Chapter Twenty Two

Fabio meowed and Ash dumped an open can of cat food onto a plate. Before she could put it on the floor, the cat had pounced on it, lapping at it on the kitchen table.

"You really do have a cheek, do you know that?" Ash said. Fabio didn't even look up at her.

The shop was open, George was filling the online orders downstairs, the sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day. Beautiful enough that Ash just couldn't stop thinking about Pen. About the way she smiled, the way she felt.

This really was something, Ash thought. She hadn't understood for so long what other people wanted, and now she felt, well, normal wasn't the right word really, but something along those lines. How odd that what she'd really needed was someone else.

She picked up her tea and headed into the shop. It was quiet, but the bookclub would be in tonight. She blew on her mug as she switched on the computer. The smell of books was everywhere, papery and warm and as Ash sipped her tea and waited for the computer to prepare itself, she seriously wondered for the first time if she could stay here.

Stay here and run a bookshop.

After all, she hadn't had any disasters so far, had she? It didn't seem that hard. She had the financial stuff covered, obviously. George could help with most of the rest. And Pen… Pen could be next door and available and there whenever Ash wanted her.

She smiled to herself. It sounded like some kind of dream world. An unrealistic, silly world where suddenly people could just do as they liked.

She had no business running a bookshop.

She clicked through some emails until she got to one that she didn't recognize. She had a message on one of the genealogy sites she'd registered with. With a frown, she opened up the site, found the message box, and read what she'd been left. She glanced up at the top of the message, seeing a green dot. The user who had sent the message was online.

Quickly, she typed, her fingers flying over the keys, leaving her phone number and a short message of her own.

Then she waited, staring at her phone. Maybe he wouldn't call. Probably he wouldn't. Who would call a stranger from the internet? She certainly wouldn't.

Her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello," drawled a soft Scottish accent. "This is Peter, from the site?" He gave a soft chuckle. "By my reckonings, I'm your first cousin, first removed."

"Right," said Ash. "I'm not actually sure what that means."

"Well, I'm your grandma's brother's son." He paused for a moment. "And you're Allan's girl, are you?"

"Allan?"

"Your father?"

Ash's heart filled up a little and she was starting to feel shaky. "You know him?" She wasn't sure how she felt about that, what she wanted to know or not know. Her father had never been anything to her.

"Not really, love, I'm sorry if that comes as a disappointment. I've been doing this genealogy thing for a while now. My wife got me into it, got me one of those testing kits for Christmas a few years ago, and I've been working on a family tree ever since. Gives me something to do since my retirement, you know?"

Ash let her breath go. Okay, no imminent danger of a long lost father walking into her life. "Must be interesting," she said.

"Aye. Well, as far as I can see, your father disappeared. He went off to America in the mid eighties, that must have been right after you were born. And that's the last anyone heard of him."

"Right," Ash said. "I see." It was better that way, she instinctively knew. She had little desire to meet someone who'd left her and her mother so easily. "Actually, it's more my dad's siblings I'm interested in."

"Ah, right, well then, there was only one, a sister."

Ash's pulse sped up again. "A sister," she said. "My aunt."

"Aye, she would be." Peter cleared his throat. "I, uh, I don't really know how to say this. I feel like I'm just some harbinger of doom at the moment. The thing is, your father's sister, she died."

"Oh, I know," Ash said quickly. "Don't worry, I know that already." She was just about to tell him that she was standing in her aunt's bookshop, when he spoke again.

"It happened a lot in those days, of course. The late fifties were an odd time, what with the new NHS and all. We've come a long way since then, thankfully. Leukemia isn't the death sentence it once was."

"Wait," Ash said. "Wait, she died when she was a child?"

"Yes," he said in surprise. "I thought you knew that?"

Ash had started to shake again. "Right, of course," she lied, just wanting to get him off the phone now. "Thank you so much for your help."

