An International Exchange
By J.P. Garland
“Good evening. Is tap water alright?”
Those were the first words she said. My parents and I were at a restaurant in Lenox, Massachusetts. We’ve had a house outside of town for years, and I was up as usual for a week in August. We were on the early side that night and seeing as it was not hot, we shared a table on the porch, overlooking Church Street.
Lenox has long been a spot for New Yorkers and Bostonians to vacation or own second homes. In an era long gone, the families of New York bankers summered there and the husbands—always the husbands—took a train to a nearby station on Fridays and return to Manhattan on Sunday night.
Lenox is known for two things. It is where Edith Wharton’s house, the “Mount,” is—now fully restored with spectacul
