Note From The Author

As sunlight glimmered throughout the old house, making even some of its now-dingy features seem still impressive, I noticed that the molding around the doors imitated columns. The knotty wood floor took on a warm, reddish glow, and the swirls etched into the wood along the staircase seemed most impressive in a shadowy picture where the sun's glow failed to wash out the many details of this soon-to-be-gone home.

For days afterwards, this haunted me -like a scar that wouldn't heal. I just could not put that last image of this old house out of my memory. And I felt guilty, primarily for not knowing what I could do about it. I could think of no way to save this piece of history. Fate had again been cruel.

As a child, I remember seeing many homes like this one-pieces of history that would eventually be lost.

The place where my parents held their wedding reception has long since been demolished. And the last stop on the long-remembered trolley line would soon disappear too, as would the town hall in which I attended meetings for years.

Naturally, every reader will not be able to relate to a single, 20-something young woman, such as my main character, Jenna. But I trust that everyone will be able to empathize with some facets of Jenna's life and dreams. And most of all, I hope readers will be inspired the next time they see some historic site, at least to appreciate it more.