“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” said Annie. “I wouldn’t want to ruin a time-honored tradition!”
“Annie, you’re amazing!” cooed Gemma. “Everyone will be so pleased.”
Annie smiled down the phone and wondered what the hell it was she was going to have to do . . .
When the last cake was stashed in the chiller, Annie wrapped a sandwich in foil and left it on the table just in case Alfred spent the night. She also wrote him a note inviting him to come along tomorrow for the opening, free coffee as payment for all the work he’d done. She had been worrying that Alfred might feel he couldn’t sleep in the old tearoom now it was reopening. It was important to her that he should still feel welcome, but equally he was a proud man; the merest hint of charity or pity on her part would push him away. She tucked the note under the sandwich, and then with one last look of satisfaction around the place she headed up to bed.
Chapter 41
The weather looked like it would hold. It was definitely chilly; you could smell the cold in the air, fresh and clean, but the sky was lapis blue and the cotton-wool clouds were the pure-white friendly kind. Alex and Peter had messaged to wish her luck; Alex late last night—no chance he would be up early after a night out—and Peter this morning after his run. Max had sent her a passive-aggressive text asking her to respect their years in business together by not using recipes she had designed for the Pomegranate Seed.
Annie opened the kiosk early as usual and to her surprise Alfred came to wish her luck.
“Why don’t you stay for the festivities?” Annie asked as she made him an extra-large latte with four sugars.
“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.