Connor asked the same thing when I bought it seven years ago, right after everything between Veronica and me, between Kevin and me, fell apart.And I'd given him some bullshit about investment potential and historical preservation.
The truth was simpler and more pathetic.
I needed somewhere to go that wasn't tainted by memories of her.
"I like trains," I say instead.
"You like trains," she repeats."So you bought one."
"Part of one."
"Right.Of course.That's a totally normal response to liking something."She's fighting a smile now."I like pizza, so I'm thinking of buying Italy."
"That's not how Italy works."
"That's not how trains work either, but here we are."
The conductor approaches—Clayton, who's been handling my trips for three years and still looks at me like I might be slightly unhinged.
"Evening, Mr.Sterling.Ms.Winters.We'll be departing in five minutes."
"Thank you, Clayton."
Sage waits until he's gone to whisper, "He thinks you're insane."
"He's not wrong."I offer her my hand."Shall we?"
She takes it, and I help her up the steps into the car.Her reaction is immediate and gratifying.
"Holy shit."
"Eloquent."
"Shut up.This is..."She turns in a slow circle, taking in the restored interior."This is incredible."
The main salon is exactly as it was in 1923.
Velvet seats.Crystal decanters.
Wood paneling that gleams like honey.
The modern additions are subtle.
WiFi.Upgraded electrical.A state-of-the-art coffee machine hidden in what used to be a coat closet.
"The bedroom's through there," I point to the rear door."And there's a small observation deck at the back."
"Bedroom?"Her voice rises."This has a bedroom?"
"It's a sleeper car."
"Right.Of course.Silly me."She collapses into one of the velvet chairs."Is there anything else I should know?Secret helicopter?Submarine you attach to ferries?"
"The helicopter isn't a secret."
She stares at me.
"That was a joke," I clarify.
