Lucy stepped on an ancient landmine outside Girvetz Hall. I talked to her brother, Suvin, about it as we strolled the beach while the med-techs in the aid center tried to piece her back together. "If it had been one of those new ones, I’m not sure there would be any Lucy left," he said, his eyes drifting to the horizon. "Then again, she hasn't really been 'Lucy' since the winter solstice, has she?" I understood his meaning. Everyone did. Just two weeks earlier, I’d found he

4385 Algoma Place: The first home she shows us is a stunner. A hillside craftsmen in a calm neighborhood.