A Season for Second Chances(49)

He turned to leave, wrenching the door open. The wind caught it, slamming it hard against the wall. The rain blew in in horizontal shards of water. John turned back to face Annie; the light from the room lit the rain behind him so that it looked like shooting stars.

“I want you off this property by close of business tomorrow,” he snarled. And with that passing shot, he yanked the door closed behind him, the force of it blowing out two of the candles.

Gemma opened another bottle of wine and poured a glass for Annie. Annie took a gulp and then another.

“I can’t believe it. I’ve just been evicted!”

“Nobody’s evicting anybody,” said Maeve.

“You heard what he said,” said Annie. “He wants me out by tomorrow.”

“John doesn’t own Saltwater Nook, nor did he give you the job to be guardian of the place,” said Maeve reassuringly. “The only person who can evict you is Mari.”

“Absolutely,” chimed in Gemma. “And Mari is a very reasonable woman. I’m sure she wouldn’t dream of evicting you over such a silly misunderstanding.”

Annie didn’t feel reassured.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Sally soothed. “I think it’s important to keep it in perspective. A man was frightened when faced with four women in touch with their sexuality, and his discomfort manifested itself as anger.”

“I’ll talk to Mari in the morning,” said Maeve. “You’re not going anywhere.”





Chapter 38



Annie woke the next morning with a knot in her stomach. The thought of having to leave Saltwater Nook left her cold. She hadn’t had enough time; she’d barely begun, plus her credit card had taken a bit of beating getting the place ready to open.

She couldn’t imagine not being here: Not waking up every morning beside the fickle North Sea. Not flinging open the shutters on the kiosk to reveal the familiar, eager faces, and not discussing the weather as the coffee machine limbered up for another day’s work.

She lay with the comforting weight of a snoring Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle on her feet and the khaki of an October morning staining the curtains. The rain scratched against the window panes like it wanted to be let in. She had heard the now-familiar noise of shutters being adjusted and closed as Alfred let himself out; would her successor look out for him, she wondered? Annie decided she needed to speak to Mari herself. She would not let another egomaniac man bulldoze her life.

Mari answered on the second ring.

“Well, bless my soul,” she declared. “I am popular today. I’ve just had John on the phone.”

What a telltale tit, Annie thought, snorting inwardly.

“So, you know about last night,” said Annie. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds . . .”

“Quite a cackling coven you’d instigated by the sounds of it.”

To Annie’s surprise, Mari sounded amused.

“It was the book club,” said Annie. “There were some . . . high jinks.”

“John was reluctant to go into detail, but he used the words sordid and sex aid; are these the high jinks to which you are referring?”

Annie almost laughed but swallowed hard to quash it. She decided it was best to just come right out and say it.

“It was a bit of a joke,” Annie began. “At last week’s book club, we’d been discussing my recent singledom, and the other members thought it would be a fun idea to get me a, er . . .” Annie stumbled. Was she really going to use the word dildo to a nonagenarian? “An, um, synthetic penis,” she finished, remembering Gemma’s more romantic affectation.

Annie heard a gasp followed by what could only be described as tittering in the background.

“Am I on speaker?”

“Ach, yes, dear,” said Mari. “My friend June is very interested in the current debacle. It’s better than telly!”

From some small distance the voice of the titterer called: “Do tell us more about the synthetic penis!”

Annie laughed. “Oh, Mari, I am sorry. I hope you don’t think we’re being disrespectful. It was just unfortunate timing that your nephew arrived when he did.”

“He called you a sex witch!” said the distant voice.

“I should be so lucky,” said Annie, and Mari and her companion chuckled daintily. “It was probably the candles that gave the witch vibes.”

“Cock by candlelight!” called Mari’s friend.

“Oh, hush now,” Mari admonished. “Annie will think we’re a couple of old hags.”

“Well, anyway,” said Annie, trying to steer the conversation away from cocks by candlelight. “I can assure you, I am in no way abusing your trust. I really hope this doesn’t make you change your mind about letting me stay.”

“Oh, tut tut. Not at all,” Mari said. “My nephew is being overprotective as usual, thinks I’m made of glass; a china prude, he’d have me cast as. Well, I can tell you, I am none of the above. You stay, my girl, and put those plans of yours into action. I’d like to see the Nook be an active part of the community again.”

“The local historical society isn’t best pleased,” said Annie.

“Ah, young Emily. She is a marvelous woman, full of passion! She’s not angry with you, dear, she just wants the Bay to keep the Nook. We’re all on the same team when you come down to it. Perhaps you are the person to unite us. Have you had any thoughts on a name yet?”