the death of her husband doesn’t strike me as likely. Or talking about anything else, for that matter. We’ve met twice—briefly, I might add—both times not under the best of circumstances. Assuming, George, that I’ll even be in town for much longer.”
“Oh, I think you’re misreading our Annie Sullivan. She’s a sweet girl—none sweeter in Linden Corners, if you ask me—but she’s had a tough time of late, that’s for certain. So if she comes off a bit brusque, it’s not you she’s reacting to. Just circumstance. Word is, Brian, her little girl can’t stop talking about you. Calls you the Windmill Man.”
“The Windmill Man?” I asked. “She barely knows me.”
“I’ve seen four girls grow from little to big, and if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that kids make up their own minds, and they do it pretty quickly. Adults, we question people’s motives, act all shy and reserved, and it’s any wonder we make friends or meet loved ones, given our skittish behavior. Kids, though, they make friends like it’s a magic act. Wave a wand and instant best friends. Janey’s no different. Living up on that hill, she’s pretty removed from town; people think it’s not right. But she goes to school, makes easy friends, and, as far as I’m concerned, is a better judge of character than most adults. So if she says she likes you, better know it’s genuine.”
Having made an impression on Janey left me feeling special, honored. “And so how did you hear about the Windmill Man?”
“Gerta heard it from Cynthia Knight, who heard it right from the horse’s mouth, as they say.”
The network of small-town talk no longer surprised me, but it sure did entertain me. “George, I’ve been in town six days, and already people are talking like I’ve lived here for years.”
He nodded. “That’s because you said the magic words.”
“Magic words?”
All around us a quiet descended, shushing even the crickets, it seemed. In the sparse light of the porch, blackness just beyond, George rocked in his chair, a smile growing on his weathered face. “The reason you stopped in the first place, Brian, the windmill. You said you liked it, didn’t you? Told Janey, told Annie. Believe me, you made an impression.”
“And now the town is talking about the Windmill Man?”
“It’s not the town that’s important, Brian. It’s the fact that the Woman Who Loved the Windmill mentioned you. Brian, Annie’s not the same effervescent girl she once was. Why, when she came to Linden Corners, she was a wide-eyed beauty who fell in love with a town landmark, saved it, and in turn gave renewed life to this town. We’re a grateful town, and so we look after her. After Dan died, she just closed up, kept to herself, and concentrated on raising Janey. And don’t get me wrong—she’s done a great job, like I’ve said. But a person can’t just shut down emotionally; it’s not healthy. You’ve got to live—not in the past but in the moment and for the future. You young kids don’t always see it that way, ’cause wisdom comes with age.” He paused, shaking his head. “I’ll shut up. Now’s not the time for lecturing.”
“No, George, believe me—your words are greatly appreciated. More than you know.”
“You sure about that?” he said, with a quizzical lift of his eyebrow.
I realized he hadn’t been talking just about Annie. Though I’d spilled nothing of my own troubles, it had not taken much for George to see inside me, sensing the issues I’d yet to come to terms with.
“You’re a shrewd man, George Connors.”
We sat in companionable silence for a while, each alone with his thoughts. Mine turned toward this strange little town and how it had welcomed me with such wide open arms. It couldn’t have been because I admitted to being drawn in by the windmill. A building doesn’t have such power, and people don’t obsess over such things, surely. And this added notion that there was a hidden
“Oh, I think you’re misreading our Annie Sullivan. She’s a sweet girl—none sweeter in Linden Corners, if you ask me—but she’s had a tough time of late, that’s for certain. So if she comes off a bit brusque, it’s not you she’s reacting to. Just circumstance. Word is, Brian, her little girl can’t stop talking about you. Calls you the Windmill Man.”
“The Windmill Man?” I asked. “She barely knows me.”
“I’ve seen four girls grow from little to big, and if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that kids make up their own minds, and they do it pretty quickly. Adults, we question people’s motives, act all shy and reserved, and it’s any wonder we make friends or meet loved ones, given our skittish behavior. Kids, though, they make friends like it’s a magic act. Wave a wand and instant best friends. Janey’s no different. Living up on that hill, she’s pretty removed from town; people think it’s not right. But she goes to school, makes easy friends, and, as far as I’m concerned, is a better judge of character than most adults. So if she says she likes you, better know it’s genuine.”
Having made an impression on Janey left me feeling special, honored. “And so how did you hear about the Windmill Man?”
“Gerta heard it from Cynthia Knight, who heard it right from the horse’s mouth, as they say.”
The network of small-town talk no longer surprised me, but it sure did entertain me. “George, I’ve been in town six days, and already people are talking like I’ve lived here for years.”
He nodded. “That’s because you said the magic words.”
“Magic words?”
All around us a quiet descended, shushing even the crickets, it seemed. In the sparse light of the porch, blackness just beyond, George rocked in his chair, a smile growing on his weathered face. “The reason you stopped in the first place, Brian, the windmill. You said you liked it, didn’t you? Told Janey, told Annie. Believe me, you made an impression.”
“And now the town is talking about the Windmill Man?”
“It’s not the town that’s important, Brian. It’s the fact that the Woman Who Loved the Windmill mentioned you. Brian, Annie’s not the same effervescent girl she once was. Why, when she came to Linden Corners, she was a wide-eyed beauty who fell in love with a town landmark, saved it, and in turn gave renewed life to this town. We’re a grateful town, and so we look after her. After Dan died, she just closed up, kept to herself, and concentrated on raising Janey. And don’t get me wrong—she’s done a great job, like I’ve said. But a person can’t just shut down emotionally; it’s not healthy. You’ve got to live—not in the past but in the moment and for the future. You young kids don’t always see it that way, ’cause wisdom comes with age.” He paused, shaking his head. “I’ll shut up. Now’s not the time for lecturing.”
“No, George, believe me—your words are greatly appreciated. More than you know.”
“You sure about that?” he said, with a quizzical lift of his eyebrow.
I realized he hadn’t been talking just about Annie. Though I’d spilled nothing of my own troubles, it had not taken much for George to see inside me, sensing the issues I’d yet to come to terms with.
“You’re a shrewd man, George Connors.”
We sat in companionable silence for a while, each alone with his thoughts. Mine turned toward this strange little town and how it had welcomed me with such wide open arms. It couldn’t have been because I admitted to being drawn in by the windmill. A building doesn’t have such power, and people don’t obsess over such things, surely. And this added notion that there was a hidden
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