“Do you suppose we took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in Brigadoon instead of Essex, Connecticut?” Whitney stared out the front window of the BMW with the rapt attention of a moviegoer at an old fashioned drive-in; except the big screen she was watching was the heart of a real small town.
“No idea. Shall we punch Brigadoon into the GPS? It is gorgeous, though. The peace and quiet does have an ‘other-worldly’ effect. Not one car or messy, dirty soul on the street. I’d say it’s heaven alright; even without the GPS.”
Robert inched the car forward so slowly it barely moved down the little village’s main street. No reason to worry about holding up traffic. There wasn’t any. There wasn’t anything moving as a matter of fact. Funny feeling; nothing to worry about. “What can it be like to live in a place like this?” he asked. A private question, not meant for Whitney’s response.
“How should I know? I’ve never lived anywhere but the big apple for more than a few months at a time.” She sat forward in her seat, straining to find some fault with the pastoral scene unfolding around them. “Is there time to stop a minute? Could we still make the ferry?” Her voice dropped a little, the tone unfamiliar and wistful; to Robert, it sounded a little childish, with an anticipation of disappointment. He fulfilled her expectation.
“Better not.” His work had trained him to leave no negotiating room. He hadn’t come to litigation with that finely honed skill, but soon learned it in order to reap the rewards of his law firm’s partnership. “We should get to the ferry early to be on the safe side. Wouldn’t want to be stranded here in Neverland.”