Fiction

   The year was 1932. The country was in the depths of the Great Depression. For Monroe Wheeler, however, the Depression meant little. His various businesses, a steel company, a lumber company, a chemical company, were providing...

   Just after 7 a.m. on Thanksgiving eve, 24 Bridgehampton students and seven staff and faculty members — a team 31 strong — boarded a McCoy bus bound for a hurricane-ravaged hamlet of East Rockaway known as Bay Park, about...

    It started as a brisk cold morning, a dreary December day as predictable as any almanac forecast. The winter solstice clearly upon us, any warmth from the sun had abated throughout the cloudy afternoon. The sun was now setting...

   I had a not-so-singular experience the other day. Coming out of Waldbaums, head bent against a slanting cold drizzle and trying to right a bum cart heavy with groceries, I noticed two people in a white S.U.V. pointing at me. This is...

   It started . . . well, I guess you can say, it started when I bought this house.  I saw the house for the first time on a February day.  Now you all know how dismal February can be in the Northeast. I set out on February...

   Detective Inspector Bishop left his car in a cloud of smoke, stamping out the barely lit cigarette underneath his heel. He felt terrible afterward. Cigarettes were getting hard to come by these days, and he immediately felt the...

   Chubby, awkward, and full of dreams in 1970, I sat at the window of my parents’ house on Bayberry Lane in Amagansett Dunes. They weren’t called “the Dunes” back then. It was simply the big sandy area east of...

Jess was sitting by the window watching rain split the sandy glass like wandering ant trails; rain for the first time in six weeks.             Rain here was like blood trickling into a weak body...

   “I see your brother outside,” David said. “What’s he doing?”                 
   Colin went over to the window to see...