“John, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. Those are the facts. I’m not going to lose another family member to sheer bloody-mindedness and wasted sentimentality over a building.”
“But this place isn’t like your mum’s house,” reasoned Annie. “Everyone loves it. I love it! Sentimentality is only wasted if no one else appreciates it.”
John pulled a chair out from the bench by the window and slumped down into it, his head in his hands.
“Mari’s been talking for a couple of years about moving in with her friend June, in Cornwall, ‘when she’s older,’ ha!” Another humorless laugh. “When she’s older! For Christ’s sake! I persuaded her to give it a try this winter, see how she gets on.”
“And?”
“She loves it there. If it weren’t for this place, I don’t think she’d look back. She’s under the Saltwater Nook spell, like every other bugger in this village.”
“And you’re not?”
“My aunt is holding out for a buyer who doesn’t exist, someone who will love this place like she does. But nobody could love it like she does! It’s old, it’s tiny, most potential buyers would be wanting to extend it by double at the very least, and that’s reflected in the price they’re willing to pay for it. Better to sell it as a blank canvas with planning permission.”
Annie walked over to him and laid her hand on his arm. “I don’t think you want to sell it to a developer,” she said gently.
John sighed again and she realized he looked tired. “It’s not about me. The plain fact is, if she sells, I can get both Mari and June carers, twice a day; live-in carers, even, when the time comes. Meals delivered, shopping delivered, cleaners . . . if she sells, I can give her every comfort for however many years she’s got left. She looked after me when I needed it; all I’m trying to do is return the favor. It’s my inheritance anyway; she’s leaving the place to me. And my decision is that the money be used to make her life comfortable.”
“What if there is someone who loves it as much your aunt does?”
John looked at her. “Annie, I don’t doubt your motives, but love doesn’t pay the bills.”
Annie bit her lip. That’s for damn sure! “No,” she said. “But cold, hard cash does.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you actually signed anything? I mean, could you hold your buyer off for a few months?”
“He knew I was honoring Mari’s commitment to let you stay until Easter. Why?”
“I own half my restaurant business. I also own half the restaurant building and my house. I’m in the process of trying to get my husband to buy me out. I don’t know what price you’ve agreed with your builder friend, but I want to throw my hat into the ring.”
John was looking at her with an even bigger frown than usual. “Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Annie. “I want to buy Saltwater Nook.”
She hadn’t expected to blurt it out like that. In truth, it had been a half-formulated what-if rumbling around in her head for a while: one of those idle daydreams that recur when you’re washing up, or showering, or watching the sea . . . now that she thought about it, this idle thought had been on a permanent loop.
John sat staring at her, his mouth slightly open. Annie was getting to know his face, the myriad of tiny adjustments that made up his expressions: the twitch at the corners of his mouth that could mean stifled amusement or mischief, depending on the glint in his eyes, and the crinkles at their edges, which became deep creases when he was incredulous—as he was now. The lines in his forehead formed ridges when he frowned in annoyance, and his eyebrows would meet in the middle for chagrin or work independently of one another when he was being cocky or self-righteous, one brow raising itself into a questioning arch. These little facial cues expressed the things his mouth didn’t say and very often belied his words altogether. John Granger called himself a realist, but Annie knew he loved Saltwater Nook every bit as much as his aunt did. If ever there was a man looking for a reason not to sell to builders, it was he.
“I’ll need to think about it,” he said finally, smoothing his face to a blank.
“Take your time.”
“And I’ll need to make sure the numbers work.”
“Absolutely. I’m not trying to put you out of pocket. I’m giving you the option to sell it as a going concern: as a thriving, established business, as well as the living accommodation. But if I can’t offer what you need, I’ll stand down and you can sell to the developer. All I’m asking for is fair consideration.”