You'll Be Sorry
Cut along the dashed lines and pass the cards around the table.
Picture yourself arriving at a snowy New Hampshire lodge. What would you need (a certain blanket, drink, or book) to feel at home there on your first night?
Where did you do most of your reading for this book, and did the story ever make you pull the covers up a little tighter or double-check the locks?
This couple goes somewhere new to recover from a tragedy. Have you ever moved or run off somewhere to heal, and did it feel like the place helped or just followed you there?
The lodge seems to hold on to memories of what happened there. Is there a place in your life, like a childhood home, a cabin, or a relative's kitchen, that still feels full of the people and moments that passed through it?
Grief can pull two people together or quietly push them apart. Which moments between the couple felt tender or familiar to you, and did any of them remind you of how you or someone you love handles loss?
When the tension rose, what small comforts in the story (a fire, a meal, a kind word, the landscape) did you find yourself holding on to as a reader?
By the end, how did your feelings about the lodge itself change? Did it end up feeling more like a refuge or a wound, and what did that stir up in you about the places we choose to heal?
Without giving anything away for anyone still reading, which moment in the book stayed with you emotionally after you closed it, and why do you think it hit so close to home?