Needful Things

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Sure you have. Sure. I never forget a face.

Come on over here, let me shake your hand! Tell you something: I recognized you by the way you walk even before I saw your face good.

You couldn’t have picked a better day to come back to Castle Rock.

Ain’t she a corker? Hunting season will be starting up soon, fools out in the woods bangin away at anything that moves and don’t wear blaze orange, and then comes the snow and sleet, but all that’s for later.

Right now it’s October, and in The Rock we let October stay just as long as she wants to.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best time of year. Spring’s nice here, but I’ll take October over May every time. Western Maine’s a part of the state that’s mostly forgotten once the summer has run away and all those people with their cottages on the lake and up on the View have gone back to New York and Massachusetts.

People here watch them come and go every year-hello, hello, hello; goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. It’s good when they come, because they bring their city dollars, but it’s good when they go, because they bring their city aggravations, too.

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