The library lobby was plastered with flyers advertising everything from art classes and church times to private tutoring. In pride of place at the center of a large corkboard was the Willow Bay Historical Society manifesto, and surrounding it were details and times of meetings and agendas. Annie noted that almost every meeting featured a “Save Saltwater Nook” slot.

She wandered into the library and spied Emily methodically returning a stack of books to their rightful homes. Annie caught her eye and waved. Emily gave a curt nod.

“Hi,” Annie whispered. She didn’t want to be shushed by Emily. Emily looked like the kind of librarian who shushed patrons as a matter of course. “I’m looking for The Woman in White,” she said.

Emily pointed to the Classics section. “You know, Wilkie Collins wrote The Woman in White just along the coast in Broadstairs,” she said.

“I didn’t,” said Annie. “That’s interesting to know. What a lovely stroke of serendipity.”

“This coastline is steeped in history,” said Emily. “Be nice to keep it that way.”

Annie smiled enigmatically.

“You know, you could be our woman on the inside,” said Emily. “Gathering intel and garnering support for the cause from the people who use the beach.”

“Oh, I’m not sure I should get involved. It feels like a conflict of interest, what with me being a tenant and all.”

“You think you won’t be out on your ear the second Granger gets his money?” said Emily.

Mari had promised Annie the place was hers till the spring. Would John Granger honor that? Annie couldn’t be sure, but what she did know was that starting a campaign against Granger was unlikely to help her case.

“Regardless,” said Annie. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

—

After checking out her book, Annie made her way round to the Willow Bay Stores.

“Annie, hi!” called Samantha. “Tom’s just bringing in the Willow Farm delivery. We’ve got parsnips and an early sprout crop. Winter’s on its way!”

“Ooh, lovely,” said Annie. “I’ll take some sprouts. They’ll be my first ones since February!”

When Tom emerged from out the back laden with boxes of veg, Annie helped herself to a scoop of Brussels sprouts and a bunch of raw beetroot.

“Did you want to put your name down now for a turkey for Christmas?” asked Tom. “I know it seems early, but the farm likes to get an idea of numbers.”

The idea pulled Annie up short. Christmas! What would she be doing for Christmas this year?

“Can I have a think about it?” said Annie. “My plans are somewhat fluid at the moment.”

“Sure,” said Tom, smiling. “No worries. Sam and I will be sampling the Christmas delights at the Captain’s Bounty this year.”

“He doesn’t want to cook!” called Samantha. “Lazy bugger!”

“You cook it, then!” said Tom. He was smiling over at his wife.