For me, this is how it started. With a phone call.
“My name is Ashley Cook and I’m calling about Paul’s crusher.” The woman spoke rapidly, as if seizing an opportunity that might pass. “I got your name from a lady up on Yellow Mountain.”
“Who? Which lady?”
“Beth, I believe it was.”
Beth Langstaff? My mind tried to find a reference. Witt Langstaff and his wife had bought the pastureland down the hill from me, below my pond. Beth. Must be Witt’s wife, I thought.
“Is everybody okay? Is Witt okay?”