loved so much there in the heart of Amish country. As we grew older and got driver’s licenses—and Haley’s father gave her a car—we continued the tradition, driving out to Dreiheit for the occasional weekend of fun and relaxation at her mom’s. A hippie-type who had long wavy hair and wore peasant blouses, Mrs. Wynn was not a typical suburban mother. Once we started high school, she began insisting that I was old enough to call her by her first name, Melody, and that I make myself completely at home whenever I was there. She had an organic garden out back, one that was so prolific that it was like having our own personal produce stand. Though Haley was allergic to tomatoes, I loved nothing more than to pick them right off the vine, wash them, and eat them like apples.
As nice as Haley’s mother was, though, I liked her father better. Melody was pleasantly laid back, but Orin Wynn had the sharp mind, quick wit, and boundless energy of a hugely successful entrepreneur. I was used to boring, mostly trivial conversations around my family’s dinner table at home, but whenever I was invited to dinner at Haley’s with her and her dad, the conversations were challenging and fascinating—and never predictable. On one evening we might debate the merits of capitalism versus socialism or name the Ten Places We Most Wanted to See in Our Lifetimes. When Haley and I were in our junior year of high school, I was eating over when the conversation turned to Bobby, who was in his first year of college at the University of Pennsylvania.
“That’s rather impressive,” Mr. Wynn had said, adding that UPenn wasa top-notch school and a member of the Ivy League. When he learned that Bobby was in premed, hoping to continue on after graduation at the medical school there, he stopped cutting his steak and gave me a nod. “Do you know if he has plans for next summer? Because we’re expanding our research extension out in Lancaster County. We’ll have a few openings for summer interns in the DNA lab, if he’s interested.”
I had no idea if Bobby was into DNA work or not, but I told Mr. Wynn I would ask him.
“We’ve already filled one spot with a fellow down from Harvard, a first-year med student named Reed Thornton. There are still two spots left though, so have your brother give me a call.”
Have your brother give me a call.
It was just a chance remark, a kind offer from a family friend, but it would end up being the seven words that were the beginning of the end for all of us.
Mr. Wynn owned Wynn Industries, a huge pharmaceutical company based in Hidden Springs. I didn’t think his offer of an internship was any big deal, but when I called Bobby at school a few days later and conveyed the conversation to him, he was beside himself with excitement.
“DNA is where the future is!” Bobby cried. “Of
course
I’m into DNA work, you goofball.”
Bobby had contacted Mr. Wynn immediately and arranged an interview, and about a month later he learned that he had been hired. The third internship went to a student from yet another Ivy League school, a guy from the Midwest named Doug Brown. That June, as soon as the semester was over, Bobby packed up the things from his dorm room and moved them out to a rental in Dreiheit, where the lab was located. Unlike the other two interns, Bobby was already very familiar with the town and its environs from the years of visiting our grandparents there.
A few weeks later, Haley and I drove to Dreiheit to spend the Fourth of July weekend at her mom’s. We decided to pay a visit to Bobby at the lab while we were in town, and though I enjoyed seeing his workplace and meeting his boss, the brilliant Dr. Updyke, Haley had been more interested in one of Bobby’s fellow interns, the one from the Midwestnamed Doug. Haley and Doug hit it off immediately, and by the time the fireworks went off on the night of the Fourth, they were making a few fireworks of their own.
Soon they were officially a
As nice as Haley’s mother was, though, I liked her father better. Melody was pleasantly laid back, but Orin Wynn had the sharp mind, quick wit, and boundless energy of a hugely successful entrepreneur. I was used to boring, mostly trivial conversations around my family’s dinner table at home, but whenever I was invited to dinner at Haley’s with her and her dad, the conversations were challenging and fascinating—and never predictable. On one evening we might debate the merits of capitalism versus socialism or name the Ten Places We Most Wanted to See in Our Lifetimes. When Haley and I were in our junior year of high school, I was eating over when the conversation turned to Bobby, who was in his first year of college at the University of Pennsylvania.
“That’s rather impressive,” Mr. Wynn had said, adding that UPenn wasa top-notch school and a member of the Ivy League. When he learned that Bobby was in premed, hoping to continue on after graduation at the medical school there, he stopped cutting his steak and gave me a nod. “Do you know if he has plans for next summer? Because we’re expanding our research extension out in Lancaster County. We’ll have a few openings for summer interns in the DNA lab, if he’s interested.”
I had no idea if Bobby was into DNA work or not, but I told Mr. Wynn I would ask him.
“We’ve already filled one spot with a fellow down from Harvard, a first-year med student named Reed Thornton. There are still two spots left though, so have your brother give me a call.”
Have your brother give me a call.
It was just a chance remark, a kind offer from a family friend, but it would end up being the seven words that were the beginning of the end for all of us.
Mr. Wynn owned Wynn Industries, a huge pharmaceutical company based in Hidden Springs. I didn’t think his offer of an internship was any big deal, but when I called Bobby at school a few days later and conveyed the conversation to him, he was beside himself with excitement.
“DNA is where the future is!” Bobby cried. “Of
course
I’m into DNA work, you goofball.”
Bobby had contacted Mr. Wynn immediately and arranged an interview, and about a month later he learned that he had been hired. The third internship went to a student from yet another Ivy League school, a guy from the Midwest named Doug Brown. That June, as soon as the semester was over, Bobby packed up the things from his dorm room and moved them out to a rental in Dreiheit, where the lab was located. Unlike the other two interns, Bobby was already very familiar with the town and its environs from the years of visiting our grandparents there.
A few weeks later, Haley and I drove to Dreiheit to spend the Fourth of July weekend at her mom’s. We decided to pay a visit to Bobby at the lab while we were in town, and though I enjoyed seeing his workplace and meeting his boss, the brilliant Dr. Updyke, Haley had been more interested in one of Bobby’s fellow interns, the one from the Midwestnamed Doug. Haley and Doug hit it off immediately, and by the time the fireworks went off on the night of the Fourth, they were making a few fireworks of their own.
Soon they were officially a
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