Chapter Six

"She's perfect," squeaked Pen, unable to contain herself.

"What exactly about her is perfect?" George said, pulling out a chair.

"Well, she's tall and dark, for a start." Pen closed her eyes and thought about her new neighbor.

Tall, thin, her hair was short and dark, curly on top, her eyes were deepest blue and her arms looked strong. She was capable and efficient, and, Pen thought, very sexy. In a sort of cool way. The kind of effortless way that meant she didn't know quite how sexy she was. It was enough to make Pen's heart quiver with excitement.

"You've literally just met her," George said. "And if my opinion counts for anything, I think she's kind of a bitch."

"George!" said Pen.

"Well, she sort of is. The way she threw you out like that, it wasn't polite. She didn't even introduce herself."

"She's tired and grieving," Pen said stoutly.

"She doesn't even know who Mary was," George protested. "How can she be grieving?"

"Mary was lovely, I'm sure… whatever her name is would be grieving if she'd known her."

"Ash," said George. "That's her name, apparently. And I'm under orders to show up tomorrow morning bright and early at nine a.m." He looked suddenly pained. "Oh god, I forgot to tell her about Fabio, do you think she'll feed him?"

"She looked very intelligent," Pen said dreamily. "Very competent, I'm sure she'll take wonderful care of Fabio."

George groaned. "Pen, you're not serious about this, are you?"

"What's not to be serious about?" Pen asked with a sniff. "Fate has thrown an attractive woman into my lap and I shall make the most of it."

"She barely gave you the time of day."

"I'll grow on her," Pen said, honestly believing that she would. She'd have to make a start on things though. She mustn't let the grass grow under her feet, not when there might be other interested parties.

"What if she's married? Or… or straight?" George asked, picking up a currant bun and putting a pound coin on the counter.

"Psh," Pen said, except now that George mentioned it, both those things could be a problem. Except… "There was no wedding ring. And everybody's a little bit gay, aren't they?"

"That seems insulting," said George through a mouthful of bun. He swallowed. "I mean, I'm not even a little bit straight. The thought of a woman with all those… curves and things." He pulled a face. "I wouldn't know what to do with a boob if it was shoved in my face."

"I would," Pen said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "And now, if you don't mind, I've got things to do, so you're going to have to entertain yourself."

"Are you throwing me out?" George asked indignantly.

"Nope, you're welcome to come and wash up after me."

"Why, what are you doing?" he asked, following her into the back.

"I thought I'd whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies, just the thing to present to a new neighbor."

George sighed. "You can't bribe people into liking you with baked goods."

"I can help things along," Pen said with a grin. "And they're baked with love, so they'll provoke love, that's what my grandma always used to say."

"Your grandma drank too much whiskey," George said, popping the rest of his bun into his mouth. "And I might as well make good use of my day off, since I've rejoined the ranks of the employed and all. I'll see you later."

"Bye," Pen said, pulling out a bag of chocolate chunks.

"Don't try too hard, Pen," George said, stepping in and giving her a hug. "You shouldn't need to try hard if she's the one for you. It should just sort of… happen."

"Wise to the ways of romance now, are you?" Pen said.

"No, but desperation isn't a good look, everybody knows that." He patted her cheek. "And you deserve good things, Pen. Whoever you finally meet should want you just as much as you want them. Don't settle for anything less."

"I'll be the picture of cool, calm, and collected, I swear," said Pen.

George rolled his eyes. "You won't. But you can try. Good luck."

THE BISCUITS SMELLED perfect, warm and comforting, and Pen licked her fingers. She'd had to sample a broken one, of course. Now she packed up the rest in a box and tied a ribbon around it just for good luck.

She wasn't being desperate, was she? Well, maybe a little bit. She was tired of being alone. All she wanted was someone to feed biscuits to, someone to talk to at the end of the day, someone to shower with love and affection, someone to complete her. Surely that wasn't asking too much.

It was true that she'd only seen the new bookshop owner for a few minutes. But what she had seen had been… well, it had been lovely. She could see Ash's long legs swung over the arm of her sofa upstairs even now. As that dark-haired head lay in her lap and they talked about the things they longed to do.

It would be terribly convenient too. Next door neighbors, and they could definitely knock through a wall, joining the bakery onto the bookshop, having a place where people could read and drink coffee.

It was too perfect for words, Pen thought to herself as she went out through the front door of the bakery and took the five steps to the bookshop.

