“Well, then, you’ve answered your own question,” said Alex. “Stop dipping your toe in and make it happen.”
Annie had her first customer at a quarter past eight and she informed him, and all those who came after, that from now on she would be open every day bar Sunday. A six-day week didn’t entirely fit with her original taking a step back idea, however, she decided she wouldn’t open past half past two in the afternoon, thus giving her acres of free time.
Between customers, she took the chairs down from the tables in the tearoom and set a scented candle on each one. Along the middle table, at which they would sit for the book club, she ran a line of tealights and positioned her new lamps. When it became clear that it was going to be a busy day for coffee, Annie brought her ingredients for tonight’s snacks downstairs and baked them in the small oven in the café kitchenette.
Her phone lit up with a text from Max as she was rolling out the pastry for the tartlets. She hadn’t thanked him for the hamper; she didn’t know the etiquette for gifts from estranged husbands—any message would open a dialogue she didn’t want.
Did you find the hamper I left the other night? I didn’t hear from you, so I wasn’t sure if you’d got it. I put the perishables in a cool-box in case you spent the night elsewhere. I hope you enjoyed it. Do you remember that night? I’d like for us to go back. Start again. Like when we were mad for each other. I meant what I wrote. x
Annie sighed. It was the same as always: sentimental words sandwiched between thinly veiled passive aggression. She replied right away to prevent a follow-up call.
I did find it. Thank you. And yes, I do remember. The baskets were a nice touch!
She dared not say more. She added no kiss at the end. Max needed only the scantiest crumb of encouragement and he’d be like a Jack Russell down a rabbit hole.
Chapter 33
The candles were lit, the tartlets were warming through in the oven, and the Calor Gas fire glowed merrily in the corner. As she added the ingredients for the hot apple punch to the saucepan, Annie began to feel nervous. She barely knew any of these women. What if they didn’t get on? What if they decided they didn’t like her? What kind of impression did she give as a newly single, newly unemployed woman, stumbling around her forties, undecided as to whether she should wear leather trousers or Fair Isle cardigans, or both?
The warm apple and cinnamon added their perfumes to the vanilla-scented candles, and Annie shook crisps into bowls and set them on the table. Sally was the first to arrive.
“Oh, this is lovely,” said Sally as Annie closed the door behind her.
“Sweet, isn’t it?” said Annie. “It’s like a time capsule.”
“It’s great,” said Sally. “Are you going to open it up? It would make a fab little bistro in the evenings.”
“Maybe,” said Annie, inwardly fist-pumping; fantasizing about opening the tearoom had begun to play on loop in her mind, and she was gratified to have her inner monologue validated. “Would you like some nonalcoholic punch?”
“Yes, please,” Sally replied, and moved a chair away from the table and inserted her own in its place. She plonked her copy of The Woman in White on the table and grabbed a handful of crisps. “So, how’s it been?” she asked. “New place and all that?”
“The place is great,” said Annie. “I love it. I know already it’s going to be a huge wrench to leave here in the spring. There’s something about the place that seems to wrap you into it. I feel—” Annie stopped, pondering the right word for how she felt. “Ensconced. I feel ensconced.”
“That’s really good news,” said Sally, having another crisp. “I am genuinely pleased for you. I won’t lie to you, when I first spoke to you, that day on the phone, I was seriously worried about your mental health.”
“So was I,” said Annie. “I think I needed to reboot.”
“Everyone gets body-slammed by life at least once in their lives,” said Sally. “But look at you now! You’ve got a nice little place—in the arse end of nowhere, admittedly—and you’re back on top of your personal hygiene; it’s all good.”
Annie laughed.
“I have to admit, I didn’t expect to be quite so settled so soon,” said Annie.
“And what about the ex?” asked Sally.
“Not so settled,” said Annie.
“Those shelves look well stocked,” Sally said, casting a look around.