He sat at the bow of the little dinghy, happy to feel the fresh lake breeze blowing past. It was warm for late autumn—sunlight beat down from partly cloudy skies, shimmering off the lake and reflecting into Ian’s face. Off to their right, to starboard, the shoreline and steep hills beyond shone like melted gold as a stand of aspen and birch swayed in the breeze. Yellow leaves fluttered off the branches. They tossed and turned in midair, like fairies dancing in ether, until settling to earth for the winter.Ian glanced back and smiled at Sally, who was perched at the stern, expertly guiding the sailboat across the water. She wrinkled her brow, deep in concentration, trying to keep the dinghy parallel to shore, which was difficult in the constantly shifting winds. The sun hid briefly behind a cloud, and without its warming rays the two teenagers began shivering as their wet clothes clung to their skin.Ian took the spyglass from his pocket and expanded it. He examined the exterior, then the front lens element, trying to see if his fall from the cliffs had damaged it.
