Chapter Ten

Practically as soon as she wrapped Ash up in her arms, Pen knew that she'd potentially made a mistake. But she couldn't help holding on for an extra second, feeling the slightness of Ash, the warmth of her. It was only when George cleared his throat that Pen finally let go.

Ash was looking red and flustered, a look that made Pen's blood warm.

"That's settled then," George said.

"Not quite," said Ash. "I mean, for a start, there's the question of how exactly you're going to go about this."

George shook his head. "Oh no, I agreed to be here for the actual telling part, but I've got hot yoga at the community center in half an hour and if I'm not in my leotard by quarter till I'll have to have a mat at the back."

"You've done your bit for tonight," Pen said, because she had promised him he could leave. Not just because him leaving would mean that she and Ash were alone. Actually, now that she thought about it, being alone with Ash was a bit terrifying. "Unless you want to stay?" she added.

"I do not, I'll be back in the morning for work," George said. "And your kettle's boiled, by the way."

He took himself off and Pen busied herself with the kettle and pouring tea so that she didn't have to look at Ash sitting at the table with her arms folded.

"Are you really serious about this?" Ash asked.

"Deadly," said Pen, putting tea mugs down on the table and sitting. "The bookshop is part of our community and I think we should keep it."

"Got enough cash on you to finance a bookshop then?" asked Ash with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course not," Pen grinned. "But we'll get there. Don't worry. Something will turn up, it always does."

Ash pushed her lips out in a doubtful expression. "Well, as long as you remember that you're on a time schedule and that I'm not hanging around here forever."

"Not a problem," said Pen, patting Fabio as he purred on the table. "And I'll get Fabio out of your hair as well."

Ash looked at her watch. "Your five minutes is more than up, by the way."

"Oh, come on, let me finish my tea at least," Pen said. "Have another brownie."

"It's not good to eat chocolate so close to bedtime," Ash said, taking a square anyway.

"Says who?"

"Says anyone. Eating sweets before bedtime seems like a crazy idea."

"So seven o'clock is your bedtime, is it? Good to know." Pen breathed in the steam of her tea, looking at Ash in the fading kitchen light. She was older than she'd supposed, maybe close to forty. And though she sounded prickly, she didn't look like she was especially uncomfortable.

"It's my walk time, actually."

"Noted," said Pen, sipping her tea. "So, you're an accountant then?"

With a sigh, Ash nodded and picked up her mug.

"Interesting?" asked Pen.

"Mmm."

Pen put her mug down. "How are you finding Tetherington?"

"It's fine."

Pen sighed. "You could try a bit harder, you know? It's just small talk. It's not rocket science. It's a politeness, something to make people feel at ease."

"I don't need to make people feel at ease," Ash said. "Especially people that barge into my shop uninvited and make themselves cups of tea."

"There's no need to be mean."

"And in real answer to your question, the town seems fine but very full of people that seem to think my business is their business."

Pen grinned. "That's small towns for you. You'll learn soon enough that there's no keeping secrets around here. Why, do you have a few skeletons in your closet?"

"I have not a single bone in a single cupboard, thank you very much," Ash huffed. "I just happen to like being alone, that's all."

Pen sipped quietly at her tea. Ash took a bite of brownie and almost, almost smiled as she chewed on it. Okay, she could see George's point. Ash was a bit… spiky. But that was what you got from living in London. Being surrounded by anonymity all the time, maybe that made you lonely, and being lonely made you grumpy. Ash just needed to practice her manners, that was all.

"Tell me what you know about Mary," Ash said, breaking the silence and nearly making Pen drop her cup.

"Mary was lovely."

"So says everyone. Or at least George. Anything a little more helpful than that?"

Pen wrapped her hands around her cup thinking of all the evenings she'd spent in this kitchen with her friend.

"She came to town yonks ago, bought the shop immediately, and said she'd always wanted a romance bookshop." Pen smiled. "A lot of people thought she was batty, but Mary just said that romance was dreams and she wanted to sell dreams. She liked making people happy. Not in a people-pleaser kind of way, but in a genuine way. She had a big heart but she also had a sharp tongue. Never afraid of telling people what she thought." She gave Ash a look.

"What?"

