CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
1
As the pair made their way south along Route 32 through the Monongahela National Forest, Angie folded and re-folded the map they’d had to buy at a little gas station just over the West Virginia border. She’d been forced to become the navigator and figure out a route from the tangle of thin black, red, and blue squiggling routes.
“I thought you said you knew how to get there,” she said.
“No,” said Peter, his index finger raised like an academic arguing a point of minutia, “I said I knew, roughly, where Glace was. I never said I knew how to get to where it was.”
“Well, your ‘roughly’ was off by about a hundred miles, mister. This two-hour trip just turned into an almost four-hour one!”
Angie knew she spoke to Peter with an angry edge to her voice she didn’t intend
