Jack agreed to that and a couple of days later—with plenty of misgivings on my part—we flew to Cleveland and rented a car to drive to the farm. Jack wanted to drive all the way in the Oldsmobile station wagon, but I felt he wasn’t up to it.

It took about an hour from the Cleveland airport to reach the Ashland real estate office where a Mr. Siebold gave us the keys to the Caine house.

“If you decide not to stay, I’ll be happy to try and rent the place again,” he told us. “I’m sure I can eventually, especially if you’d be willing to come down a bit in what you’re asking.”

“It seems to me that two hundred a month is little enough for a furnished house that size and a hundred and fifty acres of land,” Jack said.

“Farms are going begging around here, Mr. Caine, especially rental farms.”

“Has anyone even considered renting it?” I asked.

“Three or four families have looked at it,” Mr. Siebold said.

“And turned it down because of the price?”

“They didn’t say, but I assumed that’s what it was. I don’t know of any other reason, do you?” He ushered us to the door, seemingly anxious to be rid of us. “If any problems come up, you might want to talk with Mrs. Reddy, your aunt’s housekeeper. She lives with her daughter and son-­in-­law, the Emil Webers. They’re a mile and a half or so down your road on the same side.”

“What sort of problems would you expect to come up?” I inquired.

“Oh, I just mean that Mrs. Reddy could probably give you the names of reliable repair people, if you ever need them. Incidentally there’s no telephone on the place. I guess your aunt wouldn’t have one. If you want one installed, you’ll have to make arrangements with the company here in Ashland.”

“We won’t bother about it right now,” I said.

Mr. Siebold wished us luck and we started off with the hand-­drawn map he had given us. Jack wasn’t sure he remembered how to get to the farm, which was located on a secondary road about ten miles from Ashland.

When I saw the road, I was even more discouraged. It was gravel and I wondered what it would be like in winter, although I was determined then never to see snow on it. On each side the fields were overgrown and seemingly abandoned, with patches of what I took to be second-­growth timber here and there.

“Didn’t the Caine family have any neighbors?” I asked.

“Not too many close ones.” Jack was trying to steer around the washed-­out places in the road. “There are more farms on the other side of our place and the road is paved there too. A lot of these places were abandoned years ago.”