Emily shuffled her chair so that her legs were fully under the table and folded her arms.
“There’s a lot of history in Saltwater Nook,” said Emily. “And the Bay.”
“So Mari said,” Annie replied. “She didn’t have time to tell me much. It was all a bit of a blur really: her moving out, me moving in.”
“You know he wants her to sell the place?” said Emily.
“Who?” asked Annie.
“John, her nephew,” said Emily.
“She mentioned it,” said Annie, noncommittally.
Emily leaned back in her chair.
“This is the first winter Mari has spent away from the Bay since she arrived here as a thirteen-year-old runaway,” said Emily.
“Goodness!” said Annie. She wasn’t entirely sure what response Emily was looking for.
“Whose idea do you think that was?” Emily surveyed Annie through her horn-rimmed spectacles, her fingers tented in front of her face.
“Hers,” said Annie. “She told me she couldn’t face another winter here.”
“That’s what she told you,” said Emily. “But how do we know he didn’t cajole her into leaving?”
Annie had to admit this thought had passed through her mind.
“And what would be his reason for that?”
“To get her out of the way!” said Emily. “Distract her with a holiday and then bam!” Emily smacked her hand down on the table, making Annie jump in her seat. “Get her to sign away her house. Good-bye, historical gem. Hello, overpriced boxy beachside apartments, sports cars, and The Real Housewives of Willow Bay!”
“Now, now, Emily,” said Pam.
Pam set Annie’s wine and water down on the table. Annie swigged gratefully from first the water, then the wine, and then the wine again. Emily was rather an intense welcome party.
“Emily runs the Willow Bay library, just down the road. And the local history society,” said Pam.
“We can kiss our history good-bye if Granger gets his way!” said Emily.
“Don’t you be filling Annie’s head with your conspiracy theories,” said Pam. “John’s a good man.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that a massive piece of Willow Bay history will be lost!” said Emily.
“I don’t say it won’t be a tragedy,” said Pam. “But it’s not in our hands.”
“Isn’t the building listed?” asked Annie.
Bill arrived with Annie’s dinner. Curls of meaty steam rolled up from the plate, and Annie’s mouth watered.
“Mari never applied for ‘listed status’ because she didn’t want local government to have an opinion on things she might want to do to her own property,” said Pam.
“Which means whoever she sells it to can knock it down without repercussion,” said Emily. “The plain fact is that history should belong to everyone, not just one person. Our campaign is to have Saltwater Nook turned over to the historical society. We will maintain it for generations to come and turn it into the Willow Bay Museum.”
“Is there much call for a Willow Bay Museum?” Annie asked.
Emily eyed her like a tiger about to pounce on a deer, and Annie got the distinct impression she had managed to make an enemy on her first day of residence. Pam stepped in quickly.
“Oh my goodness, Willow Bay is full of history, absolutely riddled with the stuff,” Pam said jovially. “We have a long history of shipwrecks and smugglers, even some sunken treasure! They say British soldiers were living in the tunnels beneath the cliff and your new home during the Napoleonic Wars, gathering intelligence from boats in the night. If the walls of Saltwater Nook could talk . . .”
“But they can’t,” broke in Emily. “Which is why we have to be their voice and protect it from villains like John Granger!”
“I don’t think you give John enough credit,” said Bill.
“Dad!”
“You’re looking at it from a purely academic perspective,” said Bill. “But John’s got to think of Mari. You want Mari to sign the Nook over to the historical society, and that’s all very noble, but what happens to Mari? Her money’s tied up in that place.”
“Oh, he’s not doing it for Mari,” said Emily. “He’s doing it to line his own pockets. History is bigger than just people!”
“Some might say history is just people,” said Bill thoughtfully.
Emily snorted. Annie wished they would all bugger off, so she could hoover up her dinner. If they didn’t sling their hooks soon, she was likely to plunge her face into the food and start devouring roast parsnips.