The Kennedy of Hickory Hill
SET back from a crescent-shaped driveway, the white Georgian manor sits atop a grassy knoll, its bright red door beckoning in the sunshine of an early Virginia spring. The air is vibrant with the commotion of shrieking children and barking dogs at play beneath budding oaks and hickories. A woman—joking, chiding, cajoling—bustles in and out of the house, chatting with friends who come to visit, taking on an older child at tennis (and winning), carrying a beer to a gardener on the...
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