made you decide to move to Hibbing, of all places?”
“Well, I was interested in antiques. I had thought about opening a shop in the city, but after doing a little research, I discovered that city people preferred to forage for antiques in the countryside. Sounds silly, but you know how some folks can be. Perhaps they think that if they don’t actually find it, it isn’t authentic.” He paused walking for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued on their path. “One day, I decided to drive west to see what the rest of the state looked like. It was lovely, and there were a lot of homesteads that had gone up for sheriff’s sales. I thought it might be a treasure trove for me to cull. I settled here because it’s halfway between Kansas City and St. Louis, so I could have clientele from both cities. Remember what I said about people foraging for their own? Well, I am here to tell you that’s nonsense.”
“What do you mean?” Frank asked.
“They love to go ‘antiquing,’ provided someone does the work for them. But getting back to how I ended up here. As I was saying, I took a drive and discovered a good supply to start with. The next thing was to find a place to put it, so I bought a local newspaper, and there was a house for rent on the main highway. It was just the right size for a store but not big enough for me to live there as well. And I didn’t want to be so close to work that it took over my entire life.”
“That was a smart move. I marvel at people who work from home and can separate themselves after putting in an eight-hour day.”
“Exactly. When I rented the shop, I asked the real-estate agent if there were any modest homes for sale, and she sent me here. And that’s the whole story, kit and caboodle. The only thing I’m dealing with now is all the items that I didn’t sell with the rest of my inventory. To be quite frank, Frank”—Andy chuckled—“I could be buried under all the things I have, and no one would find me for days.”
Frank had a gruesome thought. What if that actually happened? He knew that no one on the block had ever stepped foot in Andy’s house. Then he thought about Ellie Bowman. She never stepped out of her house. Quite a contrast. Five houses and five different stories. Frank felt that he and Jeanne were probably the most ordinary of the bunch, but he hadn’t yet met the new neighbors. Perhaps they would get the prize for normalcy. Or maybe for being the most unusual. He thought that Andy and Ellie would be hard to beat. Then he thought of Mitchel, but it occurred to him that Mitchel’s problem wasn’t all that unusual. Alcoholism strikes millions of families. As they got closer to the front door, Frank’s thoughts lightened up again.
The door was open, and Jeanne, Colleen, and Jackson were standing in the foyer, speaking to a petite brunette and a studious-looking gentleman. Two children were standing behind them.
“Here’s my husband now. Frank, meet our new neighbors. This is Brenda.” She indicated the small woman. Frank shook her hand. “Frank Chadwick.”
The man chimed in, “Charlie Gaynor. Nice to meet you.” The men shook hands.
Frank ushered Andy into the crowd. “This is Andy Robertson, your next-door neighbor.”
“How do you do.” Andy reached for a handshake.
Charlie pointed to his children. “Randy and Megan.”
Randy walked over to Frank and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.” Then he shook Andy’s. “And you, sir.”
Colleen was impressed with the kid’s manners. Megan squeezed her way between her mother and father. “And I’m Megan!”
Frank leaned over and extended his hand to her, and she eagerly shook it.
Andy slightly leaned forward. “I can’t bend down that far or I might fall over.” He said it with a smile, causing Megan to giggle.
She raised her hand up to greet him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Robertson.” Then she turned to Frank. “You, too, Mr. Chadwick.”
Colleen directed her attention to Megan. “I heard that you’re in second grade?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know which school you’ll be attending?” Colleen asked. There was a public grammar school and a private school that went from kindergarten to the twelfth grade.
“Daniel Boone Elementary School,” Megan proudly replied. “I’m in second grade.”
“Then you’ll be in my class,” Colleen announced.
Megan’s eyes grew wide. “You’re going to be my