My Not So Perfect Life(83)

Eventually Biddy goes back inside, and Alex puts down the scone. “I cannot eat all this,” he says. “Sorry. It’s just not happening. I had breakfast on the road about, what, an hour ago?”

“Don’t worry.” I laugh. “Biddy just wanted to make you welcome.”

“And ‘welcome’ would be Somerset slang for ‘a coronary patient’?” Alex eyes the dish of clotted cream and I laugh again.

“Seriously, you do have to try her lemon drizzle cake. It’s amazing.”

“I will.” Alex’s expression turns sober. “But not now.” He wraps up the lemon drizzle cake in a napkin, then puts his hands flat on the table. “Enough procrastinating. I need to do this. Do you know where Demeter is?”

My stomach lurches. Don’t give away anything.

“Let Biddy show you your room first,” I say easily. “Please. It won’t take long. She’s so excited to have you. Actually…” I hesitate. “You’re our first B&B guest.”

“Really?” Alex looks surprised. “I thought this was an up-and-running business.”

“It is. The glamping is. But the B&B’s new, and Biddy’s quite nervous….”

“Well, I hate to disappoint her.” Alex takes a sip of coffee. “But I probably won’t even use my room.”

“You’re not staying the night?” I try not to sound crestfallen. Because obviously I’m not crestfallen.

“I only booked a room in case things took longer than expected. I’ll pay, of course,” Alex adds quickly. “But staying isn’t the plan. I don’t want to prolong this any more than I have to.”



“Will you still give us a good review on TripAdvisor?” I blurt out before I can stop myself, and Alex laughs.

“Absolutely. Ten stars.”

I smile back. “It only goes up to five.”

“Five and a half, then.” He drains his cup of coffee, then looks at me quizzically, as though greeting me for the first time. “So, Katie Brenner. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” I say lightly. “Unemployed, mostly.” He winces, and I add, “No, it’s been fine. Really. It’s been good. I’ve helped my dad start this place up. And Biddy. She’s my stepmum,” I explain.

“You started this from scratch?” He sweeps his arm around.

“Yes.”

“Just the three of you?”

I nod, and Alex picks up the Ansters Farm brochure, which Biddy has helpfully left on the tray. He studies it for a minute, then raises his head. “You know something? I saw this earlier, and I thought: This looks like a piece of Demeter’s work. You’ve learned from her, clearly. Congratulations.”

I feel an inner whoop but simply reply, “Thanks. Oh, and by the way…please can you not mention that you know me to Dad or Biddy?”

“Oh?” Alex seems taken aback.

“It’s…complicated. They don’t know that I know Demeter either. It’s—” I stop dead. “Anyway.”

“Fine,” says Alex after a pause. He sounds confused and even a bit offended, but too bad. I can’t go into it all. Anyway, he probably won’t even hang around long enough to talk to Biddy again, let alone Dad.



I pour him another cup of coffee, and he lifts a hand.

“No, I really have to go.” But then he takes a pensive sip. (Something I’ve learned here: Sixty percent of people who say “no thanks” to more coffee then drink two more cups.) For a while there’s silence except for the sound of children’s laughter drifting over the breeze. I think the kids are with Dad this morning, doing something with scarecrows. After that, they’ll go boating on Fisher’s Lake. They do have a good time here, you can’t argue with that.

I’m feeling a tad awkward and wondering what to say next, when Alex breaks the quiet. “You know, I thought a lot about what you said, your last day at Cooper Clemmow. It got to me. I had a sleepless night or two. I nearly called you up.”

He what?

I’m utterly taken aback. Playing for time, I look away, fidgeting with a spoon. I want to ask him: What are you talking about exactly? What did you want to say? Why did you have sleepless nights? But at the same time, I don’t want to go there. It was all too mortifying.

“Right.” I make the mistake of raising my eyes, and he’s looking right at me with that dark gaze of his.

“Look at you,” he says softly, and I feel a fresh lurch in my stomach. What does that mean? And why is he looking at me like that? Oh God…

OK, full disclosure: The whole not-getting-flustered strategy has bombed. I don’t even know what’s doing it. His eyes? His voice? Just…him?



“Anyway,” I say in a businesslike way. “I’m sorry, but I just have to go and…do a thing.”

“Of course.” Alex seems to come to, and the light in his eyes fades. “You must be very busy. Sorry to have kept you.” He puts down his coffee cup. “Well, here goes. Any idea where Demeter is? Your dad thought she was with you.”

“Demeter?” I say, with a careless shrug. “Sorry, no idea. But I’m sure she’s around somewhere. If I see her, I’ll point her in your direction.”