It was Marion's second date with Michael M. Smith, and he asked her whether she wanted to see his cemetery. She found herself at the Lent-Riker-Smith Homestead, the city's oldest house that's still used as a private home.
It's a perfect day. Blue skies dotted with cotton clouds and gentle breezes carry the unmistakable scent of the ocean. If I closed my eyes, I'd think I was in Martha's Vineyard. Instead, I see sunlight glinting off the barbed wire everywhere.