This winter was no exception. April heaved another shovel of snow off the sidewalk in front of The Tea Cozy, then leaned on her shovel to survey the street. Otterman was lined with shops and restaurants, some that had been in business for longer than she’d been alive. Take the Nit & Pick—the knitting store catty-corner on the block. Mrs. Crossman had owned and operated it for forty years. Now, her daughter ran the store, but Mrs. Crossman tried to make it into town at least twice a week to check on things and make sure Mary was holding the standard she'd set. A cold, icy wind whipped down Otterman from South Pitt, causing the snow in the street to swirl like vapor on the plowed macadam. A few leaves, leftover from fall, caught up in the swirl floated in the air, creating a pattern. A sign. The shape took form. The meaning clear. A dark woman. The dried leaves fell to the street, then were picked up again by another gust of wind.
