"Phyllis A. Whitney - The Glass Flame" - читать интересную книгу автора (Whitney Phyllis A)

The Grass Flame
Phyllis A. Whitney
"If anything happens to me down here, don't let it pass as an accident. You owe me that, Karen . .." David Hallam had written those words in his last letter to his wife from a small village in the Tennessee Smoky Mountains. Ten days later he was dead. Now Karen Hallam had to find out why.
Her search would take her deep into the misty, haunted mountains where her husband was born, and where he spent the last few weeks of his life. It would lead her into a tangled web of disputed fortune, family jealousy, conspiracy, adultery and murder. And it would bring her face to face again with Trevor Andrews, David's half brother-the first man she had ever loved.
But Trevor was married now, distant, unreachable-and before long Karen would learn that Trevor Andrews had his own good reasons for
(continued on back flap)
Book Club Edition
I
The Glass Flame
Books by Phyllis A. Whitney
THE GLASS FLAME
THE STONE BULL
THE GOLDEN UNICORN
SPINDRIFT
THE TURQUOISE MASK
SNOWFIRE
LISTEN FOR THE WHISPERER
LOST ISLAND
THE WINTER PEOPLE
HUNTER'S GREEN
SILVERHILL
COLUMBELLA
SEA JADE
BLACK AMBER
SEVEN TEARS FOR APOLLO
WINDOW ON THE SQUARE
BLUE FIRE
THUNDER HEIGHTS
THE MOONFLOWER
SKYE CAMERON
THE TREMBLING HILLS
THE QUICKSILVER POOL
THE RED CARNELIAN
The Glass Flame
Phyllis A. Whitney
DOUBLEDAY & COMPANY, INC., GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK
JUN 2 ? 1986
Excerpt from "Kudzu", Copyright й 1963 by James Dickey. Reprinted from Poems 1957-1967, by permission of Wesleyan University Press. "Kudzu" first appeared in The New Jorker.
Copyright й 1978 by Phyllis A. Whitney
All Rights Reserved Printed in the United States of America
FOR MY VERY DEAR FRIEND
LEE WYNDHAM
With my affectionate thanks to Bernice A. Stevens and Alice E. Zimmerman, craftsmen, of Skyhigh, near Gatlmburg, Tennessee. Not only for introducing me to the beautiful Great Smoky Mountains, but also for driving me so untiringly around that Tennessee and North Carolina area.
My thanks as well to Marjorie Mortimer, who generously took me back of the scenes in an architect's office.
To my readers: Don't expect to find Trevor's laie or the hotel Greencastle if you visit Gatlinburg. Nor do any of these characters live outside of my imagination. The kudzu vine, however, is very real, and the open-air theater exists, though in a different location. All else is as true to this beautiful area as I could make it.
The Glass Flame
I
I was only a few miles from Gatlinburg when the sign pointing right caught my eye: Belle Isle. I hadn't intended to stop until I reached Trevor Andrews' house, but the name compelled me. This was the place to which my husband, David Hallam, had come. This was where he had died. His burying still lay ahead of me, with all the problems and questions it would involve.
The car I'd rented at the Knoxville airport carried me a little past the sign before I made up my mind and turned around, found my way back to the side road. Gravel crunched under my wheels and in the growing September dusk tree shadows fell across the way, so that I drove into a tunnel of green gloom. Three miles, the sign had said, and I drove slowly, reluctantly, unable to help myself.
I shouldn't be doing this-I knew I shouldn't! Especially not while I was in this numb and shattered state.