1. The scheme.
The sudden gust of frigid wind practically tore the storm door out of Ed's hand as he went out into the wicked early March evening. An unexpected storm was moving in and a couple of inches of snow had already fallen as Ed helped his wife into their car which had been idling in the driveway. Ed ran around and slid behind the wheel, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together in an effort to restore some circulation.
All characters are at least 18 years old..
I saw him while I was pumping my gas, and he immediately got my attention. For one thing, we don't get all that many walking in my neck of the woods, because there's a whole lot of nothing around for miles and miles. Secondly, he was walking in one of our patented torrential rainstorms, and with the wind blowing and the lightning crackling, this was no night for a hike.
I had made the trip from the little cottage across the street and about 50 feet down countless times but never faster than that afternoon in June of 1976. After I sprinted blindly from our neighbor's back yard, a yard I had mowed for the last four years - not even watching for cars on the rarely traveled gravel road - I ran into our house and closed the door. Closed it and locked it and then looked through the blinds for what was about to happen.
The summer of 1970 was the time, and the place was Holland Patent in rural central New York State.
Arthur Connors was a recently retired man of 65 with a lot of time on his hands, and after his wife of 36 years had passed away a couple of years ago, that time seemed to pass more slowly.
Deciding to take up gardening, Art cleared out the area near the fence out back that divided his property from the Miller's spread next door, and began planting tomatoes.