“Sounds good,” Beard says, and lets go of Bruce.
Bruce stumbles back, holding his collar, looking back and forth between Mebel and Beard with wide eyes.
“I don’t like the look of that one,” Beard says to Mebel, gesturing at Bruce.
“Hey,” Bruce whines.
“I know what you mean,” Mebel says, “but actually he is not so bad.”
“Here’s my number,” Beard says, handing Mebel a business card. “You let me know when you cook them soupe à l’oignon.” The French words roll out of his mouth with shocking grace and smoothness. “That’s my favorite, that is. See you later then.”
“Goodbye,” Mebel says. She tucks the business card safely into her purse, then turns to Bruce and the others, who, with the exception of Gemma, are staring at her with wide, somewhat scared eyes.
“How do you know those guys?” Gemma says. “They looked like really…well, very interesting.”
“Townies,” Bruce says.
“Townies?” Mebel says. “What is that mean?”
“In Oxford, the population is divided into two groups,” Bruce explains. “The students and the townsfolk, also known as ‘townies.’ Townies are generally a tough crowd.”
“We are not townies?” Mebel says.
Bruce groans. “No, Mebel, we’re students. We’re literally enrolled in a school.”
“Yes, but we are not in Oxford University student, are we?”Mebel says. “The requirement to get into Saint Honoré School of Culinary Arts very different from the ones to get into Oxford University.”
“Marginally,” Bruce says with confidence. “I bet it’s not that different, honestly.”
“All they ask from me was name and credit card details,” Mebel says flatly.
“All right, maybe the requirements are slightly different. I’m just saying, we are definitely not townies.”
Mebel gives a vague shrug. It’s not that she doesn’t see the difference between the students and the “townies,” but this is the exact sort of thing that would’ve bothered Henk. He had always been about labels. He would’ve also insisted that he’s a student and not a townie, and Mebel, as the dutiful trophy wife, would’ve followed suit accordingly. But now that Henk isn’t here, Mebel is realizing that maybe she doesn’t actually give a damn about such things. So what if some people see her as a student or a townie? She is a student and she does live in this town; therefore, she is both.
“Bruce has had too much to drink,” Bella mutters to Mebel. “He gets like this when he’s drunk. Lecturing everyone, telling us that he knows way more than we do.”
“Sound like fun,” Mebel says. She is beginning to think that perhaps she should’ve let Beard and Ears give him a good beating, after all.
“Anyway, that was so cool, what you did back there,” Gemma says, and her admiration sends a fierce wave of pride coursing through Mebel. When was the last time someone had been proud of her? Or rather, not proud of her but of something she did. Because plenty of people have been proud of who Mebel is;Henk used to be proud of how beautiful and polished she was, her parents used to be proud of how well behaved she was, and her friends were proud of being friends with an affluent person like her. But Mebel can’t, for the life of her, think of an instance when someone has been proud of something she’s done.
“Let us take you out to dinner tomorrow night to thank you for tonight, Mebel,” Gemma says.
“What?” Bruce whines. “But tomorrow we’re going to that posh new place in town. The French one that just opened, remember? My dad booked us a table there.”
“I’m sure we can fit one more in,” Bella says.
Mebel is about to tell them it’s okay when it hits her that a fancy new French restaurant is exactly what she needs to nourish her soul. It has been two weeks since she arrived in Cowley, England, and she is in dire need of a fine dining experience; otherwise, she is wont to go berserk. So she stands there smiling her bestI will make a fantastic dinner guestsmile.
“She did save your life,” Adam points out.
“Oh, fine.” Bruce looks Mebel up and down. “Dress nicely, Mebs.”
“Bruce, she is in head-to-toe Ferragamo,” Gemma whispers. She winks at Mebel.
Bruce has the decency to look abashed at this. “All right, well, tomorrow evening then.”
“See you in class tomorrow,” Mebel says, and traipses away with a huge grin on her face.
