not? Be careful how you answer. Hallow Hill cannot leave its treasure in the hands of a person who doesn’t know whether or not he jests.”
The corners of Fie’s mouth twitched. “I simply mean that, I would eat soup if it was served at a dinner party. To be polite. But I would not select it deliberately from a list of nice alternatives.”
“Because you don’t like it.”
“Because slurping from a spoon is not ‘eating’. It’s drinking.”
“Not if there are chunks of things that must be chewed.”
“The soup here doesn’t have chunks of things that must be chewed. They call that stew. Not soup.”
“You’re very particular for a person who’s concerned with manliness.”
“Are you disparaging my masculinity?” He said with mock astonishment. “We’ve barely met.”
I was shaking my head when Molly returned.
“He’s having bangers and mash,” I said. “I’m having fish and chips.” She nodded and started away, but I added, “It’s good. Right?”
“It’s the best in the county.” She hurried away before I could question her further. “That’s good, right?” I said to Fie. “I mean, for all I know there might not be a single great place to get fish and chips. ‘It’s the best in the county’ isn’t necessarily a great review.”
“Do you always give so much attention to lunch?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
I sighed. “No, I… Uh. I’ve been dieting. Fish and chips is a cheat. It’s a cheat I might be willing to take for really great fish and chips. But if it’s mediocre, I’ll be sorry I wasted a big chunk of calorie allowance on something unremarkable.”
“Gods let me never incarnate as a woman.”
I nodded. “It’s an invocation you should repeat often. I guarantee you’d think long and hard about bangers and mash. And not for the reasons that made me say ‘ew’.”
He laughed.
We spent the rest of lunch talking about Hallow Hill, Cumbria, and the village’s level of dependency on tourism. He recommended a variety of local sightseeing trips in between cheerfully introducing me to locals who stopped by the table to meet the new kid in town. I knew there was no prayer I’d remember half their names. I had three big takeaways. First, if I moved to Hallow Hill, I would be close to great pub food. Second, it appeared that I was welcome. And, third, the unofficial ‘mayor’ was well-liked, witty, and good company, even if he was a banker.
By the number of people out and about I was getting the idea that Hallow Hill residents were late sleepers. Nothing wrong with that. I had a penchant for both laziness and sack time.
I strolled back toward the house, but when I arrived at the front door, I kept going. The next time somebody asked if I’d seen the mill wheel, I wanted to be able to say yes.
Five minutes later I was standing in a spot that looked like a fairy tale. The grass sloping down to the river was as green as Ireland. Or what I imagined grass in Ireland would look like. The river was pretty and still as glass, reflecting every color and light in the vicinity. No wonder it was the pride of the village. I had no trouble imagining myself frequently sitting on the bank of the river with a book, or a picnic lunc,h or a thermos of wine.
I lingered until the chill began to feel damp and then headed back up the hill.
CHAPTER THREE Jest and Jargon
After a short nap and an hour of changing my mind about what to wear, I stepped out the front door and locked up. Perhaps, if I stayed, I’d get used to going through the door that connected the shop and residence, but at present, it was an architectural intimacy I just wasn’t ready for.
I glanced at the garage after having the totally irrational thought that I should check on Romeo. Maybe raise the door a crack and say, “Hey. How you doing in there?”
I turned away, taking a stand, refusing to indulge in a moment of cray cray. The Romeo phenomenon simply meant that, when high tech begins to sound like a person and perform functions that only humans should be able to do… like drive, I’ve aged out of the times. The proof is in my impulse to want to look in on Romeo and make sure he’s not lonely or afraid of the dark.
I’d finally settled on a thick knit, red, pencil-shaped dress over boots that would probably earn a scowl from Thomasin Cobb,