A cushion-clad window seat was framed by two large sash windows facing out across the ocean.

“What an amazing view!” said Annie.

“Isn’t it,” said Mari. “It’s never the same twice. I’ve lived here over eighty years and never tired of looking at it.”

“Won’t you miss it while you’re away?”

“I dare say I will. But I won’t be too far from the ocean,” said Mari. “I’m going to stay with a friend who has a house in Cornwall. It’s close by the sea. Not as close as this, mind, but it’s only a short walk away.”

“More of a home away from home than an escape from winter,” said Annie. “I thought you’d be off to Spain or somewhere.”

“Ah, well, maybe next year,” said Mari. “This is a practice run. My nephew’s idea, really. Last winter was too much for me; there’s winter, and then there’s seaside winter! I’m not as hardy as I used to be. Sometimes the weather was so bad I couldn’t get out for a week at a time, though my friends in the village are very kind, and I didn’t want for anything. My friend June, in Cornwall, lives on a high street; everything’s on the doorstep. It takes me an hour to climb that hill.” Mari motioned with her head toward the hillside. “And that’s on a good day. But with the January wind against you . . . Like I said,” Mari continued, almost as if Annie weren’t there, “I’m not as hardy as I used to be. The locals kept an eye on me, along with my nephew, but I don’t like fuss. I don’t want to be cosseted like some decrepit creature that’s passed its usefulness. I want to be able to look after myself for as long as I’m able.”

“Still,” said Annie. “It’s nice to know people are looking out for you.”

Mari smiled.

“John’s a good boy,” she said. “I don’t say he’s not. But he forgets I used to change his nappy! I daresay if his mother were alive, he’d be fussing over her instead, but she’s not, God rest her, and sometimes his extravagance drives me to distraction. Look at those!” she said, gesturing toward the windows. “Triple glazed! Triple! Did you ever hear the like?”

“Were the old ones drafty?” asked Annie, only just noticing that the room was bereft of any of the sounds of the blowy shore outside.

“Whistled like a sheep farmer!” said Mari. “The draft could blow-dry your hair from the other side of the room.”

“I suppose he thought these would be warmer,” said Annie.

“Oh, they’re that all right,” said Mari. “It’s like being sealed in a Tupperware! The boy is terrified I’ll catch pneumonia. That’s what killed my sister, you see, his mum.”