Annie woke the next morning with a knot in her stomach. The thought of having to leave Saltwater Nook left her cold. She hadn’t had enough time; she’d barely begun, plus her credit card had taken a bit of beating getting the place ready to open.

She couldn’t imagine not being here: Not waking up every morning beside the fickle North Sea. Not flinging open the shutters on the kiosk to reveal the familiar, eager faces, and not discussing the weather as the coffee machine limbered up for another day’s work.

She lay with the comforting weight of a snoring Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle on her feet and the khaki of an October morning staining the curtains. The rain scratched against the window panes like it wanted to be let in. She had heard the now-familiar noise of shutters being adjusted and closed as Alfred let himself out; would her successor look out for him, she wondered? Annie decided she needed to speak to Mari herself. She would not let another egomaniac man bulldoze her life.

Mari answered on the second ring.

“Well, bless my soul,” she declared. “I am popular today. I’ve just had John on the phone.”

What a telltale tit, Annie thought, snorting inwardly.

“So, you know about last night,” said Annie. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds . . .”

“Quite a cackling coven you’d instigated by the sounds of it.”

To Annie’s surprise, Mari sounded amused.

“It was the book club,” said Annie. “There were some . . . high jinks.”

“John was reluctant to go into detail, but he used the words sordid and sex aid; are these the high jinks to which you are referring?”

Annie almost laughed but swallowed hard to quash it. She decided it was best to just come right out and say it.

“It was a bit of a joke,” Annie began. “At last week’s book club, we’d been discussing my recent singledom, and the other members thought it would be a fun idea to get me a, er . . .” Annie stumbled. Was she really going to use the word dildo to a nonagenarian? “An, um, synthetic penis,” she finished, remembering Gemma’s more romantic affectation.

Annie heard a gasp followed by what could only be described as tittering in the background.

“Am I on speaker?”

“Ach, yes, dear,” said Mari. “My friend June is very interested in the current debacle. It’s better than telly!”

From some small distance the voice of the titterer called: “Do tell us more about the synthetic penis!”

Annie laughed. “Oh, Mari, I am sorry. I hope you don’t think we’re being disrespectful. It was just unfortunate timing that your nephew arrived when he did.”

“He called you a sex witch!” said the distant voice.

“I should be so lucky,” said Annie, and Mari and her companion chuckled daintily. “It was probably the candles that gave the witch vibes.”

“Cock by candlelight!” called Mari’s friend.