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our monthly meetings and introduces himself. He says he’s moving up here with some friends and that they’ll be buying up a bunch of property. He knows people are going to talk ‘cause his bunch is a little unusual, but that we’re all going’ to be real good neighbors.
    He’s not asking us for anything, you know-it’s more like an announcement, just so we don’t think he’s sneaking around trying to pull a fast one. “Well, sneaking was hardly a problem. They came in here gangbusters, paying top dollar for about a dozen houses, buying the old Morse farm north of town, building something like a church up in the woods beyond Atlantic, opening that restaurant, spreading money around like snow in January. People were so busy stuffing their pockets, they didn’t see half the town had switched hands.” “How many members are in the Order?” “Oh, I don’t know-seventy-five to a hundred. Anyway, problem was, once they were in, the town was split in two; they didn’t mix with us and we weren’t invited to mix with them. It’s against their religion, or whatever they call it. You saw it in that house: They’re real structured and keep to themselves. They say they’re anti-materialists and that everybody who ain’t like them are the bad guys. It’s like any other bunch of oddballs, I suppose-you got to hate something or someone to make yourself feel better. Maybe that’s what Greta’s doing.” I had seen Greta’s hatred, and Wingate’s, but Fox had seemed downright gracious in the face of our invasion. “Who do they hate?” “The ‘material world,’ as they call it: the pollution, the moneygrubbing, the commercialism, electricity and plumbing and cars-us, in other words.” “Does that animosity ever come out? Have they ever threatened anyone?” He gave a surprised look. “Oh, no, they wouldn’t touch us with songs. Except for Sarris he’s their ambassador in dealing with the outside world.” I shook my head. “So it’s a time bomb?” He chuckled, which came as a relief. “We could be close-minded y now. I don’t know. There’s more, though, a feel to it that unsettles people.
    I’m not real bent out of shape myself, mind you. I don’t like hat we lost half the town, but that was our fault. Other people, though, see ‘em as a threat. They dress funny, look weird, keep to themselves.
    Hell, when you get down to it, I think it’s just the hippy thing all over again. They’re nature freaks they fertilize their gardens with their own shit; they don’t believe in zippers or in getting married; they call each other by funny names. And then there’s the sex.
    Rumor has it everybody does it with everybody else and Sarris gets the pick of the litter. Doesn’t sound too bad to me, but people like Greta ain’t too fond of it. She always was a little strait-laced, I thought.”
    “You told me once the restaurant was the only genuine business the town has.” He sighed. “Oh, it is-it’s real successful. It has a mailorder part to it, too, that sells ‘natural food,’ whatever the hell that is.
    But with the town half-sold on, and the restaurant pulling whatever traffic comes y, Greta’s found herself pretty pinched. The whole town has, for that matter.” He shook his head and smiled sadly.
    “Looks like maybe we sold our soul for a few quick bucks.” “How badly off is she?” “Greta? Who knows? She’s gotten pretty wild about them.
    You want to get your ears burned, just mention the Order. This Wingate couple blowing into town has been like a fuse. She’s latched onto them like a mother hen, determined to help them find their daughter. I don’t know, though. They seem pretty weird to me, too.” Despite Buster’s amiable tone, the picture he was drawing was rim, of desperate people in a face-on, the backs of their heels on the edge of a chasm. “Has Wingate blown up before?” Buster frowned. “That was a first; course, he’s only been here a couple of days. It wouldn’t