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I cruise around a little, wondering where I should stay. I’m about to park and ask a local for a recommendation when I see a small, ivy-covered brick building tucked into a nook off the main street. There’s a sign out front announcing that it’s a bed and breakfast. I park on the street and get out for a better look.
My smile widens as I walk up. The place has a lovely, aged feel to it. There are wildflowers springing up along the edges of the path leading to the front entrance, and the front door is heavy and wooden.
I step inside and greet the woman at the front desk. She welcomes me and makes pleasant small talk as she checks me in. Key in hand, I go upstairs to see my room.
Everything is done in wood and lace. The sleigh bed is huge and covered in wool blankets. The chests and drawers are old, but beautifully polished.
I can’t wait to try out that cozy bed—or take a nice hot bath in the tub—but I decide to check out the town first before it gets fully dark out.
I’m wandering around aimlessly, taking in the heart of the town, when I see a crowd of people in a nearby park. As I get closer, I can hear voices rising and falling and a smile immediately spreads across my lips.
I would know those lines anywhere.
It’s Macbeth.
As I approach, I see that the actors are performing on a small gazebo. Even though it’s just a few actors with simple props, the energy of the show is incredible. The performers are throwing themselves into their roles and acting with enthusiasm—none of it feels forced or fake. The little smiles on their faces in between lines, the drops of perspiration on their temples, and the way they wear their costumes with pride tells me how much they enjoy their craft.
I find a comfortable place to stand and watch the play as it concludes. The crowd is enraptured the entire time. After the last line is spoken, applause erupts from everyone watching. The actors take their bows as a few flowers are thrown up onto the little stage.
As the crowd begins to spread out, I notice that someone is firing up a barbecue behind the gazebo. Music starts playing from a small speaker, and kids start chasing each other around the park.
I’m amazed by the sense of belonging that rises up in me. I don’t know anyone here, and yet…this place strangely feels like home.
I leave the park as the last wisps of day disappear into night. As I walk up the street, soft lamps come on, the lights dangling from tall, ornate posts.Up ahead, there’s a bar with laughter spilling out of its windows. It seems like a nice, welcoming place to have a drink and some dinner, so I step inside.
The place is busy and warm. Every table is full of happy, laughing people. The energy is infectious, and I feel my own spirit lifted as I sit down at the bar and order a beer.
I’m focused on the chalkboard menu, trying to decide what to eat, when I hear a familiar voice.
I look over my shoulder toward the front door and see Adrian greeting some of the other people in the bar, his height even more impressive now that he’s around others. He’s still dressed in his old clothes—soft, faded jeans and a flannel shirt, his broad shoulders tugging on the fabric. My hands immediately lift to my hair, smoothing it down as my heart beat quickens.
Oh, God. Look at me. I’m like a high school girl with an out-of-control crush.
Adrian sees me and smiles, tipping his hat. I smile back, my cheeks starting to burn. I don’t expect him to come over, but that’s exactly what he does.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not,” I say. “Take a seat.”
Adrian orders a beer from the bartender; as soon as it’s set down in front of him, he raises it in the air. I smile and raise my own.
“To serendipity,” he says.
“To serendipity,” I echo with a smile. Our glasses clink, and I take a sip of the cool beer.
I tell him about finding the bed and breakfast up the road, and how I stumbled across the play in the park. He tells me a little about the town, but only talks briefly before turning the conversation back to me again.
“So, where are you headed from here?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not completely sure, to be honest. I think I’ll just let my instincts guide me. I do know I want to see Acadia National Park, though, up in Maine. I’ve read that it’s really beautiful, and I’d like to see it for myself.”
“I see,” he says, giving a thoughtful nod. “Well, it’s really something, you doing this. I’ve never even been out of the state.”
“Really?”
He nods.
“Do you ever feel like you’re missing out?”
