If Rosie believed Ethan wouldn’t be out in this, the man proved her wrong. Though…at a guess, Ethan had been on his way back to the staff house and stopped to right some ornaments which had taken a tumble in the wind. Feet skidding on the path forced Rich to grab a tree to avoid falling. The slope leading down to where Ethan stood was short but treacherous in the torrent. Rich hugged bark and stared at the crouched figure.
The man laid the ornaments—silver shapes on tall black metal stems of varying heights—to one side. The softness of the ground told the story of how much rain had fallen. Water ran off the hat Ethan wore—one of those sou’wester styles. A cruel wind sprang up as a wicked reminder Rich wore nothing but a cotton shirt now soaked through; Rich envied Ethan his waterproofs.
