A week. six days A week since she had married Russell, and since they had brought Molly, fully recovered from the bee sting, back from San Luis Obispo. But only this morning-this perfect June morning-had she actually awakened and known instantly where she was, and felt as if she truly belonged. She stretched, then relaxed back into the cosiness of the bed for a few moments, luxuriating in the sounds and smells drifting in from the open window, gazing contentedly at the patch of turquoise-blue sky, untarnished by even a hint of the smog she had finally become inured to in Los Angeles. She rolled over to look at the clock. Already six. Russell would have been up for at least an hour, meeting with Kevin and Otto in the tack room to plan the day, then setting about the earliest chores. Molly and Julie would be up, too, their horses already turned out to pasture, the stalls cleaned, and the rest of the animals fed and watered.
