“It’s amazing!” she gushed. “You’re amazing! What a turnout. You must be so pleased. Oh, well done, Annie, I’m so proud of you! Samantha, are you moonlighting? Where’s Tom?”
Annie laughed.
“Thanks, Gemma. Hi, kids!” said Annie. Esme and Lennox grimaced; they were less than impressed at having spent twenty minutes in a queue. Annie reached into the chiller and pulled out two pieces of tiffin as a peace offering.
“Tom’s manning the shop,” said Samantha. “When things calm down a bit here, I’ll go up and hold the fort so he can come down.”
“Poor Samantha, came down expecting a relaxing morning and ended up working!” Annie explained.
Samantha shrugged, smiling, and said, “A change is as good as a rest.”
* * *
—
Aside from the wait for drinks, the comments were mostly positive. People were delighted by the prospect of a café on the seafront. Drawn by the sunny weather, lots of visitors who would not ordinarily come this far down the promenade said they would definitely be back. But the people Annie really needed to impress were the ones who would be her bread and butter: the locals. Mari was a beloved local legend, and Annie was stepping into some well-respected shoes. She made a point of taking coffees out to Emily and her associates, who took them with grudging thanks, and Annie was gratified later to see the banners rested up against the wall, slogans inward-facing.
Paul swanned in and out, accepting compliments on his woodwork skills and chatting amiably with everyone. The cheeky winks in the direction of several Willow Bay ladies did not go unnoticed by Annie, nor did their sultry return gazes; Paul’s sexual chemistry was alive and kicking with everyone but her, apparently.
The kite surfing race was a triumph. Bill had a megaphone and gave commentary from his position on the patio wall. Someone had opened a book on the race, which added another dimension to the cheers of the crowd. When the race was over, the folk band struck up and the promenade was alive with dancing children and adults foot-tapping and clapping along to the music. Fleece hoodies and cable-knits were the order of the day, hair was whipped back and forth by the wind, and sunglasses enjoyed a final outing in the glorious autumn sun. It felt to Annie as though the weather had given one last blast of summer before winter. She took it as a good omen, as if the sun itself were encouraging her.
In the midst of it all, Annie found herself looking out for John Granger. She wanted him to see how positive the response was, what she had achieved. But he didn’t show, or at least she hadn’t spotted him. But then she hadn’t had much time to see any of the proceedings, really. From the moment Pam had cut the ribbon, Annie had been practically attached to the coffee machine. The cakes she had made sold out by half past eleven, and the crisps and bars she’d bought at the cash-and-carry had gone by lunchtime. She knew it was a false indicator of what she would need realistically day by day; she was pretty sure mid-November would be a markedly subdued turnout by comparison. But Mari would receive a healthy twenty percent from her first day’s trading, which would be one in the eye for her nephew.
A large bouquet of flowers arrived in the afternoon, causing plenty of tongues to wag. Of course, it was from Max, the gracious deserted husband.
Maeve tsked when she saw them. “A more heartfelt way to show you care would be to not screw other women,” she said dryly.
Sally arrived with Susan, and Susan made all the right appreciative noises about the café.
“So, this is where my other half keeps disappearing off to of an evening,” said Susan, smiling.
“Poor Susan gets a blow-by-blow account of book club,” said Sally.
“I’m thinking of writing a sitcom about it.” Susan arched an eyebrow.
Annie laughed. “Oh, crikey, that’ll send the historical society into overdrive!”
* * *
—
Samantha left to relieve Tom up at the shop, and Maeve heroically stepped in to her place behind the counter. It took her a few goes to get to grips with the new high-tech till, but none of the customers were about to complain to Maeve’s face.
“Looking for anyone in particular?” Maeve asked when she saw Annie scanning the groups of people through the window.
“Oh,” said Annie. Busted. “I was wondering if John Granger would make an appearance. He’d said he wouldn’t, but I thought he might not be able to resist spying on me.”
“I think he went to Cornwall for a few days to catch up with Mari and his daughter.”