Two straight days of vigorous outdoor activity coupled with a later-than-usual bedtime caused Dean to sleep through the six o'clock broadcast of Public Radio news, waking only when an extended arm felt an empty bed beside him. Even Gladys Turnbull's alarm must have been muffled enough not to disturb his slumber. The sofa was empty, too, the blanket and sheets piled neatly. Cynthia was already at the kitchen table, amid sweet smelling scents of the morning fare of fresh cranberry scones, the ubiquitous notebook and a scattering of paper spread before her.
"Where's Donnie?" Dean asked as he bent down and kissed his wife.
"Off with his father to borrow skis from a friend of Mr. Ryland. He was as excited as Christmas morning."
"And Martha?"
"Skipped home as soon as she finished breakfast."
"How's it going?" he asked, motioning to the notebook.
"Slow. But I think I'm on the right track. I skipped ahead to a page where she used more punctuation and it helped. I haven't found any new replacement letters, but I've eliminated a lot of possibilities. If I can settle on a few more characters, it should begin to fall into place." She looked up. "But even when I figure out all the substitutions, deciphering the entire notebook will be a long project. And I'm still bothered that there are twenty-seven characters used and not just twenty-six."
"Maybe one of the characters is designated as a space between words or a period," Dean offered. Cynthia looked at him and began to nod her head, considering the possibility. She methodically searched the text.
"Think how long it must have taken her to write it," Dean continued as he munched on a scone and glanced over her shoulder.
"I don't imagine it was so very difficult. Not after she'd been working at it awhile," Cynthia answered, not taking her eyes from the page as she continued to work. "As much and as often as Annie wrote, the letters and numbers must have almost become a second language to her. She wouldn't see a 'two,' she'd see an 'E.' It's difficult for us because we're just starting out."
"Why do you suppose she did it? Why would a woman hide her writings from her husband?"
"Maybe it was written before she married."
"Maybe she was having an affair with the butcher."
Cynthia just scowled. "Before we can read what she wrote, we can only guess the reason for it. But we'll know before long. I'm not going to give up until I break it!"
Dean laughed. "You sound like the Brits with the enigma code. I'm beginning to think you like a mystery as much as Fred!"