"It's nothing. If there's anything else I can help with, I'm happy to. And if you'd like to return the favor, I could use your mother's email address, there are some things I'd like to ask her for the family tree."

Ash promised that she'd ask her mother the next time she called and hung up just as soon as she could.

And then she stood in the bookshop for what felt like hours taking in what she'd just heard. The bookshop that was indisputably really not hers at all.

PEN PUT THE teapot on the middle of the kitchen table and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Ash, I truly am. It must have been a bit of a shock."

"Not really," Ash said, realizing that she'd sort of been expecting this all along. "I mean, up-ending in a way, but not completely a shock."

"I don't really know what to say." Pen sat down opposite her, wringing her hands, her face sad in a way that was unfamiliar and new.

"There's nothing to say," said Ash, picking up the teapot and pouring for them both. "I'll call the solicitor in the morning and tell him everything and then, well, then I suppose I'll have to pack up."

Pen's whole face widened, her eyes, her mouth. "No!"

"What choice do I have, come on, Pen."

"Of course you have a choice," Pen said.

"You just want me to stay for your own nefarious means," said Ash, trying to make light of the situation. She leaned forward a little. "I won't be leaving you, Pen. I hope you know that. I'll stay in touch, we can visit, I feel like we've just started to make a connection and I won't walk out on it, not now."

"That's not at all what I'm talking about," Pen said. She sighed. "Well, okay, maybe a little bit. You can't just leave the shop though."

"I can if it's not mine," said Ash.

"Who says it's not yours?" Pen countered.

It was Ash's turn to sigh. "Pen, I told you what Peter said."

"You told me what some stranger off the internet said. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe your aunt didn't die. Or maybe it's not this aunt, it's another one. Maybe Mary was your aunt by marriage, or your aunt first removed or a great aunt or… I don't know. Just because this one alley didn't work doesn't mean that the whole thing is lost."

"Pen," Ash said gently. "I know you're disappointed."

"Why don't you just leave it all alone?" Pen said, pleadingly. "Just sign the papers and get on with life. Why do you have to pick at it all? Maybe there aren't any real answers."

"So I should just accept the shop and what? Hope that the real heir never shows up?"

"They might not," Pen said. "They haven't so far, have they? And maybe you are the real heir. And even if you're not, what difference does it make at this point?"

"A big difference if the inheritance isn't mine," Ash said, her voice getting tighter and louder.

"You know, some people might think that you don't want to stay at all," Pen said, almost snapping.

Ash shook her head. "This is all like a dream," she said, remembering what she'd been thinking earlier. "It's lovely and nice and even the town is idyllic, but dreams end, Pen. You have to wake up."

"So you're accusing me of being a fantasist?"

"Aren't you?" Ash was getting angry now. "This isn't your decision to make, Pen. Which is a good thing, since apparently you seem to think that committing fraud is an appropriate thing to do."

"That's not what I said at all," said Pen. Her cheeks were flushed. "There's uncertainty here, even you can see that."

"And you're recommending that I just ignore it and… what? Hope that the best happens and the worst doesn't?"

"The best might happen if you ever give it a chance to," said Pen. "But you never do." She stood up. "And that's because you don't want to stay here anyway, you don't want to have ties here."

"I don't want to live in a dream and be afraid of waking up every second," snapped Ash, standing up too, leaning on the kitchen table.

"Then maybe you should think about what you do want," Pen said. She took one last look at Ash and then turned and walked away.

Ash heard the shop bell dinging as Pen left.

She groaned and bent over, laying her head on the table.

She really hadn't meant to argue with Pen. She'd needed to talk to someone, needed someone to tell her what to do. But of course Pen would want her to stay, would want her to take the bright road.

But Ash really didn't know if she could do that. She didn't know if she could accept something that she didn't know was really hers.

And, to be completely honest, she didn't know if she could stay here or have ties here or anything else. Having the inheritance taken away would make that decision for her. Without it, she could go back to London and have her old life back.