From the book :
TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS AGO Her baby wouldn’t stop crying. She’d started fussing at the last station, when the Greyhound bus out of Bangor stopped in Portland to pick up more passengers. Now, at a little after 1 A.M., they were almost to the Boston terminal, and the two-plus hours of trying to soothe her infant daughter were, as her friends back in school would say, getting on her last nerve. The man beside her in the next seat probably wasn’t thrilled, either. “I’m real sorry about this,” she said, turning to speak to him for the first time since he’d gotten on. “She’s usually not this cranky. It’s our first trip together. I guess she’s just ready to get where we’re going.” The man blinked at her slowly, smiled without showing his teeth. “Where you headed?” “New York City.
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