Page 56 of The Winter of Second Chances
In the awkward chaos which had brought the book club to an early close, Annie realised they hadn’t chosen a new book. She privately messaged Maeve first to let her know there was no need to call Mari, and then messaged the group with a suggestion ofLady Audley’s Secretby Mary Elizabeth Braddon. She had come across a copy in Mari’s bookcase and thought it would be nice – since they were all women – to read a Victorian novel written by a female author. Within moments her phone began to ping with responses.
Gemma:Are you sure you want to continue with it after last night? Is everything sorted with Mari?
Maeve:What are you talking about woman? Welcome to host at mine if you feel awkward having it at the Nook.
Sally:Best damn book club I’ve ever been to! Love this book suggestion. Read it at uni for a module on Victorian female writers; scandalous...though not as scandalous as our book club.
Annie:I have absolutely no problem hosting at the Nook. Spoke to Mari. All good. She encouraged us to continue. John Granger can kiss my arse!
Sally:What about plastic John?
Annie:He’s not called John anymore.
Gemma:What’s he called now?
Annie:Mr Knightley.
Gemma:FromEmma?
Annie:Correct.
Maeve:So, you like them grumpy then, hey?
Annie:Not grumpy. Honourable.
Sally:But not too honourable, right?
Annie:
Gemma:Can you describe a dildo as honourable?
Maeve:Can we get back to the book club?
Gemma:It’s a yes from me.
Sally:Me too.
Maeve:Then we’re agreed. Good choice, Annie.
At half past two Annie was about to close the kiosk for the day when a shadow fell across the opening, blocking out all of the light. Annie had her back turned, washing up the milk jugs.
‘You’re in luck,’ she called. ‘I was just about to close up. But I’ll make an exception.’ She turned, smiling, to greet her last-minute customer and came face to face with John Granger. His expression was thunderous.
‘I came here to apologise for the way I handled last night, only to find you abusing my aunt’s hospitality again!’ he said. His thick Scottish accent was laced with anger and the depth of his voice seemed to bounce around the small kiosk.
Annie felt her chagrin rise. She would not be cowed by such a disagreeable man. She wiped her hands dry on her apron and squared up to him.
‘Firstly,’ she began, her shoulders pulled back and her chin jutting out in indignation, ‘I have your aunt’s full blessing to open the kiosk whenever I like. Secondly, I have put money in the kitty towards the stock I initially used, and since then I have paid for all the coffee beans, milks and sundries myself. And thirdly, I don’t know what impression you are under but I amnothere under your aunt’shospitality! I am liable for all bills and utilities and am employed to oversee and maintain Saltwater Nook until such time as Mari decides to return.’
John Granger rocked back on his heels looking contrite. He blew out a breath.
‘I’m sorry. Can we start again?’ he asked, posting his hand in through the kiosk. ‘I’m John Granger. Not nearly as grumpy as I seem. It appears my aunt has been omitting to tell me the arrangements the two of you have made. You’ve taken me by surprise – twice. That doesn’t happen very often.’
Annie shook the proffered hand gingerly.
‘It’s not often that I’m described assurprising, so we’re both treading new ground,’ she said, allowing him a small smile. She wasn’t sure of him yet.
‘Do you even know how to use that thing?’ he asked, pointing to the coffee machine.
