Category: Tracy Anne Warren

Tracy Anne Warren

And then there was the expansive garden that ran the length of the rear of the house- lush with color and fragrances that seemed to burst from every branch and bloom. Whoever had designed it possessed a keen eye for beauty, each plant chosen with obvious care and an affinity for nature.She’d even acquired a new cat from its depths, a stray orange tom she found wandering among the hydrangea bushes one morning. An offered dish of milk and he’d been her bosom beau ever since. She’d decided to call him Ranunculus because Buttercup was far too feminine a name for such a large and impressive male. She gazed at him now where he slept in the sunshine, basking like a small potentate in the heat of the day.

Tracy Anne Warren

Here, this is for you,” the girl said, holding out one of the pages on which she’d been drawing.”Oh, I… well, thank you.” Meg reached out and took the sketch between her fingers.Gazing down, her eyes widened. Instead of the typical childish scribble she’d expected, she discovered two well-rendered figures. The style was a bit loose, and still immature with a tendency to distort the proportions. Even so, it was refined enough enough to have captured remarkably accurate likenesses of her and Cade seated side by side on the sofa. Esme might be only be nine years of age, but already she was an exceptional artist, better than many adults would ever hope to be.”This is… extraordinary,” Meg said.”It’s you and Cade,” the girl offered, clutching a small fist against her yellow wool skirt. “Do you like it?””I most certainly do. How could I not? You’ve drawn Cade and me so perfectly. It’s beautiful.”The girl’s oval features came alive with a pleased smile. “Good night, Miss Amberley. I’m glad you’re going to be my sister.”At a sudden loss for what she knew would never be, Meg settled on the only honest reply she could offer.”Sweet dreams, Esme.