Page 87 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘She loves it there. If it wasn’t for this place, I don’t think she’d look back. She’s under the Saltwater Nook spell, like every other bugger in this village.’
‘And you’re not?’
‘My aunt is holding out for a buyer who doesn’t exist; someone who will love this place like she does. But nobody could love it like she does! It’s old, it’s tiny, most potential buyers would be wanting to extend it by double at the very least, and that’s reflected in the price they’re willing to pay for it. Better to sell it as a blank canvas with planning permission.’
Annie walked over to him and laid her hand on his arm.
‘I don’t think you want to sell it to a developer,’ she said gently.
John sighed again and she realised he looked tired.
‘It’s not about me. The plain fact is, if she sells, I can get them both carers, her and her friend, twice a day; live-in carers even, when the time comes. Meals delivered, shopping delivered, cleaners...If she sells, I can give her every comfort for however many years she’s got left. She looked after me when I needed it, all I’m trying to do is return the favour. It’s my inheritance anyway; she’s leaving the place to me. And my decision is that the money is used to make her life comfortable.’
‘What if there is someone who loves it as much as your aunt does?’
John looked at her.
‘Annie, I don’t doubt your motives, but love doesn’t pay the bills.’
Annie bit her lip.That’s for damn sure!
‘No,’ she said. ‘But cold hard cash does.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Have you actually signed anything? I mean, could you hold your buyer off for a few months?’
‘He knew I was honouring Mari’s commitment to let you stay until Easter. Why?’
‘I own half my restaurant business. I also own half the building and my house. I’m in the process of trying to get my husband to buy me out. I don’t know what price you’ve agreed with your builder friend, but I want to throw my hat into the ring.’
John was looking at her with an even bigger frown than usual.
‘Are you serious?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Annie. ‘I want to buy Saltwater Nook.’
She hadn’t expected to blurt it out like that. In truth, it had been a half-formulatedwhat ifrumbling around in her head for a while; one of those idle daydreams that recur when you’re washing up, or showering, or watching the sea...Now she thought about it, this idle thought had been on a permanent loop.
John sat staring at her, his mouth slightly open as if wanting to say something but the words were not forthcoming. Annie was getting to know his face, the myriad of tiny adjustments that made up his expressions: the twitch at the corners of his mouth which could mean stifled amusement or mischief, depending on the glint in his eyes and the crinkles at their edges, which became deep creases when he was incredulous – as he was now. The lines in his forehead formed ridges when he frowned in annoyance and his eyebrows would meet in the middle for chagrin or work independently of one another when he was being cocky or self-righteous, one brow raising itself into a questioning arch. These little facial clues expressed the things his mouth didn’t say and very often belied his words altogether. John Granger called himself a realist but Annie knew he loved Saltwater Nook every bit as much as his aunt. If ever there was a man looking for a reason not to sell to builders, it was him.
‘I’ll need to think about it,’ he said finally, smoothing his face to a blank.
‘Take your time.’
‘And I’ll need to make sure the numbers work.’
‘Absolutely. I’m not trying to put you out of pocket. I’m giving you the option to sell it as a going concern. But if I can’t offer what you need, I’ll stand down and you can sell to the developer. All I’m asking for is fair consideration.’
‘Right,’ said John. ‘Right.’
‘Can you get some numbers to me? And I’ll do some calculations my end, and then we’ll see where we are.’
‘Sure,’ said John. He had the look of a cartoon character seeing stars and Annie couldn’t blame him, she felt much the same.
Annie lay in bed that night wondering what on earth she was doing. At this point she didn’t have access to a single penny of her money and yet here she was making make-believe offers on a property in the arse end of nowhere. Is this what a mid-life crisis looked like?
She needed to get Max to agree to her terms. More immediately, she needed access to her bloody bank account. If she kept hitting the credit cards like this, she’d end up having to share the cave with Alfred! And there was another problem. She was becoming increasingly concerned about the prospect of Alfred spending winter outdoors. She found herself unable to drop off to sleep each night until she heard the familiar sound of him climbing into the cafe and knew that he was safe. And on the nights when he didn’t stay, she would sleep fitfully. It was like having teenagers all over again. She mentally added Alfred to her list of men to worry about.
