Deb followed her usual habit of getting to the scene a few minutes early, parking in a well-maintained rectangular gravel driveway before the sun quite managed to set.
The old Johnston place went against the norm for the area in not showing a single red brick or sliver of white wooden siding. The ornate two-story house rose up in solid gray stone instead, with broad porches top and bottom under the gradual slope of a darker slate roof.
Deb wondered how long it took the stonemasons to make the rounded supports for the railing along the top one. Between that, the lovely angular appearance of the stones, and the curves and arches all over, they’d obviously been artisans equal to anyone working in big cities at the time.
The original timber-baron owners had picked quite a spot, on a big eno
