Page 93 of The Winter of Second Chances
Maeve:Poppycock! We’re not doing it without you. All for one and one for all and all that!
Annie:Same. Pass my love on to Susan. Hope you don’t catch it!
Gemma slipped her phone back under the counter. She liked to keep it handy in case there was any kind of emergency at school with the children.
‘Oh well, that’s a shame,’ said Gemma.
‘Yes. Although to be honest, I hadn’t quite finished it yet anyway. I was going to have to google the end of the plot.’
‘Cheat,’ said Gemma. ‘You’ll just have tofinallygive me the details of your tryst with John instead. I have very little excitement in my life and with no book club to look forward to I need some drama to keep me going.’
‘I keep telling you, it wasn’t a tryst! Who even uses that word anyway?’
‘I do! My husband is away a lot, I read a lot of romantic fiction. Trysts are a prominent feature.’
‘We were probably just on a sugar high from all the marshmallows.’
‘But you did dirty dancing.’
‘It was hardly dirty dancing.’ Annie’s stomach thrilled at the remembrance of John kissing her throat. ‘Well, all right, maybe it was a little bit dirty dancing.’ She had suddenly come over rather warm.
Gemma punched the air.
‘I knew it!’
‘It can’t come to anything,’ said Annie. ‘It’s just not practical, for either of us.’
Gemma pouted but didn’t push it.
John had had some design consultations in London and had spent the last week at his place in Clapham. It seemed John was as incapable of taking a step back workwise as she was. Their messaging had taken on a much flirtier tone in his absence. But Annie hadn’t just spent her time thinking up peppy repartee – not all of it at any rate. She had been doing her financial homework and number crunching, in readiness for John’s return.
Annie had anticipated that the developer’s offer for the land would far exceed what she could reasonably offer, but she wasn’t disheartened. She had something that the developer couldn’t offer: she had the expertise and drive to save Saltwater Nook and all the happy memories it contained for John and his aunt.
After a consultation with her solicitor – which resulted in a reasonably threatening letter being sent to Max with regards to his withholding her money – Annie arranged a meeting with her financial adviser and they worked out roughly what settlement she could expect, according to The Pomegranate Seed’s last year figures and her halves of the properties she owned with Max. Annie had always kept her eye on the fluctuating market of the hospitality industry, and she knew how much a small business like Saltwater Nook was worth. A local estate agent had given her a valuation for the building as a whole and Annie had put together an offer accordingly. She’d written it down on a piece of paper and it had been burning a hole in her pocket ever since.
The swimmers had just left, having taken their dip early on account of the forecast looking choppy for later. All-weather flip-flops had cleaned out Annie’s supply of tiffin bars for when her grandchildren visited later. There were no other customers at present and by the looks of the empty promenade in both directions, there wouldn’t be any more for at least twenty minutes. Annie picked up a basket and rested the handle over her forearm.
‘Right, I’m going to collect some stones. You’re in charge.’
Gemma gulped dramatically and Annie laughed.
‘Call me if you need help.’
‘No problem,’ said Gemma brightly. ‘I want to crack on with getting the sauces and honeys on the back shelf.’
Annie smiled. Gemma was an absolute godsend, well worth maxing out her credit card to pay her wages; she had already transformed the shelving into delightfully chaotic deli displays that drew the eye and encouraged lots of browsing and, ultimately, buying. Annie was going to have to up her orders from her local providers and was already searching for new lines to add to her artisan foods collection. She wondered idly how many credit cards one person was allowed before some higher authority stepped in.
The swimmers were right to have come early: the sky was baby blue with powder-puff clouds but glowering around the cliff edges the clouds were like wire-wool, casting dark shadows over the sea. Annie drank in the cold air and revelled in the chill after the heat of the cafe. She wandered along the beach, scooping to pick up pebbles to her specifications: smooth, oval or roundish, about the size to comfortably fit her palm.
A voice shouted, ‘Don’t you know it’s illegal to steal pebbles from the beach?’
Annie jumped, dropping the pebble she’d been studying. It was John, just rounding the cove. Annie’s heart leaped in her chest at the sight of him.
‘You’re back!’ She tried and failed to wipe the delighted smile off her face.
‘I am indeed,’ John grinned back at her, as he tramped up the beach towards her.
‘Where did you spring from?’ she called back.
