Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Except for when it breaks down.”
“Except for when it breaks down,” he concedes, seeing the humor in my point.
“Do you ever walk into town?”
“No, but I have a bicycle I use a lot in the summer.”
I make a mental note to check where he keeps it. It’d be nice to know in case I’m in a pinch.
Last night, I was turned around in the dark, but I’ve been keeping careful watch on our drive this morning, and I realize it’s pretty much a straight shot to town once you leave the cottage and take a left. Ten minutes later, we’re on Main Street, a narrow one-lane road that cuts through the heart of Sedbergh. Though small, the historic market town is charming and packed full of old architecture. Most of the buildings are constructed from gray and brown stone, though there are a few Victorian and Tudor-inspired shopfronts sprinkled in.
A few pedestrians walk along the ancient-looking cobblestone sidewalk, and Nate slows the car, not wanting to unintentionally spray anyone with snow. We pass The Green Door Sweet Shop with its sign: Tobacconist, Greeting Cards, Toys, Maps. A few restaurants are open for the late lunch crowd: Smatt’s Duo Cafe, Al Forno Italian Kitchen, The Dalesman Country Inn, and The Red Lion Pub.
I’m surprised. The way Nate was going on about everything, I thought Sedbergh would be a total ghost town. We pass a local book shop, and then another. I turn back in disbelief. How can a town this small keep one bookstore in business, much less two? I’m still wondering when we come across a third.
“There are so many bookstores,” I say, my voice filled with wonder.
Nate nods. “Sedbergh is England’s official ‘Book Town.’”
I lean toward the window, curious. “What does that mean? What’s a Book Town?”
Sounds like my dream place to live honestly.
“They’re small rural places—like Sedbergh—where secondhand and antiquarian bookshops are concentrated. Last I checked, we have five official bookstores, but most shops on Main Street have a section of secondhand books for sale, even the pharmacy. On top of that, there are annual literary festivals too. It brings in a lot of tourists in late spring and summer.”
My jaw is on the floor. “That’s amazing. What a cool place!”
Nate nods in agreement then points down at my phone on my lap. “You should have cell service now.”
“Right. Of course.”
I fire off the drafted email to Joy, my supervisor, first, giving her an update about Crown House and my temporary living situation. Pressing send gives me a little zing of excitement. I’m sure she’ll be shocked that Nate is willing to work with me (at least for now). After hearing more of Nate’s side of things, I realize Joy likely thought I’d be on the first available flight back to New York, returning with my tail between my legs.
My family gets an email next, filled with all the pertinent information they might need about where I am (surprise!), and a lot of reassurances that I’m completely fine even if they have a hard time getting ahold of me. My parents have never been the type to check in daily, but they might worry since I’m so far from home. I include Nate’s address and directions for how to get there from Sedbergh just to put everyone’s mind at ease.
Then just as Nate swings into a parking spot outside a small grocery store, I reopen the text I was working on for Andrew.
Summer: Hey, sorry to be texting you randomly. I know we’re not really talking right now and I respect that. I hope things are going well for you. I just wanted to let you know that work has taken me to England. I’m staying in a tiny town called Sedbergh. It’s an exciting opportunity, but cell service is horrible and I
That’s where I left off before because I’m not sure how I’m supposed to end a text message to a man who isn’t currently my boyfriend but could be my boyfriend again in the near future.
Nate cuts the engine and looks over to find me staring down at my phone screen like I’m trying to work out a complicated math equation. I drop my phone into my lap and sigh.
We look at each other and then simultaneously look away. It’s hard to sit here together in such a confined space.
“I can’t find the right words,” I volunteer.
He nods, already grabbing for his door handle. “I’ll give you a second. I need to head down to a shop a little that way. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done.”
I watch him get out of the car and close the door. He heads up onto the sidewalk, walking confidently. He has long legs and a good butt. His jeans fit him perfectly. These…these wonderful thoughts flit across my mind instead of what the hell I’m going to send to Andrew!