As she reached the coastal road near St. Ives, the sky turned the color of a bruised plum. A storm was rolling in, exactly as the radio had warned. Most people her age would have pulled over to a cozy B&B. Dolly simply shifted into four-wheel drive. She found the narrow, unmarked dirt track she had been looking for—a path she hadn't driven in forty years.
Marla and Dan stood in the shadows, holding their breath. dolly dyson birthday trip fixed