When she had informed her friends and loved ones that she planned to take a teaching position in Old Middleton—a village cradled deep in the woods of Wisconsin—they had warned her that the place was bound to be a little old-fashioned (“Quaint,” said one, with a knowing smirk); a little isolated (“Just imagine the peace and quiet!” said another, with forced cheer); and exceptionally dull (“You can brush up on your quilting … and your jam-making … and your alcoholism,” said another still, with a sympathetic pat on Sasha’s shoulder).
