“He’s only saying that because he knows I can’t cook,” said Samantha. “My talents lie outside of the kitchen!” She winked at Annie, and Tom shook his head, chuckling.

“Seriously, though,” said Tom. “You could do worse than booking yourself in at the Bounty for Christmas lunch, you know, if you’re going to be on your own. . . .”

Annie promised to give it some thought. With all that had been happening in her life, Christmas had felt like a long way off. But Tom had reminded her that the season of goodwill waited for no woman, and she had plenty to do before then.

Chapter 26

By midafternoon on Saturday, Annie was waxed and ready for her maybe/maybe-not date with Paul. The skin around her bikini line still resembled a plucked goose, but she supposed, if it came to it, at least it was better than the coir welcome mat she’d been sporting before.

It had been years since she’d been on a date—decades, in fact—and she was nervous. The last time she’d dated, the most pressing issue had been whether her kissing partner’s braces would tangle with her own. Deep and meaningful conversations centered on what was happening on Party of Five and whether Britpop or grunge was cooler. The idea of dating with nigh on thirty years of baggage trailing behind her felt almost insurmountable.

Annie had dressed in a pair of baggy teal corduroy dungarees with a thick jumper that had diamonds and stripes woven into the knit. She had pulled her hair up into a red polka-dot headscarf and worn her most comfortable desert boots. She loosely resembled a Land Girl, but this kind of casual style suited her, having always been big of boob and round of cheek. She’d finished the ensemble with red lipstick and a dousing of perfume around her neck in the hopes that Paul would get close enough to give her a sniff.

Paul was as easygoing as their first meeting had suggested, which was just as well since Annie was sketchy about first-date protocol. Right from the start he had set the tone for informal, unpretentious conversation, and without the pressure of having to appear witty or profound, Annie had relaxed into being with him. There wasn’t much about Willow Bay that he didn’t know, nor were there any people who didn’t know him. If Annie’s presence at Saltwater Nook hadn’t been known by the entire village before their date, it certainly was now. She could only imagine the gossip. And what’s more, she didn’t care. The idea of being regarded as a strumpet was infinitely more interesting than her previous reputation as long-suffering wife.

“I’m a carpenter by trade,” said Paul. “A boat builder. I used to travel from yard to yard around the coastline, wherever there was a contract going.”

“What kind of boats did you build?”