Welcome To Wedgwood
The trouble started on a late afternoon in September. It was around 6 p.m., and I was sitting under one of the trees in my backyard, watching a brace of pigeons splash wildly around in our stone bird bath, beneath which a stone head of the Buddha rose up from the grass. My dog Nova, a West Highland white terrier, rested peacefully nearby. I’ve always loved this hour of the day, when the spill of late afternoon light, so ethereal, filtered through old-growth trees in Wedgwood, a neighborhood of gentle hills and slopes at the edge of strip malls, burger joints, auto dealers, and Rick’s topless nightclub in Lake City....