(This picture prompted an additional scene near the beginning of the young adult book I'm working on, The Harrodsport Chronicles.)
The Harrodsport Chronicles
Charlie stood on the porch and looked at the old oak door. The door knob was small and ornate like something from the Victorian era. Was that a wolf delicately engraved in the knob? No, it's just something that looks like a wolf - the rest of the ironwork is too fancy for it to be something as crude as a wolf.
Charlie glanced behind her as the social worker and the chauffeur were removing the suitcases from the trunk of the limousine. In the background she could still see the trees which lined the long curvy driveway from the main road. She knew the ocean was close because she could hear the waves crashing, but the treeline obscured the view.
Turning back to the door, she raised her tiny hand to knock on the heavy door, but at the same moment, the golden oak door swung open to reveal an older, petite woman with striking black hair.
"Welcome to Rosewood Manor, Charlene! I'm your Aunt Elizabeth. We've been waiting a long time to meet you."