Sarah had spent the bulk of the two-hour drive entertaining herself with fun facts about Montecito that she gleaned from her phone. How she could look at that tiny screen and be in a car at the same time perplexed Abigail. She could get car sick changing the radio. But not Sarah, who stayed glued to her device, shouting out facts periodically. The town of Montecito is an unincorporated area in Santa Barbara County. It’s not exactly part of the city of Santa Barbara, but the two towns share resources like schools. It’s home to ten thousand or so people, from billionaires to immigrants, retirees to ranchers, royals to movie stars. Dogs are pampered, horses are welcome, and beware the coyotes. The area has survived drought, fires, and a terrible mud and rain event in 2018 that killed dozens. The ocean is on one side, the mountains on the other. But everyone agrees, there’s no place better.

Sarah continued to shout out the facts, now at a more rapid pace: There is a nearby zoo and botanical gardens! The Mission was founded about the same time as the American Revolution! Julia Child was a treasured resident! The details got smaller and smaller as the car got closer and closer. Best tacos are at East Beach! Lotusland is open to the public! Full Moon Soundbath! Finally, as the Lexus pulled through the gates of Nottingham Forest, an elite enclave for golfers and the people who loved them, Sarah announced, “Wow, the Zestimate on the house we’re going to is almost six million dollars!”

As the car turned onto the final street, Abigail marveled at the number. “Six million dollars! Does it even have a view of the ocean? It has a view of . . . a cul-de-sac.”

But she knew she’d take Ming’s house in a second over any golf course–adjacent condo that she and George could afford in South Carolina.

Sarah buzzed down the car window and stuck her head out to feel the breeze, then popped back in to declare, “This place is awesome.”

When the car pulled up to Ming’s house, Sarah’s head was back out the window, taking in the exquisite surroundings of Nottingham Forest. Abigail collected herself before exiting the black Lexus sedan and urged Sarah to do the same. “First impressions, dear.”

Sarah popped out of the car, jumped up and down to loosen her limbs and take in a deep breath of the rosemary and lavender–tinged air, the scent of the Mediterranean that defined the Montecito landscape. Abigail got out more slowly and smoothed her clothes, also breathing deeply as she took in her surroundings. Ming’s garden was a masterpiece of native plants, thanks to a talented designer and her team of landscapers. As a gardener, Abigail approved. But as the mother of the groom, she had one thought: I can’t compete.

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