“Is this the Wilson house?” I asked and looked up, even though I already knew the answer. Emmy nodded excitedly. “Just went up for rent yesterday. Apparently, Mrs. Wilson moved into a care facility.” Anne Wilson was a kind, elderly woman who was as much a part of Meadowlark as the diner or the Devil’s Boot. I met her when I was in high school. Dusty and I used to park at her house before we went hiking, and she would leave treats on her porch for when we were done. Like everyone I knew, Anne loved Dusty. I remember him weeding her yard in the summer and shoveling snow for her in the winter,
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