Free The Importance of Being Alice by Katie MacAlister

orderly manner. They always seemed to tumble out of my mouth and flop into an ungainly heap.
    â€œIn what manner?” he asked, his eyebrows rising in question.
    â€œThe kind that says you don’t go out to dinner to have fun. That’s it, isn’t it?” I narrowed my gaze on him. He made a face that confirmed my suspicion. “What do you do to have fun? Wait, don’t answer that!” I looked at my phone. The ten minutes were almost up.
    â€œI have no intention of doing so.”
    â€œYou can tell me later, over dinner. Shall we say seven? I’ll meet you on the dock. Later, alligator!” I tucked my tour book into the small cross-body bag thatheld my various necessities, and dashed out of the cabin. The hall was blissfully empty of Deidres.
    My spirits felt as ebullient as a cloud. For the first time in two weeks, I felt happy. Perhaps time spent with my new roommate wasn’t going to be a chore afterall.

Chapter 4
    Expense Account
    Item one: fifteen euros
    Remarks: Hookah. I have no memory of this purchase.
    â€œT his day,” Elliott said to a gull that sat on the railing of the cabin’s minuscule deck and pecked in a desultory manner at a bit of bread it had scavenged up somewhere, “is one of the longest I’ve ever known. It should most definitely be seven o’clock by now, shouldn’t it?”
    The words spoken aloud shocked him into adding, “Not that I am looking forward to dinner with Alice, mind you. It’s just that I’ve been in the cabin all day, and I’ve written the amount I set myself to write, and then some, and now I am hungry and thirsty and could do with a break. That’s all very reasonable, isn’t it, gull? It’s not as if I’ve been wishing I could have gone with the others to see the windmills. I’ve seen windmills. Onceyou’ve seen four or five, you’re really at the limit of windmill appreciation, and nothing further can be served by seeing more.”
    Except the fact that a little fresh air and exercise is good for the creative processes. And he might have been able to explain to Alice any signs that were in Dutch.
    Guilt twinged at him when he thought of her. “I don’t fancy her,” he said, sitting down in a wobbly plastic chair and putting his feet up on the rusted railing. The gull, not in the least bit frightened of him, hopped along the railing to peck hopefully at his shoes. “Oh, she’s nice enough to look at. More than nice enough, quite pleasant, as a matter of fact. No, it’s not that I couldn’t fancy her given half the chance, but she’s so . . .” He waved a hand in the air. The gull cocked his head and watched him, clearly expecting treats. “. . . so spontaneous. You didn’t see, but she just asked me out to dinner as if I’d been hoping for it. Which I haven’t. Hell, she was Patrick’s girl! I’d never poach on a friend’s girl. Although Patrick made it quite clear that he’s done with her, so if I wanted to, it would be within my rights to do so.”
    He fell silent, absently watching the gull nibble on one shoelace. Why was he there, at that moment? Why hadn’t he gone back home once he found the cabin was occupied? Why had he accepted Alice’s dinner invitation when he had every intention of keeping her at arm’s length?
    Dammit, he didn’t need a woman complicating his life, and he certainly didn’t need a spontaneous, erratic woman who evidently acted on every whim, and who took so much joy in simple things.
    â€œShe’s never been abroad,” he informed the gull, who attempted to consume his shoelace despite the fact that it was attached to his shoe. “Look how excited she gotabout seeing a bunch of windmills—poor woman is desperate to soak up all the local color, and she’s stuck with this motley group. I could have gone with them, could have