On the far left of the room was a small counter. In front of the counter were little trays filled with tourist trinkets to buy, such as key rings and ornaments and candy. The large front window had a ledge with a display of books set up on it, and behind that ledge was a window seat for people to relax.
On the left, just in from the door, was a small, unlit fireplace and two cute old-fashioned armchairs set up on either side of it. Beside it was a wide bookcase filled with books. A sign on top of the bookcase stated they were new releases.
The right side of the room was taken up with stacks of oak bookshelves, each spaced apart with enough room for people to maneuver through them. Although the store was small, each bookcase had a sign on the side with a category on it: romance, crime, poetry, etc.
Just as I’d hoped when I saw the photographs online, it reminded me of the small bookstore in my hometown that my parents would take me to once a month as a kid. They’d let me pick out a new book or order one if the store didn’t have a particular title I wanted.
Nostalgia caused an aching flare in my chest as I continued to take in the space.
The shelves facing out toward the window boasted a display. This one was on the history of Northumberland with books, nonfiction and fiction, about the area.
“Books, books, books,” I muttered as the room seemed to sway.
“Fresh sea air is good,” Penny said, drawing my gaze back to her. She wore an amused expression. “But it can also make you sleepy when you’re not used to it . . . and on top of jet lag I can only imagine how knackered you are.”
“Knackered. That’s a good word.”
“It means ‘tired,’ pet. And I think we’ll go over all the shop stuff tomorrow and just get you settled in.”
I barely remembered advancing up the narrow stairs at the back of the building or Penny showing me around the apartment. I did remember her telling me she’d stocked the kitchen with some food, milk, tea, and coffee for me, which was so sweet, but before I knew it, she was gone.
The last thing I remembered was kicking off my shoes and face-planting on the first bed I found.
* * *
• • •
Penny was sweet enough to leave a note for me.
I’ll be round at 11 to show you the ropes. The Anchor does a wonderful English breakfast. It opens at 7.30. Hope you slept well, Penny.
I could hear her saying it in my head and decided hers was my new favorite accent.
Jet lag was evil and I’d awoken at five a.m. After making some coffee and nibbling on cookies Penny had left, I unpacked my suitcase and then snuggled down in the sitting room. The living space was open plan with a kitchen and sitting area, with a large modern window overlooking the water.
There was a wood-burning stove in the corner of the room, but there was also a heating system that must have been on a timer because I wasn’t cold, despite the dreary weather outside. After sending a text to Greer to let her know I’d arrived and spending a dreamy hour staring out at the sea, I hopped in the shower in the bathroom that accompanied the master bedroom. By the time I emerged, the sun had broken through the rain and turned the village resplendent with color from the vibrancy of the flowers in the harbor gardens, to the bright painted stonework of some of the buildings.
Deciding to take up Penny’s recommendation, I blow-dried my hair, changed into skinny jeans and a T-shirt, and grabbed my purse, excited for breakfast. My belly had been grumbling at me for hours, completely in shock at the time difference.
A fairly strong breeze blew up from the water, but I enjoyed it as I stared across the harbor to the other side. Perched atop the land above the right side of the harbor was a large stone building with a garden. I could see empty benches and chairs outside. Guessing this was The Anchor, I walked the path along the harbor road and followed it as it took a steep turn upward.
There were already a few people milling about, and from their camera-phone snap happiness, I gathered they were tourists. Standing aside to let two cars pass me, I noted another pub