She wasn’t going to look. Her eyes briefly opened as she glanced at the folded parchment lying on the pillow next to her. The heavy embossed seal. No, she wouldn’t read it. She tossed on her other side, away from the unwelcome letter. She’d been restive for two whole weeks, sleeping little, eating little. It was really quite frustrating for she’d expected to feel the greatest relief and peace once she’d made the decision to put David’s generous offer from her mind. Worse, for the first time in years, she noticed the oldness of her garret. The moldering odor that no amount of vinegar scrubs or lavender sachets could erase. Yes, of course she’d known her living space was shabby. But she’d become accustomed to it. Now it bothered her. Another disruption to her peace. She supposed that once she found another publisher she would be able to afford new furniture and fresh whitewash. But she’d have to sell a lot of copies for that. Thus far, she had submitted a sample of her work to several publishers.
