“I hope this is the correct turn,” Dr. Connor muttered. “They did say there wouldn’t be a school sign.” The only indication on the highway was a small notice reading PRIVATE ROAD. The road turned out to be a long, winding driveway into the school grounds. The breeze that had been blowing all morning stirred the green and wine-coloured leaves of the maples and cherries lining the drive, but the ornamental trees blocked out much of the view of the grounds. Darrell felt a sudden sense of panic. “Mom, this place seems so weird. Wouldn’t you rather have me with you this summer? I don’t need to go to an art school over the summer break. I’ll just bring my supplies and follow you around. What could be more inspirational to an artist than spending the summer in Europe?” Dr. Connor shook her head firmly. “I’m sorry, Darrell. If this were a sightseeing trip or even a business trip with conventional hours I would love to have you with me.” She gripped the wheel and glanced at Darrell.
