After a consultation with her solicitor—which resulted in a reasonably threatening letter being sent to Max—Annie arranged a meeting with her financial adviser, and they worked out roughly what settlement she could expect, according to the Pomegranate Seed’s last-year figures and her halves of the properties she owned with Max. Annie had always kept her eye on the fluctuating market of the hospitality industry, and she knew how much a small business like Saltwater Nook was worth. A local estate agent had given her a valuation for the building as a whole, and Annie had put together an offer accordingly. She’d written it down on a piece of paper and it had been burning a hole in her pocket ever since.
Annie could hardly wait for John to get back so that she could present him with her counteroffer. It had to be enough, it just had to be. She needed to buy Saltwater Nook. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to see him. Every time she thought about John—which she did a lot—a whizz of excitement thrilled in her stomach. It was ridiculous; it was like being sixteen again and unable to concentrate on anything but her latest crush.
Chapter 64
The swimmers had just left, having taken their dip early on account of the forecast looking choppy for later. All-weather-flip-flops had cleaned out Annie’s supply of tiffin bars for when her grandchildren visited later. There were no other customers at present, and by the looks of the empty promenade in both directions, there wouldn’t be for at least twenty minutes. Annie picked up a basket and rested the handle over her forearm.
“Right, I’m going to collect some stones. You’re in charge.”
Gemma gulped dramatically, and Annie laughed.
“Call me if you need help.”
“No problem,” said Gemma brightly. “I want to crack on with getting the sauces and honeys on the back shelf.”
Annie smiled. Gemma was an absolute godsend, well worth maxing out her credit card to pay her wages; she had already transformed the shelving into delightfully chaotic deli displays that drew the eye and encouraged lots of browsing and ultimately, buying. Annie was going to have to up her orders from her local providers and was already searching for new lines to add to her artisan foods collection.
The swimmers were right to have come early; the sky was baby blue with powder puff clouds, but glowering around the cliff edges the clouds were like wire-wool, casting dark shadows over the sea. Annie drank in the cold air and reveled in the chill after the heat of the café. She wandered along the beach, scooping to pick up pebbles to her specifications; smooth, oval, or roundish, about the size to comfortably fit her palm.
A voice shouted: “Don’t you know it’s illegal to steal pebbles from the beach?”
Annie jumped, dropping the pebble she’d been studying. It was John, just rounding the cove. Annie’s heart leaped in her chest at the sight of him.
“You’re back!” She tried and failed to wipe the delighted smile off her face.
“I am indeed.” John grinned back at her as he tramped up the beach.
“Where did you spring from?” she called back.
“Just popped in to see Alfred.” John nodded back toward the cave. He was wearing green wellingtons over his jeans and a cream Aran-knit jumper. As he got closer, Annie could see the beginnings of a beard.
“What are you doing?” John asked when he reached her.
“What are you doing?” she countered.
“I told you, I’ve been to see Alfred.”
“I didn’t know Alfred took house calls.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Once,” said Annie. “He chased me out.”
John laughed heartily at that. “Sounds about right,” he said. “Now you. What’s all this?” He pointed to her basket.
“Positivity pebbles,” said Annie.
“What?”
“Positivity pebbles. I’ll leave these in the basket on the bench by the window, with some nontoxic paint pens, and people can write nice messages on them and bury them on the beach for someone to find.”
“Messages like what?”
“Like . . .” Annie looked to the sky for inspiration. “Like, have a great day, or you are special, or sent with love, or . . .” She thought back to that day in Tonbridge Wells and the pebble she had found just before she saw the ad in the paper, “or everything is going to be all right . . . the kind of thing that will put a smile on someone’s face when they find it.”
“Why?”
“Why not? Think of it as random words of kindness.”