These Summer Storms

by Sarah MacLean

(Who needs titles when you can have trains?)

“Sousaphones don’t really fit in the overhead on the Amtrak regional.” “I don’t think there was a sousaphone.” “If you say so,” he said, and she couldn’t help her little surprised laugh.

There were some lovely things about Gilded Age manor houses. An endless supply of rooms of all different sizes. High ceilings. Crown molding. Original hardwood floors laid out in meticulous patterns. Enormous sinks. Claw-foot tubs. Closets (one of America’s greatest inventions) with enough space to have once carried bustles, corsets, and yards of silk and velvet.

Still, when she was alone, painting for herself, Alice always came back to the water, full of secrets, impossible to capture without leaning in to chaos.