“Don’t come in!” I cry. Much louder than would ordinarily be necessary, but Ben comes just then with a laughing bark I hope to mask.
“Don’t you worry,” the conductor calls back. “Just don’t miss your stop.”
We scramble into our clothes and shoulder our bags. We hurry down the hall and jump to the platform, flushed and laughing, just as the train is starting to pull away.
It turns out Glenwood is the perfect getaway by train. The station is an easy walk to the little Main Street, which is right across the highway from the pool and the historic stone pile of the Hotel Colorado, to which Ben suggests we head.
“Fancy,” I say.
“Hey, we’ve only been going out a few months. I’m still trying to impress you. Next year you’ll be lucky to get a card.”
We start across the bridge over the highway
