It took me a minute to understand what she was saying because she pronounced the name of the village differently from how it was spelled. “Anster? I thought it was called Alnster?”

She chuckled. “If it’s spelled A-L-N round these parts, it’s usually pronounced like ‘an’ with a silent L. And w’s in place-names are sometimes silent . . . just to confuse you even more.”

“Oh.” I grinned gratefully at her. “Well, I’m glad I found out now before I pronounce the village name wrong to customers.”

At her eyebrow raise, I continued, “I’m renting Much Ado About Books.”

The bartender frowned. “Penny’s still renting it out?”

I shrugged, wondering at the question. “She rented it to me for four weeks.”

“Four weeks? I guess I’ll be seeing you around then. I’m Milly Tait. I own this place with my husband, Dexter.” She held out her hand to shake.

I took it. “Hi, Milly, I’m Evie. Have you been here long?”

“The Anchor was opened by my granddad seventy-five years ago. Was just a pub back then but Dex is a chef, and he turned the place into a proper gastropub.”

“How cool. Does that mean you grew up here?”

“Born and raised. Where in America are you from?”

“Chicago.”

“Ah, big-city lass then?” she teased. “Living here will be quite the change of pace.”

“A much-needed change of pace.”

“I sense a story there. Perhaps you’ll come back in this evening and tell me all about it.”

I hadn’t known what to expect from the locals. Would they resent tourists coming in and running one of their stores, be indifferent, or embrace temporary residents? I was glad Milly was so friendly.

“I’d like that.”

After I paid up and said goodbye to Milly, I walked around the small village. The bookstore was on the very end of the coastline. There wasn’t anything beyond it but a few houses before the road ended and the cliff tops began. There was a path along the cliffs, made over the years by people traversing them, so I decided I’d put some time aside at some point to take a walk along it. On the opposite side of the village, however, where The Anchor was, was the main hub of Alnster. There was The Alnster Inn, a post office, a convenience store, a butcher shop, a bakery, a tourist shop, a café, and an art gallery/jeweler. There seemed to be two establishments to a building with lanes between each. I ventured down those cobblestoned lanes to find idyllic, quaint cottages tucked away at the end.

Back on the main road, heading away from that central hub, the village opened up into what was a housing development. The houses weren’t as quaint here, but they looked out over the water. A playground sat above the sand dunes on the opposite side of the road.