The shop might not be open, but the door was unlocked. Pen knocked once, then pushed it open. "Hello?" she called. "Hello?"

Being surrounded by books made Pen feel safe, but then she'd always felt safe in Mary's shop. It had always smelled like paper, like stories, like love. And as much as people might scoff at a romance bookstore, the truth was that Mended Hearts had always done very well for itself. Combine the summer tourists with the online sales and Pen knew that Mary had been a very successful bookseller.

"Hello?" she tried again, peering over the counter trying to see through to the kitchen.

"What?"

Ash appeared from behind a bookshelf and Pen almost thought she might have been hiding. But what reason would she have to hide?

"I brought you these," said Pen brightly, holding out the box of biscuits. "A sort of welcome to town present. I thought what, with losing your aunt and coming all the way out here you might not have time to think about food. So…" She remembered that she wasn't supposed to be sounding desperate. "So, um, did you come far?" she tried.

Ash squinted at her. "London. I thought I told you that the shop isn't open yet."

"I'm not here to shop," Pen said, standing on one leg then the other before putting the box of biscuits down on the counter. "I just, um, wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood?"

"That's not necessary." Ash took a step forward.

She was taller than Pen had thought. A good head taller than Pen herself. And her hips were narrow in tight jeans, a shirt tucked into them. It looked like a man's shirt, thought Pen. Her mouth got a bit dry at the thought of what might be under such a shirt.

"You bastard," Ash said suddenly.

"What?" asked Pen, jumping back.

But Ash had bent over. She stood a second later holding a wriggling orange bundle.

"Ah, that would be Fabio," said Pen in relief. "He's the shop's cat. Mary spoiled him a bit, but he mostly looks after himself. He'll catch the mice around the place, but you should open a can for him once a day."

"No," said Ash.

"What?"

"No," Ash said again quite firmly.

Before Pen knew what was happening, Ash was thrusting the cat at her and she had no choice but to take him or risk being clawed to shreds. Once in her arms, Fabio settled and started purring.

"You take him," Ash said. She looked down at the box of biscuits. "And presents aren't at all necessary. Feel free to take the box back."

For a second Pen felt a sting of hurt. Then she remembered that Ash was probably tired and overwhelmed and more than a little confused, so she should be excused for not having the best manners in the world. And maybe she was suspicious of gifts. Pen supposed that Londoners probably were a bit more naturally suspicious.

She decided to smile.

Ash stared back at her.

Pen started to feel slightly uncomfortable and could feel her smile starting to tarnish slightly.

Fabio began to wriggle.

"Ah," said Pen, spotting a way out. "I can't carry the box and the cat, I'm afraid." She took a couple of steps backward. "I'll have to leave the biscuits here so you might as well enjoy them."

She felt the door against her back and scrabbled for the handle with one hand, the other arm firmly holding Fabio.

"So, I'll be next door if you need anything…" she said, trailing off as Ash raised a single eyebrow, then she escaped.

"Looks like we've both been thrown out," she said to Fabio when she got back to the bakery. She lowered him to the floor. "Go and check the flour sacks for mice."

Fabio looked up at her hopefully and she sighed.

"Fine, I'll find some food for you. But then you're on mouse watch, alright?"

He meowed in return and Pen went to the kitchen

Fabio was snuffling down his food when the front door bell chimed. Pen went into the bakery to see Moira and all four of her children, one in her arms, the other three hanging on to her wherever they could.

"Oh, Pen, I'm sorry to just appear like this. But I need to take Lea to the doctor and Mikey's not home and I thought…" she looked around at her children. "It'll just be for an hour or so."

Pen bit her lip thinking about the council catering. "I do need to get up to the town hall," she said. "I'm catering the council meeting."

"That won't be a problem," Moira said, backing toward the door. "The kids'll help. They can carry things, they're no trouble." Her eyes were pleading.

Pen saw her quiet afternoon of preparing the catering swirling down the drain. But she smiled anyway. It might be nice to have some cheerful voices around. "Alright then, glad to help."

"Thank you," said Moira, looking relieved as she disappeared out the door.

Pen watched her go as she handed each child a small cinnamon bun. Just before she turned away from the window, Ash came out of next door, locking the door behind her before loping off easily down the high street.

And Pen was sure that her heart skipped a beat as Ash disappeared around a corner.