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Show The Chimney 103 that covered the glass. A vase had been cut in half vertically, mounted to the red door, and arranged carefully with a bouquet of paper flowers-ample blooms of pastel with no leaves. On the second story level, a large photograph of the house i t s e l f was framed by the front window. The brown sepia tintype was flanked by shutters that had two bas-relief vases carved crudely into the wood, also f i l l e d with bouquets of paper. The man in the yard continued to prepare the s o i l , digging into i t with his trowel, refining i t through the cracks in his fingers, letting i t sprinkle through the air and catch sparks of early afternoon sunlight. David Langley dismounted, crossed the irrigation ditch, and tied his horse to the red fence. Though the householder gave no sign of recognition, Mr. Langley unlatched the gate and closed i t carefully behind him. Casually, he made his way toward the front porch and stopped short of the place where the man bent over the s o i l . From this vantage point, Langley could see that the pillars on the porch were monogrammed with i n i t i a l s cut from lace paper and adorned with bluebird scrip. "Good morning to you, s i r . " Langley removed his hat. "What do you want?" he asked, clawing through the d i r t with bent fingers. " I f you'll please forgive me," Langley said as he settled his weight onto his l e f t leg, " I ' d just like to know about your house. I've never seen anything quite like i t , to t e l l you the truth." "You like my house?" As the man turned his head slightly toward him, Langley observed a flawed complexion framed by a mass of coarse blonde hair with cowlicks as stubborn as straw. His pale blue eyes were rimmed in pink. His white-blonde eyebrows were spare, almost lost on his face. |