Rick stood in the grassy triangle outside Starbucks and across the street from the Ye Olde Cheese Shoppe.

The sign on the rusting street lamp at the tip of the triangle said, Downtown Rejuvenation Plan -- On Track, For You.

Rick wondered, is seven years too long a time to...read more

Fled and Rita, Fled's wife, stood on the front stoop when Rick opened his door.

Rita was wearing a sky blue running suit. Rick was in a white T-shirt. Fled was carrying a spading fork; he leaned it against a wall. The spade tipped over, landed on a row of empty glass Pepsi bottles, shattering them.

"Hi, Rick," Rita said. "We were wondering about the front lawn."

"Wondering?" Rick said. Fled rolled his eyes, offered his open ...read more

Rick walked into the room, and saw no poker chips or decks of cards or bags of Doritos on the table. Fled was drinking a diet root beer and some other guy he didn't know was drinking a Snapple, but the rest of the guys, none of whom he knew, were drinking nothing.

"Where's the beer?" Rick said.

Fled smiled casually.

A man in a white shirt and yellow tie stoop up and extended his ...read more