Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

behind his small walnut desk, rotating his black fountain pen between his long, thin fingers.

He looked up and smiled, the small lines around his eyes deepening as he set the pen down on a green blotter.

“Martha,” he said, his voice precise and gentle. “I saw Mrs. Gable’s car outside the county building earlier today. I take it the assessment went well?continue reading …