Page 5 of Old Money
“Is that—is that the Wishing Well?”
Theo follows my gaze, confused.
“Yeah?”
We pass the old, familiar shop—the candy store we used to go to on Friday afternoons, when they gave out soft pretzels. It’s built like a gingerbread house, with stained-glass windows, and an old covered well out front that we’d all been warned not to climb on.
I’d expected to find the village center full of unsettling changes—a Starbucks where the old pharmacy stood, the candy store bulldozed for a parking lot. But the place hasn’t moved a muscle. There’s the old stone church with its tiny cemetery full of Dutch sailors and slanted headstones. There’s the Little Village Bookshop, and the ice cream stand that served chalky soft-serve and amazing lemonade.
“What?” Theo asks, still confused.
“I just— How is it all still here?” I reply. “Exactly the same as it used to be?”
He snorts.
“Come on, that’s the village motto, right? ‘Briar’s Green: Just like it used to be”
***
Briar’s Green literally runs by its own rulebook. It’s one of a handful of colonial-era villages that still operate under their owncharters. I couldn’t tell you what a charter is, or why they get to have one. It’s one of those remnant scraps of legislation, like daylight saving time, that everyone abides by without knowing why. But what it means in practice is that Briar’s Green has its own set of laws, which—withshockinglyfew exceptions—cannot be overruled by the state or federal government.
This made for all sorts of rumors when I was a kid. We used to believe you could get arrested for blowing gum bubbles or kissing with your tongue. The reality is far less thrilling, though equally absurd. Village law is more concerned with your house and garden than your tongue. No asphalt driveways, for example. No neon storefront signs. No gates above six feet, or boundary walls below four. No invisible fencing or visible sprinklers, no barn renovations andnonew-build homes unless village council approves your architect (it won’t—I think that codicil might be sarcasm).
The village guards its visible history with an iron fist. There are stone walls here that pre-date theMayflower, and countless outbuildings and haylofts where Revolutionary generals slept or ate or died from typhus. The phraseold moneyconjures images of grandeur—feather beds and gilded mansions—but in Briar’s Green it looks like musty houses with worn-out floors and doors that stick in the summer. It looks like acres of neglected meadow, and knotty trees with half-rotted rope swings that one of the Roosevelts swung from as a child. No one will ever specify which—goodness, how inelegant—and if you ask, they’ll feign ignorance, and slip out of the conversation. They’ll know you’re not like them.
***
“Get this,” says Theo. “They’re trying to establish ‘tourist hours.’ ”
We’re past the village center now, back in the tunnel of green.
“Hmm?” I say, still dazed by the time warp.
“Basically, no outsiders allowed before noon or after five,”Theo scoffs. “I guess they’ve had a few more than usual this year, but it’s like, sorry, these are public roads.”
“Right,” I say, picturing the train girl, grinning like a kid. “I met one. One of those true-crime creeps obsessed with Caitlin.”
We reach a stop sign, and Theo brakes just hard enough for me to realize my mistake.
“Is that what this is about?” Theo asks softly. “All the media stuff?”
I’m already shaking my head.
“Nope. It’s not. And I’m not having this conversation again.”
Theo leans over, trying to catch my eye.
“Because I’d understand. It gets to me too, you know? And for you—”
“Theo.”
“Especially with this whole Susannah thing.”
“Theo!” I bark, turning a hard stare on him. “I said no.”
He calmly closes his mouth, his eyes going soft and understanding. Except he doesn’t understand. Hethinkshe does, and nothing I say will sway him. The problem with Theo’s evident brilliance is that he always thinks he’s right, and anyone who disagrees is wrong. And all wrongsmustbe righted. This is what makes him so great in court and an absolute nightmare at Thanksgiving.
Another car approaches behind us, forcing Theo to drive on.
