. The blizzard of the previous week had completely surrendered to a crisp, crystal-clear winter thaw. Icicles along the limestone cornices were dripping rhythmically onto the snow-dusted stone terraces, and inside the library, the scent of aged leather, dried lavender, and crackling applewood filled the…
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