"I worry about you, Dawn. I know how he is. I've experienced it first hand. Twice! And I know how you are. You get withdrawn. You hide. You disappear. Nobody knows where you are. I know you've always been this way. I mean, I know at least, since your parents. I know... well, you know, I know you've been Dawn. But I worry about you this time of year. I know you've been in peril before, but so have I. And your cousin, Becky is a fighter! I'll give that Gerald Sinclair a piece of my mind---" Becky's voice worked itself into a feisty fit.
"---Gerald Sinclair..." Dawn's voice quietly interrupted her machine gun mouthed cousin, parroting the name in a hushed tone, as though expelling a ghost on her breath. She hadn't thought of him since the incident at the Cabin last year.
"---Dawn? Dawn? Are you even listening to me? I asked you, ``What is the place like?" Becky's voice broke through the barricade of Dawn's thoughts.
"Hmmm? Oh!" Dawn was shaken by the distant voice of her cousin reaching her. "It's uh... well... it's something," replied Dawn as she slid off the bed. She padded across the hardwood floors of the loft, stepping around discarded pairs of pantyhose.
She stared at a bottle of wine paired with a glass that was "in progress" next to an old Commodore 64 computer and monitor.
"Well... let's just say, I couldn't even get work done if I wanted to," replied Dawn, dryly as she eyed the ancient computer tech.
"I should hope not! You are supposed to be getting your rest. But please tell me there is wine there. What's the point of being rich if---" Becky prattled.
"---Hand on a second... I think I heard a noise," Dawn interrupted.
"Wait. What!? Dawn!" Becky's voice yelled into the phone... as it was put down on the table next to the half empty bottle of wine.