A Season for Second Chances(53)

“I’m not keen on crowds,” said Alfred.

“Well, so long as you know that you’re welcome,” said Annie, not wanting to push it.

“I’ll be up at Maeve’s place all day, sorting the guttering.”

“I’m surprised Maeve doesn’t fix her own guttering.” Annie laughed.

“It’s about the only thing she won’t do. She doesn’t like heights. Otherwise she probably would. But then I’d be out of a good pie and mash supper.”

“She’s a very capable woman,” said Annie.

Alfred grunted. “Built like a shire horse and just as pigheaded. I appreciate the snacks you leave out for me.” His voice was gruff.

“It’s no bother,” said Annie.

“You don’t have to do it just because Mari did.”

“I know. I like to. And besides, you help me with the garden, and you were a godsend getting this place ready, so it’s payment for services rendered.”

Alfred made a sort of growl that might have been an agreement. Annie handed him his coffee.

“Thank you. You make very good coffee.”

“Thank you. You are always welcome to stop for a morning coffee before you disappear off on your daily travels,” said Annie.

By half past nine, people were starting to gather in the general Saltwater Nook area. Emily and a couple of others held placards that read SAVE SALTWATER NOOK, but they were quietly respectful in their dissent.

Soon, there was a bigger crowd than Annie could have foreseen, and she began to worry about how she was going to manage. Pam had to shout to be heard above the crowd when she made her speech, before cutting the ribbon across the door with due pomp and ceremony: “I now declare the Saltwater Café open!”

A cheer went up.

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say we are delighted that Annie, with Mari’s blessing, has decided to make Saltwater Nook an active part of our community once more.”

More cheering. And then someone piped up: “Come on, then, get that coffee machine humming!”

And so it began and it did not stop. As the first wave of customers filed into the café, it became quickly evident that, despite not offering table service, there was still not enough of Annie to go around.

“Need a hand?” Samantha’s voice trilled across the crowd.

“Would you mind? Could you work the till?” Annie called. She’d splashed out and treated herself to a twenty-first-century till in the refit.

Samantha pushed her way through the waiting customers and around to the service side of the counter. She took a moment to scan the till and nodded to herself.

“Right,” she said. “I’ve got this, you concentrate on coffee.”

“Thank you so much!” Annie gushed. “I really misjudged the numbers.”

Samantha took orders and payments and doled out sundries, while Annie worked the coffee machine, her arms aching. There was a party atmosphere in and outside of the café; nostalgic sounds of 1930s jazz and swing played through the speakers and lent an ambience of calm despite the hubbub. Gemma grinned and waved from the back of the room. By the time she and the children reached the front of the queue, she looked as though she might burst.

“It’s amazing!” she gushed. “You’re amazing! What a turnout. You must be so pleased. Oh, well done, Annie, I’m so proud of you! Samantha, are you moonlighting? Where’s Tom?”

Annie laughed.

“Thanks, Gemma. Hi, kids!” said Annie. Esme and Lennox grimaced; they were less than impressed at having spent twenty minutes in a queue. Annie reached into the chiller and pulled out two pieces of tiffin as a peace offering.

“Tom’s manning the shop,” said Samantha. “When things calm down a bit here, I’ll go up and hold the fort so he can come down.”

“Poor Samantha, came down expecting a relaxing morning and ended up working!” Annie explained.

Samantha shrugged, smiling, and said, “A change is as good as a rest.”



* * *



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Aside from the wait for drinks, the comments were mostly positive. People were delighted by the prospect of a café on the seafront. Drawn by the sunny weather, lots of visitors who would not ordinarily come this far down the promenade said they would definitely be back. But the people Annie really needed to impress were the ones who would be her bread and butter: the locals. Mari was a beloved local legend, and Annie was stepping into some well-respected shoes. She made a point of taking coffees out to Emily and her associates, who took them with grudging thanks, and Annie was gratified later to see the banners rested up against the wall, slogans inward-facing.

Paul swanned in and out, accepting compliments on his woodwork skills and chatting amiably with everyone. The cheeky winks in the direction of several Willow Bay ladies did not go unnoticed by Annie, nor did their sultry return gazes; Paul’s sexual chemistry was alive and kicking with everyone but her, apparently.

The kite surfing race was a triumph. Bill had a megaphone and gave commentary from his position on the patio wall. Someone had opened a book on the race, which added another dimension to the cheers of the crowd. When the race was over, the folk band struck up and the promenade was alive with dancing children and adults foot-tapping and clapping along to the music. Fleece hoodies and cable-knits were the order of the day, hair was whipped back and forth by the wind, and sunglasses enjoyed a final outing in the glorious autumn sun. It felt to Annie as though the weather had given one last blast of summer before winter. She took it as a good omen, as if the sun itself were encouraging her.