“Mr. Knightley will be jealous,” said Annie, turning on the stair.
“Mr. Knightley’s services will no longer be required,” said John, scooping her up and over his shoulder and making Annie squeal with laughter. “I can promise you that anything Mr. Knightley can do, I can do better!”
And as the two lovers discovered each other on that cold, bright winter afternoon, John Granger was as good as his word.
Epilogue
It was Christmas Day, and Annie’s tiny sitting room in Saltwater Nook was fit to burst. John had pushed the sofa and armchair against the wall to make room for a long folding trestle table, which Annie had covered with tablecloths. Celeste and Peter had made several runs up and down the stairs ferrying chairs from the café, while Greg chatted amiably with Mari as she supervised his laying of logs in the wood burner. John had declared himself to be at Annie’s beck and call for the day, and she had taken him at his word, though he’d raised his eyebrows at the volume of Brussels sprouts she’d wanted prepped.
Annie threw the window open in the tiny kitchen and fanned herself with Mari’s almanac. It wasn’t easy cooking a three-course Christmas dinner for seven people in a kitchen the size of a hamster cage.
“Is this the last of it?” asked John, picking up a serving platter piled with a mountain of golden crispy roast potatoes.
“Almost,” said Annie, motioning to two generously filled gravy jugs. “Leave room on the table for the turkey.”
John grimaced. “Much more and it’ll collapse,” he said jokingly. “There’s already enough food to feed Henry VIII, his court, and his peasants!”
“It’s Christmas,” said Annie. “If there’s not far too much food, then I haven’t done it right.”
Two saucepans rattled on the hob as the Christmas puddings steamed. Annie heaved up the giant platter holding a perfectly bronzed turkey and carried it into the warm sitting room. A cheer went up.
“Would you like to carve, Mr. Granger?”
“It would be an honor, Ms. Sharpe,” John replied, planting a brief kiss on her lips, which prompted another cheer from the party around the table.
Mari was sitting at the head of the table, flanked by Greg and Alex, the three of them engaged in a lively discussion about Buddy Holly, whom Mari had seen live in 1958. Peter and Celeste were sat opposite one another deep in conversation, the sparks between them practically fizzing. Annie went around the table filling everyone’s glass with champagne while plates were passed along to be piled with succulent slices of meat.
The conversation was lively and loud. Annie took a sip of her champagne. Outside, the sun was setting, a giant orange orb disappearing into the ocean, and the sky was cloudless, a sure sign of more freezing weather to come. The lights on the little Christmas tree in the corner twinkled, and beneath the sounds of laughter, carols were playing, and logs popped and crackled in the wood stove.
Annie glanced around the table at her favorite people in all the world and felt a deep sense of contentment, and not just from the champagne she’d been drinking since midday. She was happy, happy to her very bones. And when John caught her eye and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, Annie knew there was no place in the world she would rather be than at Saltwater Nook.
Acknowledgments
This book was far harder to write than my first because it came with a host of added worries that weighed on me like the sandbags in Mari’s cellar: Was I just a one-hit-wonder? Would everyone be disappointed by my second offering?
Luckily, I have the most amazing supportive agent and editorial team around me, who reassured and guided me through all my wobbles and made me feel empowered to push on through. People often use the phrase “it takes a village,” but I can assure you that to transform my initial story idea, with all my arm-waving and overly excited descriptions followed by my truly gigantic first draft, to the point where it becomes an actual book, it really does take a village!
Firstly, thank you to Hayley Steed, my agent at the Madeleine Milburn Literary Agency, maker of dreams come true, who champions my work with the strength of a goddess.
To Kate Dresser and Jayne Osborne, my editors, and to Patricja Okuniewska, your enthusiasm, kindness, and faith in my work means the world to me; thank you for your unwavering support and guidance. And Jayne, thank you for not running for the hills when I initially presented you with a manuscript the size of War and Peace!
Thanks to Nishtha Patel, Elora Weil, and Nicole Biton for helping me navigate the tricky world of marketing, promotion, and social media, at which I am an absolute nincompoop, and for being patient and reassuring with me when I send you slightly bananas emails of panic.