I look like Rudolph. I woke up the next morning with a headache and a shiny nose, and promptly blamed Bill for both. I took a long, hot shower, then pulled on some jeans and a Fair Isle sweater I’d bought in London. When I slid open the door to the deck, a blast of wind nearly knocked me back inside. One glance at the overcast sky told me that this would not be my day for hill climbing, and as my breath condensed in the cold air, I wondered how often it snowed in the south of England in late April. The back garden almost made up for the gloomy sky. It was spilling over with bright blossoms and the cold didn’t seem to affect them at all—a pair of redbuds were just coming into leaf in the meadow beyond the stone wall. I recalled what Emma had said about the lilacs, but dismissed it when the first windblown splashes of rain sent me back inside to unpack. I put my books on the shelves, set Reginald’s shoebox in the bottom of the wardrobe, and stowed the rest of my gear in the bureau.
What do You think about Aunt Dimity's Death (1993)?
