Oh, Celeste is his daughter, not his wife! Annie thought. She didn’t know why, but the revelation pleased her. She couldn’t imagine John being anybody’s fool, but she liked the idea that he had someone to give him a run for his money.

“I hope he’s not giving Mari a hard time about me opening the café,” said Annie.

“Don’t judge him too harshly.”

Annie pulled a face and was about to respond when Maeve put up a hand.

“I know, you two got off on the wrong foot and, yes, he can come across as brash. But his heart’s in the right place. Last winter was very hard for Mari; much harder than she let on.”

“But to force her to sell?”

“Did Mari tell you that?”

“Well, no, but . . .”

“Mari may not want to sell to builders, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t open to the idea of selling. Mari is a romantic and John is a pragmatist, but I am given to understand that their end goal is the same.”

Annie reflected on Maeve’s words. Perhaps her own wish to stay in Willow Bay and Emily’s fervent hopes to save Saltwater Nook had clouded her opinion of John Granger. Admittedly he did himself no favors, he was gruff and overly formal and quick to judge, but maybe his heart was in the right place.

Chapter 42

At four o’clock, Raye and Aiden helped the band pack up their stuff and began to ferry the garden furniture back up to the pubs ready for the barbecue. The last customers finished their drinks and melted away. The chill in the air was beginning to bite without the sun to lend its warmth.

Annie was exhausted; she could feel the armchair and the TV upstairs in the tiny sitting room calling her name, but since both sets of Willow Bay publicans had turned out in support of her new venture, she felt she must show her face at their joint barbecue.

“Don’t you have to get back for Alfred?” Annie asked.

“Back for Alfred?” Maeve exclaimed.

“I thought he was fixing your guttering today.”

“He is.”

“Oh, well, it’s just that he said he was going to get a pie and mash supper out of it.”

“He is,” said Maeve again. “He doesn’t need me to sit up there with him while he eats it! Besides, Alfred’s like me, not afraid of his own company. All he’s got to do is sling it in the microwave.”

“Has Alfred got a key to your house?” asked Gemma.

“Doesn’t need a key,” said Maeve. “I didn’t lock the door.”

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” asked Annie.

“Not really, my cottage is on the farm; there’s always some bugger around to notice if something is amiss. And both the girls know how to use a shotgun.”

“How silly of me to worry,” said Annie.

—