“Guess we’ll see. How’s the weekend going for you? Are you having fun? Did you have the big poker party yet?”
“The poker game is tomorrow night,” he said. “But today I baked a cake today to get ready and had a lot of fun doing it.”
“You baked the chocolate cake?”
“I did. I haven’t frosted it yet, though. I’m letting it cool first before I have fun frosting it. But it looks and smells good.”
I rolled onto my back, adjusting the pillow behind my head. “Did I ever tell you how sexy it is when you talk about cooking?”
“Remind me to do it more often,” he said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “What’s on the agenda for you girls tomorrow if the casino and shopping are off the schedule?”
“We’re going to a historical site called Batsto Village. It’s an old ironwork factory where they made weapons during the American Revolution.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It sounds fun,” I corrected him. “At least there’s a lower probability of trouble there than at the casino.”
He laughed. “Ah, with you, cara, trouble is practically guaranteed. But so far, so good. I just hope it stays that way.”
I couldn’t argue with him. “Me, too, Slash. Me, too.”
Chapter Seven
Lexi
“Road trips should be illegal so soon after breakfast,” I declared, getting in the back seat of Gray’s car and buckling in. “You guys know I have somewhat of an issue with car sickness.”
“It’s been two hours since breakfast,” Gray said. “We can’t wait forever on your stomach. Roll down the window. But I’m warning you, do not throw up in my car. Is that clear?” She pulled onto the Atlantic City Expressway with military precision.
“Crystal,” I replied. “But where were you when Basia, Gwen, Elvis, and Finn all threw up in my rental car on the day before my wedding?”
“I still thank God I missed that,” Gray said pointing to the sky. “But the rule still stands. No puke in my car from anyone…or else.”
“Fine,” I said, rolling the window down and sticking my head out. The wind was cool and felt good. My stomach seemed fairly stable, so that was a good sign.
“I’m so excited,” Gwen said. “Batsto Village sounds super interesting.” She wore a light brown coat with a bright red, yellow, and orange scarf wrapped around her neck. With her matching red hair, she looked like the living embodiment of autumn. “Just think. Historic charm, fall vibes, and educational enrichment.” She toasted me with her pumpkin spice latte.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said. “I just wish we could transport there.”
Basia laughed. “It’s going to be a lovely drive, Lexi. Relax.”
It wasn’t hard to follow her advice. The drive was pretty, even though most of the trees were already bare. Distracted by the lovely view, my stomach didn’t give me any problems. By the time we hit Wharton State Forest, I had to admit the drive had been easy as promised. I hadn’t expected the village to be so rural, but it was located right by the forest.
As we got closer to our destination, Batsto Village nestled against the trees and the gentle hills behind it looked like a time capsule with quaint wooden colonial-style buildings, historic signs, and dirt sidewalks.
We exited the car and made our way to the visitor center, where we bought tickets. There weren’t many tourists and no kids in sight. I guess November wasn’t exactly high season for the village. After a brief discussion, we decided to tour the glassworks first, where molten sand shimmered in glowing orange furnaces like mini supernovas. Two men and a woman were working intently on the glass. Dan, our guide for the glassworks, lit up as he explained the process of blowing glass with eighteenth-century tools.
Gray and I leaned in at the exact same time. “So, they achieved those hot temperatures just by using charcoal-fired blast furnaces?” I asked.
Dan nodded. “They didn’t use electricity and had no forced draft. They just used manual bellows and airflow control.”
“Genius,” I said, shaking my head in awe. “Primitive thermal engineering. Seriously cool.”
Behind us, Basia yawned audibly. “You two realize you’re geeking out over colonial sand, right?”
“It’s silica,” I corrected automatically. “With iron impurities, which gives it that green tint. See?” I pointed at it.
“I’m not sure I understand the exact science of how it changed from sand to glass, but I’ll be the first to say the results are amazing,” Gwen said. “The blown glass is stunning.”
