Fiction | July 22, 2013
Mile Point Road
Nathan Oates
The lake house, when they finally arrived after the drive from New York that took almost twice as long as the computer had promised, looked nothing like what Matt had been imagining all summer. Instead of a little wooden cottage with creaking floors and a porch on the water, they pulled up in front of a three-story stone mansion. A dozen windows quivered with the shadows of the huge trees that rose above the gabled roof. Beyond the house was an enormous yard, and Matt could see, if he leaned out the window, the view across the water to the mountains, patterning blue into the distance.
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