"Nothing, just thinking that might run in the family."

"What about her personal life?" Ash asked, ignoring this.

"She was everyone's friend. Never had a quiet night. Between the WI and crochet, bookclubs and dinner parties, Mary was a social butterfly." Pen considered this. "Maybe that part doesn't run in the family so much."

Ash sipped her tea. "Alright, but what about more… personal stuff. Did she have, I don't know, a dead husband or a boyfriend or something?"

Pen shrugged. "Not that I knew of. She always seemed happy though, so I'm not sure that's what she was looking for."

"Isn't that unusual though?" Ash pushed. "I mean, most people seem to want to get married, don't they? Most people want to be with someone?"

And Pen could tell that she was walking on shaky ground here even if she didn't quite know why. "It might be unusual," she said carefully. "But it was just the way Mary was. She wasn't lonely and I don't think she suffered from it. I think it was more that she gave so much of herself to other people that maybe when she got home she needed a little alone time?"

"Huh." Ash shifted in her chair, ate a mouthful of brownie and swallowed. "What about getting a mortgage?"

"A mortgage?" Pen asked, surprised that they were talking about the shop again.

"Yes, it's where you borrow money from the bank to buy property and pay it back in installments over several years."

"I know what a mortgage is," Pen said indignantly. She was also a hundred percent sure that there wasn't a bank in the world that would give her one. "But if this is going to be a community project, then the community should be involved, it's not just about me."

"Church fetes and jumble sales aren't going to buy a bookshop," pointed out Ash.

"We'll see about that," said Pen with a grin.

Ash sighed and stood up. "You're one of those people, aren't you? Someone who always thinks things are going to turn out alright. A glass half-full person, a wake up with a smile person."

"And what's so wrong with that?" asked Pen, standing up as well. She was obviously being dismissed.

"That's the kind of person that always gets disappointed in life," said Ash. "Make sure you take the cat." She picked up the tea mugs and turned toward the sink.

For a second Pen remembered that hug. But it seemed far away now. She picked up Fabio without protest and held him close. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

"Not necessary," said Ash, not turning around. "Come when you've got something to tell me. You don't need to drop in all the time."

Pen bit her lip but said nothing, leaving quietly with Fabio in her arms.

THE MORE SHE thought about it, the better the idea seemed. But she couldn't get around the fact that money was going to be an issue. With Ash being an accountant and all, they weren't likely to get a bargain.

She'd been up since four, stirring bread doughs and putting egg washes on pastries, working automatically and humming to herself as Fabio chased invisible mice before disappearing out of the back door to be about his business. The bakery smelled delicious and was quiet and light. It was Pen's favorite time of the day.

Starting at around eight there was a small morning rush, and she had to wipe off floury hands to deal with children on their way to school and mothers hurrying back from dropping younger ones off. It wasn't until after ten that she had time to go back to the kitchen and start cleaning up.

She was whistling a cheerful song when the shop bell dinged.

"With you in a second," she shouted through, sweeping up the pile of flour and dirt into a dustpan and then washing her hands before going into the shop.

Marjorie Thurst was standing at the counter looking impatient. Pen greeted her with one of her best smiles.

"What can I help you with today?" she chirped.

"I just came in to see if you can cater a small lunch today," said the councilwoman. "Just some quick sandwiches and coffees. Deliverable at around twelve. We're having a special meeting."

Pen beamed. So she had impressed the council. Alright, she was only getting paid cost, but still, the more people ate her food, the more people would buy it later. She could see it now, catering children's parties and business deals and even people coming in for lunchtime snacks.

"I'd be happy to," she said. "How many people?"

"Eight to ten," said the councilwoman.

"Consider it done," Pen said, making a note for herself. "What's this special meeting all about then?"

If Marjorie Thurst had been the kind of woman to roll her eyes, she would have done so. Instead, she just tutted. "The development grant again," she said. "We're on the cusp of being accepted, but we're not quite there yet."

"Alrighty," said Pen. "I'll get those things over to the town hall by twelve. Best of luck with the meeting."

It wasn't until the councilwoman had left that the penny dropped and Pen realized that actually, Marjorie Thurst might have given her exactly the answer she was looking for.