Page 74 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘But the history, John,’ implored floral-fleece. ‘Think of the lost historical value. I’m sure you know Emily is campaigning to have it turned over to the Historical Society.’
‘Trust me, I know,’ said John. ‘Unfortunately, neither me nor my aunt have the money for that kind of philanthropy. We can’t afford to just give it away. Believe me, I’ve tried every way I can think of to find a solution that suits everybody, but the simple fact of the matter is, the land is worth more without Saltwater Nook than with it.’
‘What about the local value then?’ asked Cynthia. ‘Annie’s made the place a part of the community again. That’s got to be worth something?’
‘Aye, it is. But it’s not worth more than my aunt’s safety and comfort.’
‘What do the local council say about building down here?’ asked all-weather-flip-flops.
‘I’ve already got planning permission. I’ve gone through all the proper channels. I love Saltwater Nook. You know I do. I practically grew up here. But nostalgia doesn’t pay the bills.’
‘We’ll be sorry to see it go,’ said Cynthia. ‘We’ll be sorry to lose The Saltwater Cafe too.’
‘You’ve got a few months of me yet,’ said Annie.
‘I’ll drink to that!’ said Malory, lifting her hazelnut latte.
‘Perhaps you can change his mind?’ said floral-fleece, conspiratorially, as though John wasn’t standing right next to her.
‘I’m not sure he’s very flexible,’ said Annie. ‘I think John is probably used to getting his own way.’
‘Is that what you think?’ John chuckled darkly. There was a glint in his eye that could have been chagrin or humour. ‘You feel you know me well enough to make those kinds of judgements, do you, Ms Sharpe?’
Annie didn’t know if they were playing or fighting; there seemed to be a fine line between the two. And yet, there was something about disagreeing with John Granger which she found most enjoyable; his lack of sugar-coating was refreshingly sharp.
‘No,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’ve just met men like you before.’
‘Men like me indeed! How many menlike mehave you met, exactly?’
Annie laughed then.
‘Truth be told, not that many actually.’
‘Still an enigma then,’ he smiled.
‘Yes,’ said Annie, looking at him quizzically. His eyes were more blue than grey in this light, with a ring around the iris of a dark green that matched the colour of the sea outside. ‘I can’t make you out at all.’
‘Good,’ he said.
When Annie turned the sign over on the door and pulled the shutters closed on the kiosk, the only sounds left to hide behind were the whoosh of the dishwasher and Enya’s haunting Celtic melodies playing on Spotify. She had grown increasingly comfortable in John’s presence over the course of the afternoon but now they were alone she felt suddenly self-conscious.
‘Well,’ John exclaimed, pulling his hand through his hair as he surveyed the aftermath of the busy cafe on every table and surface, inside and out. ‘I guess it would be rude to leave you with all this to clear up.’
Annie laughed.
‘This is nothing I’m not used to.’
‘But today you have a willing servant, so you might as well make use of me,’ he smiled.
Annie felt her cheeks redden at the idea but recovered herself quickly.
‘Even though you wish I’d never opened the cafe?’
‘Even though.’ John smiled and then said, ‘I’m willing to call a truce. Just for today. In honour of All Hallows’ Eve and the spirits that lurk about these shores in the dark.’
John crossed the cafe to where Annie stood by the door. He held out his hand.
‘I’m opening the cafe tonight, as in open for business as well as for dishing out sweets. Does that affect the truce?’ Annie asked.
