“I had no idea,” I say.
“Are you guys on vacation?” Hope asks.
“Just a little weekend break to visit Felix’s inn. He needs a feminine touch, lest the whole thing be decorated in leather and stag horns.”
“I have not purchased a single stag horn,” I say.
“Wait, you have an inn?” Hope asks.
“I bought an old pub with rooms to fix up,” I say.
“Not a pub with rooms,” Pear says. “He bought a dilapidated country hotel in an old manor house that happens to have a pub. He’s renovating it into a hipster hotel.”
“It will not be a hipster hotel,” I clarify. “It will simply have an updated aesthetic. And a gastropub. Hopefully a good one.”
Hope beams at me. “I’m so happy for you. Are you living here?”
“Mostly. Going back and forth between here and London. I still have the pubs.”
“Too stubborn to let us sell them to Pizza Express, alas,” Prue says.
“Would you join us for lunch?” I ask Hope, praying she’ll say yes.
“Sure,” she says. “Let me just tell the waiter I’m moving tables.”
While she retrieves her wine and tracks down the server, Pear and Prue whisper instructions to me.
“We know you still like her,” Pear says.
“You’re inviting her over tonight,” Prue says. “We’ll make ourselves scarce.”
“Or take her on a walk along the seaside,” Pear suggests. “Do it after lunch so she can’t escape.”
“Ah, yes, much more pragmatic,” Prue says. “Do that. Andtheninvite her to yours.”
Before they can offer more unsolicited advice on courtship, Hope returns and takes the empty chair at our table.
“What did you order?” Prue asks.
“Crab sandwich,” Hope says. “I’m obsessed with the crab here.”
“Throw some in Felix’s hair,” Prue says. “Just like when you met.”
Hope laughs. “I think you can only get away with that once.”
“I don’t mind,” I say. “You have crab blanche.”
“What made you decide on Devon for the summer?” Pear asks.
“Well, I’m working on a book set in England, and I thought it might help to come here. Take in the vibe, get out of New York for a while. And a friend was able to get me a good deal on a flat here.”
“How brilliant,” Prue exclaims. “Tell us about your book.”
Hope explains the plot. It reminds me of the conversation we had when we parted. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
I wonder if she thinks about me while she works on it, the way I think of her when I picture my life at the inn.
The food arrives, and we all catch up as we eat. When the pudding has been cleared away, Pear looks at her phone.
