Adam and Evelyn (Excerpt)
I switched off the phone to avoid the wife’s, “HowyouhavethenervetoabandonyourfamilyatChristmastime
and my brat-pack teenage duo’s non-stop harping for expensive gadgets or the money to buy them and probably enough spliff to kill a small herd of highland cattle.
Next morning I hit a snow-covered road armed with GPS, map and compass. Snow fell consistently as I drove, spying, as I went, first down one lane and then another. By late afternoon, lost, dusk descending, I had to find shelter, anywhere.
‘Anywhere’ was a little granite house surrounded by tall pines, complete with what would be in spring and summer a cottage garden right and left of a path that led right up to a cherry-red door adorned with a large Christmas wreath. I had driven into a Christmas card.
As I approached, the door swung open. A redhead, beautiful even with the deep scar raking one cheek, stood on the threshold.
What do you think? Can you improve on my edit? Have I missed a glaring grammatical fault? I’d like to know.