MacKenzie Ocean’s End Hotel, Cape Chignecto, Nova Scotia 1890 Alice gazed out the window, watching the distant fog slowly advancing over the water toward the hotel. Smudges and water stains distorted the glorious view of the Atlantic Ocean and added to her foreboding. Mason, her husband’s son, was riding, which he did every day. He'd come into view soon; she could count on him like clockwork. Him and his horse, Chamois. She thought Chamois a silly name for a horse. The previous year when he’d purchased the mare, he had said it was the perfect name for her. "Just feel her. She's so soft, like a baby's breath, gentle, beautiful....” She saw something akin to lust in his eyes, and jealousy spread through her. "It'll turn on you someday," Alice said. She—Alice—should have been enough for him. His eyes should have been on her, not on some dratted animal.She sighed, her heavy breath making a perfect circle on the glass. Eventually, Alice gave up waiting, donned her husband’s hat and coat, and ventured to the balcony where she sat on a weathered chair.
