A Season for Second Chances(63)

Chapter 49



The following night Annie was just starting to drift into that halfway between wake and sleep when a text came through to her phone.


Good evening Ms. Sharpe! I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from my aunt. It’s John by the way. I left rather abruptly the other day. If you’d like some help with Halloween from a grumpy forty-something man, then I’d be glad to apply for the role. J.G.



A little firework of excitement whizzed around in her stomach. Annie chastised herself and read the text again. She would like some help, especially from someone who knew how Halloweens at Willow Bay usually went. And it might be good for him to be reminded that Saltwater Nook was an important part of the community.

She typed and deleted several messages before she found a tone that was right.

Finally, she settled for: I don’t mind at all, it’s probably sensible for you to have my number anyway, in case of emergencies, which I don’t anticipate, but then nobody ever does, which is why they are called emergencies. Yes please to helping with Halloween, a grumpy forty-something man will be a welcome addition to proceedings. Annie

She added and deleted a single smiley face emoji several times before deciding that John Granger was not the smiley face emoji type. She hoped that he would be encouraged by her sign-off to start using her name rather than addressing her as Ms. Sharpe, which made her sound like a Dickensian spinster.

She pressed send and lay back against the pillows. She was wide awake now; there was something furtive about late-night texts, and despite herself she felt a thrill rising up in her chest . . . or maybe that was just the garlic, mushroom, and leek mac ’n’ cheese she’d had for supper repeating on her. Would he reply to her text? Was he smiling at her witty response? She reprimanded herself for the consideration. Was he one of those people who replied straightaway or left the message hanging for a day? Would he reply at all?

Annie wasn’t sure why she was allowing this to take up so much space in her thoughts. She sighed loudly, disturbing Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, who squinted at her disdainfully before going back to sleep.

It wasn’t like she fancied John Granger, though he was undeniably attractive—in a scowling sort of way. But just because someone was pleasing to the eye didn’t make them pleasing company. His features, she thought, would be considered by most to be agreeable, though his nose was pencil sharp at the tip and he probably had to pluck to prevent a monobrow. His eyes were blue-gray, deep-set with black lashes, which were annoyingly long, hiding away beneath a prominent brow. Max had grown a beard as he’d got older, conscious of his weakening chin, whereas John’s chin remained distinct, his jawline strong and untouched by the softening of age, shadowed permanently by a beard awaiting permission to grow through. Her musings were punctuated by her inner self wagging a warning finger at her. Annie blew a raspberry at her inner self and checked her phone. Nothing. She tutted at herself. It was clear that she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, so she opened Lady Audley’s Secret at her bookmark and began to read. She was an hour in when her phone vibrated beside her on the bed. She snatched it up.


Great. I’ll probably be there late morning. John



Annie placed the phone back down and opened her book again. She realized she was grinning like an emoji. Her phone pinged again.


If you could only have one drink for the rest of your life, what would it be?



This was such an odd, unexpected question that she burst out a laugh.


What?


Just answer the question, Ms. Sharpe.



Annie took a moment to consider, before replying: Tea. I know that’s probably terribly boring but there really isn’t a situation which can’t be soothed or made better by a cup of tea. You?


Irn-Bru. I’m Scottish, it would be treasonous to choose anything else.



Annie gave this three laughing face emojis and a thumbs-up.


I’ll see you Friday.


You will indeed.



Annie was all a-flutter. John Granger really was most surprising. She picked up her book and went back to reading the shocking exploits of Lady Lucy Audley, though her eyes kept slipping to the bedside cabinet where Mr. Knightley lay waiting, wrapped in one of her linen scarves, ready for action.





Chapter 50



On Friday morning, when John Granger strode into the café he was greeted like a prodigal son by Annie’s Willow Bay customers and eyed curiously by those from out of town, who were trying to ascertain if he was someone they ought to recognize. Annie was busy at the coffee machine.

“What can I get you?” she asked, noting with pleasure that for the first time he was properly noticing the changes she had made to the café. “I’m afraid I’m clean out of Irn-Bru.”

John smiled at her. “Can you do a flat white?” he asked.

“Of course!”

“It looks good,” John said, nodding to the shelving and the new arrangement, though Annie could see it cost him to say it.

“Thank you,” said Annie. “I’m really pleased with how it’s turned out. I think your aunt would approve.” She saw his jaw clench ever so slightly and felt satisfied. Can I do a flat white, indeed! she thought.

“I hope it didn’t cost you too much. I wouldn’t like you to be out of pocket when it sells in the new year.”