Page 98 of The Cinderella Arrangement

She left the room, and I nodded at Will from across the table. His eyes were bloodshot.

He sipped his mug. “This British coffee is weak shit,” he hissed.

“Will, you should really go for a nap. I can walk around by myself.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“What do you think about the food so far?”

Will nodded in a so-so manner. “She wins points for making and selling her own jam. And it’s pretty good.”

I spread some of the gooseberry jam over a fresh roll and I moaned at the explosion of flavor. “Wow, that is good.”

“Here it is!” Mary re-entered the solarium with a heavy plate of food for me. She dropped it in front of me.

“Uh—thanks!”

There was a pile of what looked like canned beans in a red sauce, fried tomato slices, strips of what looked like ham, and fried eggs. Will smirked at me from across the table and laughed when I tried some of the beans. On the whole, it was unremarkable.

“What is this?”

I forked the meat, which was thick and fatty.

He laughed. “It’s English bacon.”

I tried it. It was too thick and reminded me of ham. I set it aside and picked my way throughout the plate.

“I don’t like it,” I said in an undertone.

Will gave me an amused glance. “It’s a traditional dish. If you asked me, I would have told you to avoid it.”

I didn’t ask you. “It’s not too bad.” I shrugged.

After breakfast, Will and I left the cottage to explore the Cotswolds. We drove to Bourton-on-the-Water, where a wide, slow river ran through the whole town. Low-arched stone bridges added to the charm of the bustling village, which looked like something out of a Hollywood set. The little stone houses bordered the river.There was a market of vendors selling wool clothing. It was too cute to be real.

“God, I would kill myself if I lived here.”

“What did you expect? We’re in the country.”

I bought a Cornish pasty from a vendor on the street, which was delicious. It was filled with spiced meat and vegetables. Then we drove to a pair of villages called the Slaughters and parked the car. I wanted to walk around and get a feel for the place. I had never seen such beauty. The feeling of being sucked into a fairy-tale book was overwhelming. The stone cottages side by side, the quiet, little rivers woven through the village, the beautiful green trees and farm fields surrounded us. Everything was so moist. I couldn’t believe how quiet it was. It was strange to not hear the sounds of construction, of cars, of anything, really, except songbirds and the rustling of squirrels in trees. I had never been in such a place. I felt removed from civilization and I experienced a peace I never felt before.

We walked along the river, passing by people tending to their gardens, and came upon a mill next to a souvenir shop. Behind the shop was a path to the following village: Upper Slaughter.

Will walked beside me and I gave him a smile. I had to keep resisting the urge to pinch myself. How could this be real? The dirt path followed the river and on both sides were fields of grazing sheep. There was nothing but the sounds of our feet walking, the gentle river playing and the baaing of sheep. I stopped for a moment just to appreciate it and felt the strangest sensation as I looked over the fence to gaze at the sheep. It was like this quiet, sleepy village cast a spell on me.

“Getting ideas for designs?” he asked as he joined me on the fence.

“Yeah.” My brain was already freezing images in my head: the yellow stone cottages, the river, and the green fields. “I’ve never been to such a peaceful place.”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of boring.” He pushed himself off andthrew small rocks into the river, upsetting a white swan gliding downstream.

I rolled my eyes. Of course Will would find it boring. This was the opposite of his home in San Francisco, which was always bustling with noise and activity. It was hard to find peace and quiet in California, where the brown hills were slowly filling up with little boxes. I took pictures of everything so I could refer to them later.

He stood close to the river, and I was suddenly overcome with an urge to shove him into the water. I was angry about how he treated me, and it would be wonderful payback.

Let’s see how little rich-boy handles getting his feet wet.

I tiptoed silently. He still talked as if I stood far away. Excitement pounded through my rapidly beating heart as I raised my palms to his back and shoved.

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