The town of Maplewood was the sort of place where nothing much ever happened, and the calendar seemed to know it. Summers stretched long and sticky, winters gray and short, and the in-between seasons barely bothered to show up. People went to school or work, mowed their lawns in neat rows, bought the same brands of cereal at Harper’s Supermarket (the only one in town, unless you counted the gas station that sold off-brand chips), and talked about the weather as if it were news.
