| We are fairly ordinary people, Walter and I. Not the norm, maybe; I" think we add up to something quite graceful and special, something that both enriches and adorns the small world we live in. Our friends say so. But not, surely, the stuff of People magazine. And yet there we are, this week, Walter and I. Sit- ting on the white wrought-iron patio chairs, looking just like what we are--mildly affluent people in their middle thirties, well and casually dressed, tanned from a summer of not-so-good tennis at the club, pleasant people who like their lives and appear to love each other. Two people leaning a bit forward, looking across a lawn that doesn t appear in the photograph to a house, a house built on a pretty, hilly, wooded lot next door, which doesn t appear in the photograph either. But the house is the reason we are there. The house next door is haunted, and I am the one respon-" sible for all the publicit |
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