A Season for Second Chances(30)

It wasn’t a fancy room, but Annie figured that with the shutters thrown open and the windows looking out onto the ocean beyond, it didn’t need to be fancy. She imagined cold, blustery weather outside and the warm scent of coffee within. She looked toward the dozens of newly cleaned empty shelves and pictured them filled with bags of coffee and stacked cups and Kilner jars of homemade granola and cookies.

Stop it! she said to herself. This is a temporary stop, nothing more! By March, it’ll either be a museum or a pile of rubble. But the thoughts kept coming, almost as though the space were whispering its possibilities in her ear.

The rain had finally stopped, and Annie decided the place could use some fresh air. She let herself out of the tearoom via the door at the far end and walked around the outside of the house to the kiosk. On a separate fob, clearly marked, were the keys to the padlocks securing the shutters. Annie pocketed the padlock and pulled back the peeling wooden shutters to the kiosk, fastening them back on the hooks on either side of the wall. Then she locked herself back inside the tearoom and flung open the kiosk windows. The wind blew in cold and fresh and the building seemed to breathe in response, as though waking up from a sleep.

Annie ran her gaze over the coffee machine and switched it on, just to see. The machine whirred satisfyingly into life, and Annie busied herself looking for the bags of coffee Mari said she had left.

“Are you open?”

Annie jumped up from beneath the counter to find a man and woman, about her age, looking in at her.

“Oh,” said Annie. “Um. Yes. Yes, why not!”

“Oh, fantastic!” said the woman. “I’ll have a mocha and, Aiden?” She turned her rosy makeup-free face up to meet his. “Latte?” she asked.

The man smiled at her. “Lovely,” he said.

“Right you are,” said Annie. She’d found the unopened bag of coffee beans and a tub of hot chocolate, but milk was going to be an issue. In the corner by the marshmallows, she spotted a multipack of long-life barista oat milks.

“I don’t have any fresh milk at the moment,” said Annie. “How do you feel about oat milk?”

“Fine with us,” said Aiden. “Our daughter is dairy intolerant, so we’re no stranger to the crazy milks!”

“You must be Annie,” said the woman. “I’m Raye and this is Aiden. Pam’s told us all about you. We’re the landlords of the Captain’s Bounty.”

“I hope you’ll be visiting us soon,” said Aiden jovially. “We’ll be jealous if you don’t!”

“Actually, I’m coming for dinner on Saturday,” said Annie.

“Oh, fabulous!” said Raye. “You must leave room for Aiden’s tiramisu; it really is something.”

Aiden and Raye looked more like they should be reading runes and selling dream-catchers than running a pub. Raye wore her sandy hair in long dreadlocks and her green Dr. Martens boots peeped out from beneath her striped Alibaba trousers. Aiden’s pale skin was striking against a backdrop of dark brown corkscrew curly hair—Annie wondered if their heads stuck together like Velcro in bed—and he was dressed in faded black skinny jeans and a rainbow Baja hoodie. They could have come straight from the Glastonbury Festival.

Annie tipped the beans into the grinder, answering questions over the subsequent noise about where she’d come from and what had brought her here.

“Crikey!” said Raye. “I hope our homespun pub grub won’t be too much of a come-down. Pam didn’t mention you were a chef.”

“If the smell of your Sunday roast is anything to go by, I should be in for a treat,” said Annie as she riffled around for cardboard takeaway cups and rinsed the metal milk jug out.

“Will you be open all season?” Raye asked.

“I didn’t know I was going to be open now.” Annie laughed. “You might be my first and only customers!”

“Oh, I wish you would!” said Raye. “It would be great to be able to get a decent coffee after a wintry walk. We come down here to blow the cobwebs away between opening times.”

Annie well knew those precious snatched hours between the end of lunch service and the beginning of dinner.

“Don’t bully the poor woman!” said Aiden. “She’s only just moved in.”

“I’m not bullying her,” said Raye. “I’m just saying there’s a lot of people who would appreciate being able to grab a coffee down here.”

“Do you think so?” asked Annie.

“Oh God, yes!” said Raye. “It’s all very well catering for the out-of-towners all summer, but what about the people who live by the sea all year round?”

“Don’t get her started,” said Aiden.

“I mean it,” said Raye. “Go to any seaside town past September, and it’s tumbleweed city; everything’s boarded up, like a zombie apocalypse.”

“I told you not to get her started,” said Aiden.

Annie laughed and handed over the coffees.

“We’ll you’ve given me something to think about,” said Annie. “That’s six pounds, please.” She had no idea of Mari’s pricing structure, so she used the one from the restaurant.

Raye handed over the cash and Annie was grateful for it; if there was a card machine in the place, it was well hidden.