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“Ambitious.” Glancing over, I watch Devin relax back, scrolling through my list. “So that explains your list obsession and all these destinations.” He cracks his gum.
That dang tempting cinnamon gum. The scent fills the car every time he speaks. “Think what you will.”
“No, it’s a cool idea. I’m not knocking it.” I arch a brow with doubt. “But, maybe you shouldn’t plan so much. Be crazy. Spontaneous. What if there’s something better along the way, and you miss out on it because you picked a destination by Googling.”
“If I started with nothing, I might not see anything.”
“You’re telling me on your deathbed you’re going to be thinking, ‘Dammit. Why didn’t I visit the Taliesin?’”
I suppress the smile tugging the corner of my mouth. “Maybe. You don’t know. We haven’t seen it yet.”
“I think it’s more about experiences than checklists, Nova.”
“This could be an experience.”
“We’ll see.” Devin keeps scrolling my phone. I open my mouth to have him knock it off when he juts forward, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. How much do you know about this Frank guy?”
“Other than he’s one of the most famous architects?” My forehead rumples.
“Well, there was a massacre at this Taliesin place back in the day. And they call it the Love Cottage because Frank built it to hide away with his mistress after he left his wife and six kids.”
“No way. If you knew anything about my mom, you’d know she would’ve stumbled across that.”
“Maybe she didn’t dig for long enough or didn’t tell you.Dude. The community even threatened to tar and feather the guy to try and drive them away. Oh, this is getting good.” Devin’s face is buried in my phone as he skims whatever he found online. “Some handyman killed Frank’s mistress, her kids, and, like, four other people. And it was brutal. He slaughtered them with an ax and lit the house on fire. What kind of place are you taking me to, Spitfire?” His head whips toward me with a stunned smirk.
Tipping one shoulder, I say, “You can’t say it won’t be an experience now.”
“You got me there.” Chuckling, Devin sets my phone on the charging pad and closes his eyes as he slips his sunglasses back down. “We’ll have to wait and see if it’s worthy of Nova’s Bucket List.”
* * *
We pull into the Frank Lloyd Wright Visitor Center around lunchtime, so we head to the cafe overlooking the river. I’m not sure what I expected with this place, but Devin’s picture of my deathbed flashes through my mind as I doodle the path of our road trip on a paper napkin while we wait for our food. This helps me check Wisconsin off the list, but is this where I want to be? We can’t see the rest of the property from here, but so far, the most interesting thing about this place is the history Devin discovered on the way. Just because this is something Dad would love, why did I accept the idea to stop here without question?
After I pay for our meals, we wander through the visitor center, stopping at a touring photography exhibit on display.
“So, these are Wright’s designs.” Devin pauses at a canvas showing a pyramid shaped glass building. Studying the photograph, he unwraps a fresh stick of Big Red. “Pretty cool,” he says, shoving the gum in his mouth and wandering off.
While Devin strolls, I read the sign explaining the exhibit—Andrew Pielage, an architecture and travel photographer, traveled the country to document Wright’s designs on film. The photos are on display at Taliesin for the summer before moving on to Wright’s summer home, Taliesin West, in Arizona.
“Look at this one. A house built over a waterfall?” Devin waves me over. “That’s my kind of home.”
Fallingwater,the photograph is labeled. “That one, I know. It’s in Pennsylvania.” He waits for more. “My dad’s from Pennsylvania, and my Aunt Amber and Uncle Olle still live in the home they grew up in.”
“Have you been there? To this Fallingwater?” He knocks his chin toward the photo.
“Nah, when we go home it’s always to spend time with family. We don’t do much else. Although, we have gone to Hershey Park a few times. My dad visited the house when he was younger, though. His mom was an art teacher, and he loved art, too. I guess that’s what started his love with design.”
“And he ended up doing graphics for one of the largest names in the snowboarding world.”
“The largest name, thankyouverymuch. And yes, he combined his love of art with his love of winter sports andvoila. The rest is history.” Dad’s lucky. He’s doing exactly what he wanted to do with his life. How many times has he told me to turn my passion into my career, and I’ll always be happy? How many people live out their dreams the way my parents have? Though her dance career wasn’t as long as she might have liked, thanks to my conception, Mom performed on Broadway, and she opened a dance academy in Burlington.
“Earth to Nova.” The heat of Devin’s hand on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. “You good?”
“Yeah, just thinking. C’mon.”
We make our way into the gift shop in search of something for the man who would appreciate the history here most.
“What would your dad like?” Devin asks, meandering the aisles.
