Lease? thought Annie. If only! If I had a proper lease, I might have a legal leg to stand on.

“And what do you say, Annie?” asked Malory.

“I love it here,” Annie called over the noise of the coffee grinder. “And I love this café. But it’s not up to me.”

It was as delicate an answer as she could muster while her landlady’s nephew was helping her for free in a café that he didn’t want to exist.

“But the history, John,” implored floral-fleece. “You know Emily is campaigning to have it turned over to the historical society.”

“Trust me, I know,” said John. “Unfortunately, neither I nor my aunt has the money for that kind of philanthropy. We can’t afford to just give it away. Believe me, I’ve tried every way I can think of to find a solution that suits everybody, but the simple fact of the matter is, the land is worth more without Saltwater Nook than with it.”

“What about the local value, then?” asked Cynthia. “Annie’s made the place a part of the community again. That’s got to be worth something?”

“Aye, it is. But it’s not worth more than my aunt’s safety and comfort.”

“What do the local council say about building down here?” asked all-weather-flip-flops.

“I’ve already got planning permission. I’ve gone through all the proper channels. I love Saltwater Nook. You know I do. I practically grew up here. But nostalgia doesn’t pay the bills.”

“We’ll be sorry to see it go,” said Cynthia. “We’ll be sorry to lose the Saltwater Café too.”

“You’ve got a few months of me yet,” said Annie.

“I’ll drink to that!” said Malory, lifting her hazelnut latte.

“Perhaps you can change his mind?” said floral-fleece, conspiratorially, as though John weren’t standing right next to her.

“I’m not sure he’s very flexible,” said Annie. “Men like John tend to barge through the world,” she added with a wry smile.

“Is that what I’m doing?” John chuckled darkly; there was a glint in his eye that could have been chagrin or humor. “You’re a psychologist now, are you, Ms. Sharpe?”

Annie didn’t know if they were playing or fighting; there seemed to be a fine line between the two. And yet there was something about disagreeing with John Granger that she found most enjoyable; his lack of sugarcoating was refreshingly sharp.

“No,” she said, smiling. “I’ve just met men like you before.”

“Men like me indeed! How many men like me have you met, exactly?”

Annie laughed then. “Truth be told, not that many, actually.”

“Still an enigma, then.” He smiled.