Orient, seated at the toe of the north leg of Long Island, ebbs and flows with the seasons. When the days start to grow, the first SUVs begin to roll in, filled with beach towels, croquet sets, and the summering multitudes of nearby New York City. But when the season reaches its close and the swell recedes, a town remains in its wake. This is the real Orient, the one that stood on its lawn, gardening trowel hung low at its side, eyes squinting against the sun, as Mills Chevern rode into town in Paul Benchley's passenger seat on that last day of summer. Who is this foster kid? Where did he come from? Why did Paul, that nice, lonely, middle-aged neighbor bring him here to our quiet streets? It's not long after Mills rolls in that all hell breaks loose: the local handyman is found bloated to bursting in the bay, an elderly neighbor is discovered face-down in her garage, and a grotesque creature washes up on shore.
|