My Husband Told Me Never To Go To The House At Blue Heron Ridge Until Three Years Later

were simple and well chosen, good wood, clean lines, nothing that demanded attention. The kind of room that made you feel held rather than impressed.

But it was the walls that undid me.

They were covered in paintings. Canvas after canvas, hung in careful arrangement from baseboard to beam, and every single one of them was an orchid. Not photographs, continue reading …