The House in the Olive Grove

THE HOUSE IN THE OLIVE GROVEEmma Cowell CopyrightPublished by AVONA Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd1 London Bridge StreetLondon SE1 9GFwww.harpercollins.co.ukFirst published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2023Copyright © Emma Cowell 2023Cover design by Claire Ward/HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd Cover photographs: Shutterstock.comEmma Cowell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.Source ISBN: 9780008515874Ebook Edition © May 2023 ISBN: 9780008515881Version: 2023-04-11 Praise for Emma Cowell‘The brilliant Emma Cowell creates worlds of warmth, laughter, healing and hope in her delicious novels. The House in the Olive Grove is a glorious story that celebrates the power of love’Adriana Trigiani ‘I adored The House in the Olive Grove. It is a hymn to friendship and love, and is utterly perfect’Liz Fenwick‘A Grecian journey with a culinary twist, female solidarity, friendship, and romance. What more does one need for a perfect summer read?’Nadia Marks ‘Exploring the power of friendship and love through delicious writing and Greek food, The House in the Olive Grove is evocative, compelling and moving. A glorious story’Kate Frost‘An enchanting treat of a book. Sunshine and friendship, broken hearts and secrets. Cowell’s exquisite writing is as delicious as the food she describes. Five honey-smothered stars from me’Jenni Keer‘A compelling and tender story, beautifully told by an exciting new voice’ Santa Montefiore‘Beautifully written. Emma Cowell writes with warm assurance and brings the Greek setting to life’Sue Moorcroft‘Such an emotive tale of love and loss’Rosanna Ley‘A delicious slice of Greek life. A beautiful love story’Jo Thomas‘A beauty’Peter Andre‘A sweeping epic Grecian romance about grief, healing, and the unpredictable ways they can drive our stories, One Last Letter From Greece is a Jojo Moyes-esque saga that I inhaled’Laura Jane Williams‘Breathtaking world-building, stunning imagery and genuine emotion cooked into every page. I adored it’ Helen Fields‘[An] unputdownable mystery, wrapped up in a heart-wrenching tale of love and loss . . . A great read for the beach as well as a grey day’Tessa Harris‘When you look up from your train seat/sofa/garden sunbed this summer, you’ll be genuinely confused you’re not in a taverna knocking back an ouzo’Caroline Corcoran DedicationFor my Tony ContentsCoverTitle PageCopyrightPraise for Emma CowellDedicationPrologueChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48AcknowledgementsKeep Reading …About the AuthorBy the Same AuthorAbout the Publisher PrologueMariaNew York, ten years agoWhen I was a child, everyone thought I was a witch. I stuck out for the wrong reasons and it’s why I longed to leave Greece as soon as I could. There, it felt like I faced life alone … most of the time. I created a fantasy world of my own making amongst the wild flowers, bees and sun-kissed meadows. Now, as an adult in New York, I’ve once again fashioned a space that’s entirely mine. But it’s real, it’s my kitchen.I grab my keys from the hall console, shouting a goodbye to my husband upstairs. There is no reply. Lucky him, languishing in the luxury of sleep. As I turn to head out, the hallway slowly fills with gossamer strands of silver. They hover and shimmer in the sunlight until they eventually take the shape of Yiayiá, my beloved grandmother. Her tiny frame appears in the doorway, blocking my way, but her usual cheerful expression is grave. Her beady eyes fix on to mine, urging me to understand something I can’t interpret. Her gaze causes my neck to prickle, followed by a series of jumbled snapshots pinging across the backs of my eyes: a stove, a pan, the acrid stench of sizzling oil.I frown as the vision evaporates, along with Yiayiá.I’ve been able to see the dead for as long as I can remember. The gift of premonition – extrasensory perception, or witchcraft, call it what you will. A gentle mist descends with a tingle, running the length of my spine. But today feels different.As I move through the space where the apparition appeared and out of the front door, I shiver. I should warn my team to be careful in the kitchen today. It seems someone might get hurt.The sharp autumn chill sucks the breath from my lungs as I jog down Hudson and Bank. Running to work is my meditation. Jumping through the steam floating up from the grates in the sidewalk, I feel invincible. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as the subway rumbles underfoot. I note the change in the light, hinting at a new season. The leaves on the trees shine russet and gold.I reach Maria’s Kitchen, my beautiful restaurant in Soho, and mutter my daily words of thanks as I stare up at the cobalt sign.As I step into the kitchen, the familiar shivers creep up my back once more, and my yiayiá’s voice inside my head echoes a warning to beware. Puzzled, I stare around the empty space. All is as it should be. I shrug and feel a tingle of excitement about the day. I count my blessings. I am lucky. I have love and I am living my dream. Nothing can stop me.I head over to the stove and reach