More recently, clusters of affordable townhomes and high-end housing developments had begun to encroach on the open fields. The houses’ reclaimed wood floors and wrap-around porches mimicked the old farmhouses they replaced, and the neighborhood names, like Deerfield and Quail Ridge, evoked the local wildlife even as they drove it away. In theory, New Falls was within commuting distance of both Philadelphia and New York City, but the closest highways were nearly thirty minutes away, making the town feel either pleasantly secluded or isolated, depending on your perspective. The families that had been there for generations were spoiled by its peace and beauty, and the highly ranked public school provided a good education to the children of doctors and landscapers alike.

It was a town where everyone, if asked, claimed to be middle class, whether they had a Mercedes in the garage or a tractor they could barely afford to keep running. This attitude was evidence of the town’s Pennsylvania Quaker roots: a belief in the importance of equality and humility, even where it didn’t actually exist. New Falls prided itself on retaining its character, and it was true that if you squinted, the town looked much as it had a hundred years ago. But the house going up on River Road was new, and different—a sign not of suburban sprawl, but of money and style, trickling down from New York.

The sleek contemporary sat just north of town, shielded from its neighbors by several acres of wooded waterfront on either side. It was long and angular, with walls of glass along the back and a wide deck that wrapped around to a firepit. It resembled a series of boxes, each opened like a gift toward the river. Inside, the rooms were light and airy, with expanses of white walls and a pristine, almost featureless white kitchen. A black metal staircase seemed to float unsupported up to the second floor. In the back, the deck dropped off and the carpet of grass ran right to the river’s edge, where it met stone steps that descended straight into the water.

There were a few girls sitting there now, their bare feet dangling in the water. Halfway between the house and the river was a pool, the concrete poured but not yet filled with water. Two boys were using it as a half-pipe, the wheels of their skateboards hissing up and down the curved walls. The local skaters could sniff out newly built pools as if they had a divining rod for waterless ponds. Or maybe one of the kids’ uncles worked for the concrete company.