I’m kind of hungry, I say after I see a few more houses.

Was hoping you’d say that. I have just the place for dinner.

Hope it’s not fancy because I’m not dressed the part. Or if it is, I could go change. You know what? I would like to change. Been in these clothes for too many hours.

He tells me where I can change—the bathroom of an inn close by—and I’m pleasantly surprised they treat me like I’m a paying customer and nobody’s giving me the stink eye. The woman at the front desk even compliments me on my outfit and wishes me a wonderful evening. I’ve changed into a black romper I had with me for my night out with David—ugh—put on a pair of flats and pulled my hair up in a bun. Glad for that lady’s nice words. Don’t entirely believe them, but this is a step up from my ripped jeans and Converse.

Where to? I text Max.

Mission Ranch Hotel and Restaurant. It’s on Dolores.

Right-o, I reply and make my way to the restaurant.

About to take a left turn, I spot a truly magnificent two-story house.

I send him a photo. You missed one. I thought Our House was my favorite, but I was wrong. This one! This one is it.

Describe it to me, he asks.

I’m usually good at describing things, but this perfect little cottage is just beyond words. How could you possibly not live a fairy-tale life here?

It still has the look and feel of a cottage, but it’s a bit taller, with a tiny balcony on the second floor—just big enough for two chairs—and white and blue flowers in pots, an arch above the front gate and tall walls protecting it from curious eyes, like mine.

I jump to see the yard. Behind it… there’s the ocean. The views you must have from here.

I can imagine myself watering the flowers every morning before having coffee on what I hope must be an ocean-facing terrace in the back. Feet up, no worries in the world, I add.

That’s Dolce Far Niente, he texts back. You have good taste.

When I arrive at the restaurant, the place is full. And it’s marvelous.

The hostess asks me for my name, then I see her looking in a big notebook.

“I don’t have a reservation,” I say, awkwardly smiling and wondering if this is the first stop on today’s incredible itinerary that won’t work out. All the tables are taken by sharply dressed men and women; couples, families. I definitely feel my romper—satin or not—is underwhelming for the occasion.

I look out the window and the view is breathtaking. A man explains to a woman, while they’re also waiting for a table, “That’s Point Lobos, and the Carmel River Beach.”

So that’s what I’ve been gawking at. I can also see the Pacific Ocean from where I am, and I suspect the views are equally amazing from everywhere in this fancy restaurant. The property itself seems to stretch for acres and acres, as far as you can see.