Mo dampened a paper towel under the faucet and laid it across my forehead. She handed me my glasses and slipped her hand under my chin. “No. Let it be. We’ll order what we need. Don’t waste another minute thinking about it, you hear me?”

Mo glanced down the hall, then back to me. There was something in her eyes that scared me. It was uncertainty, fear. Of what? It could have been fifty different things, but I was afraid in that moment it might be me. She took me by the arm and led me out of the shop.

The next morning, we loaded the car up. I gave Jake my house key and asked him to water my plants before we took off.

Navigation said we’d get to Rhinebeck in two hours and twenty-three minutes. Mom pointed out that was the exact length of the Hamilton soundtrack, and I knew what we’d be listening to on our trip. Mo was Hamilton, Mom was Eliza, and I was Angelica, Peggy, and Mariah Reynolds—but they asked me to chill during “Say No to This” because apparently, my ho impression was too spot-on. It was only a bunch of gyrating and overdramatic hand gestures, but they weren’t having it.

We kept the windows down and the volume up the whole way. When we pulled into the town of Rhinebeck, the closing chords of the final song played out. Mom sobbed through Eliza’s farewell as Mo dramatically held her hand like she was the actual sad ghost of Alexander Hamilton, with me dying of embarrassment in the back seat.

“What key are y’all singin’ in?” I asked. “I don’t think any of those notes exist in real life.”

“It’s in B-quiet,” Mo said, turning to Mom. “We’re almost there. You okay?”

Mom nodded, wiping her face on her shirt.

Google said Rhinebeck had a population of seventy-seven hundred people. I told myself that was enough to keep us from feeling like we were moving to the middle of nowhere. But as we drove through the shop-lined streets of a literal village, I realized that their seven thousand, compared to our over two million in Brooklyn, was like moving to the moon. There wasn’t any traffic. People strolled along the sidewalks like they didn’t have anywhere to be. There were bike lanes and the cars actually yielded to the cyclists.

And there were trees. So many trees lining the streets. Everywhere I looked were red maple and white ash in full bloom. Their beauty held my attention for only a minute before I understood how difficult this was going to make things for me.

“I don’t know about this,” I said.

Mom laughed. “Baby, this is heaven.”

“Is it?” I asked. I was thinking of someplace else.