The Burning Point by Mary Jo Putney

perfect setting for a dead marriage.
    Years in California had made her wary of icy roads, but she had confidence in Donovan and his Jeep Cherokee. His competence at just about everything had been part of his allure. At eighteen, she'd believed that this was a man she could trust for anything. Clear proof that instinct wasn't worth a damn.
    Oscar raised his head and gave a bark of recognition as they turned into Brandy Lane, the twisty dead-end road that led to the house. The dog had often stayed with Donovan when Julia and Sam traveled, and had insisted on coming today.
    After bracing herself for the first sight of her old home, Kate was relieved to see that the modest structure of her memories had changed almost beyond recognition. The site sloped away from the road and was heavily treed, which made it difficult to evaluate the extent of the alterations. At the very least a new wing had been added, with what looked like a three-car garage tucked underneath and entered from the side.
    Donovan pulled up in front of the house, then cut the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt. "I thought you might like to use the formal entrance."
    "Lay on, McDuff, and damn'd be him who first cries, Hold, enough! "
    "Is this really Shakespearean tragedy?"
    "Actually, it's more like farce," she admitted.
    He climbed out and circled the vehicle to open her door. Oscar leaped from her lap to the ground and dashed to the house, a fast fur ball in flight from the cold. He whizzed past the azaleas she'd planted by the entrance. She'd picked them specially because the blooms were a rare shade of magenta. They'd grown a lot in ten years.
    Glad that Donovan knew better than to offer his hand to help her down, Kate stepped from the vehicle, gasping as a blast of icy wind knifed through her. "Good grief, has Baltimore moved closer to the North Pole since I left?"
    "This January has been one of the coldest on record." He shut the passenger door and escorted her to the house. She felt brittle as glass as he unlocked the front door.
    Inside, she felt relief again. The house had changed out of recognition. To her left, she saw that the small kitchen and dining room had been combined into a large, inviting country kitchen. It was an appealing space filled with sunshine and handsome oak cabinets, but it wasn't her kitchen.
    On the far side, a broad arch led into a new formal dining room. It appeared pristine and seldom used. Not surprising; if she lived here alone, she'd always eat in that friendly kitchen. She unbuttoned her raincoat and handed it to Donovan.
    He hung it with his parka in a closet that hadn't existed nine years before. "Coffee? Cappuccino?"
    She walked into the kitchen. "Cappuccino in Baltimore, the city where trends come to die?"
    "Clear proof that cappuccino has become mainstream. Would you like some?"
    "Regular coffee would be nice."
    While she admired the handmade ceramic tiles on the backsplash, Donovan pulled a bag of hazelnut coffee beans from the refrigerator. He'd always been a good cook. Preparing meals together had been such fun, negotiating for the cutting board, dodging each other, not always successfully....
    She bit her lip, blocking the image that had been stirred by her father's letter. Sharing a kitchen amiably did not a marriage make.
    As he measured beans into a grinder, he said, "Why not explore on your own? There's nothing off-limits."
    Relieved to tour the house alone, she opened the door leading to what had been a dismal basement, despite her best efforts with paint and lighting. The area had been completely transformed, more than doubling in size when the wing was added.
    The south wall was now mostly windows that looked into the woods, and the space had been transformed into a spacious family room, a full bath, a large, well-organized workshop, and a sizable room containing exercise equipment. The home gym would be convenient if she came here. A big "if."
    She returned upstairs and checked out the small laundry room