“Ah.” Flora inhaled deeply. “Whenever I’m here I dream about living in a book. I could be anyone I wanted. Travel anywhere. Explore a glorious garden or dive to the bottom of the ocean in search of sunken treasure.” She ran her fingers along the spine of a thick tome, its brown leather weathered gray and the gold lettering faded.
“I know what you mean,” I said, pulling out a small anthology of poetry. Its worn dark blue cover featured a drawing of a woman sitting under a tree, papers clasped to her breast. I leafed through the pages. “‘The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, and all the sweet serenity of books,’” I said, quoting Longfellow.
Flora smiled. “Exactly, my dear. Now, shall we go eat?”
I replaced the book and followed her into the pub. There wasn’t an empty stool at the polished wooden bar, and we made our way past booths filled with people enjoying their lunch. Flora waved at a red-haired waitress carrying a tray laden with plates of food. She brightened when she saw Flora.
“Hi, Flora. I think there’s a free table on the patio,” she said cheerfully and began unloading platters at a booth where four businessmen sat, sharing a pitcher of amber ale.
“Do we want to sit outside?” I asked Flora. “It’s a bit cool.”
“Their patio heaters are very efficient. Brian and I had dinner here just last week and it was lovely sitting out there.” She pushed open the door to go outside. “And it’s nice and sunny today.”
Flora was right. It wasn’t at all cold on the patio. Four tall heaters glowing orange cast their warm rays on the diners, keeping the temperature very comfortable. Several people had even removed their coats, and if I used my imagination, I could pretend we were eating outdoors in late summer. We sat down at the one empty table beneath a large chestnut tree whose branches were bare except for the occasional golden yellow leaf. As I hung my jacket on the back of the chair, the waitress brought us glasses of water and menus.
Flora moved the menu to the edge of the table. “Thanks, Kathleen, but I don’t need to see the menu. I’ll just have my usual.”
The waitress grinned, her green eyes twinkling. “Irish stew and soda bread?” When Flora nodded, Kathleen turned to me. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”
“I understand you make a great burger here,” I said, holding the menu but not opening it.
“Best in the Valley.”
“I’m celebrating, so I’ll take a cheeseburger with the works.” I handed the menu back to her and told Flora more about my phone calls with Kate and Calliope.
When the food arrived, the aromas were tantalizing. Flora’s stew was loaded with beef chunks, potatoes, and vegetables, all submerged in a thick gravy. The crust of the accompanying soda bread was a firm golden brown while the inside appeared dense and soft. “That looks and smells really good,” I said, eyeing her plate and wondering if I should have ordered the stew.
“So does your cheeseburger,” she replied and proceeded to butter a slice of her bread. “You won’t regret your choice.”
I didn’t. The burger was cooked just right and seasoned to perfection. It was topped with a slice of sharp cheddar and sautéed mushrooms and onions, and balanced with sweet slices of tomatoes and fresh leaves of lettuce. The fries on the side were thick, fresh cut, and crisp. I ate with gusto.
I was dipping my last fry into the dollop of mayonnaise on my plate when Flora smiled at someone near the door and raised her hand in greeting. “Yoo-hoo!” she called and then turned back to me. “Here’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Following her glance, I saw a tall, slim woman coming toward us carrying a leather overnight bag. Her dark hair was casually pulled back with a clip, and she wore jeans and a gorgeous, intricately knit cardigan. As she approached the table, Flora stood.
“Tilly! I didn’t know you were still in town.” She hugged the woman and then gestured in my direction. “This is Lila Wilkins, a wonderful agent in our firm. She’s just landed her first big deal. Lila, this is Tilly Smythe. She’s a client of mine and writes the most wonderful YA series about the adventures of an orphan boy trying to discover the identity of his parents. Her last two books hit the bestseller list, and we think the series could become as popular as Harry Potter.”
“Fingers crossed,” the woman said as she shook my hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Lila.” She glanced around the patio. “There aren’t any free tables anywhere in this restaurant. I thought I’d pop in for a quick lunch before catching the train back to Dunston, but—”
“Oh, join us, Tilly. We were just about to order dessert.” Flora had already grabbed an empty chair from a four-top table occupied by three diners.