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The cat gave her a baleful glare before strolling off into the shadows.

The smaller boxes held letters, mostly bills and financial things, and pictures. Ash flipped through them but didn’t recognize anything. Not that she would. She’d never even seen a photo of her father, so she couldn’t identify him if he was in any of them.

The only face that was starting to look familiar was Mary’s. And Ash found that she was beginning to be curious about the woman herself. Really curious. Who was she? How did someone so… unromantic looking end up running a romance bookshop?

Was it just a case of being a good entrepreneur? Maybe Mary herself was no fan of romance, but the business was such a good one that it didn’t matter?

She flicked through the photos again.

It wasn’t just the business, she realized as she watched Mary’s face. It was the fact that she was happy. Really happy. You could tell just by looking at her that Mary was content and comfortable in who and what she was, in her role in life. That she was alone, Ash saw no signs of any serious relationships, but not lonely.

That was what was speaking to her. She could see herself in Mary, just a touch, yet Mary seemed to have this big life, this happy life, and Ash wondered just how she did it.

And from there she wondered where Mary had come from, and from there she started to think about herself and where she’d come from. It all came back down to her father.

Alright, she could excuse all this by pretending that she wanted to make sure that the inheritance was hers by right. But it was also a question of finding herself.

She put the boxes away and the cat appeared again, meowing at her before standing in front of the hole in the floor that led down again.

“I’m not carrying you,” Ash said.

The cat looked at her.

She sighed and picked him up. She couldn’t have him running around all by himself upstairs. The noise would keep her awake.

She was carrying him down the ladder when she heard knocking on the front door. Who could it be now? The shop was closed for the day, George had left, she’d been promising herself a walk on the beach. Interruptions were not welcome.

She deposited the cat on the landing, pushed the attic ladder up, and closed the hatch before she went down to the shop.

There she found two faces peering through the window, hands cupped around their eyes trying to see inside.

“Jesus Christ,” she groaned.

“It’s us, let us in,” George said.

Ash hesitated. If she stayed very still, maybe they’d think she was out.

“We can see you,” Pen said, her nose smushed against the glass. “I’ve got brownies.”

Ash gritted her teeth and went to the door, unlocking it and yanking it open. “I do wish you’d stop trying to bribe me with baked goods, it won’t work.”

“What makes you think it’s bribery?” Pen said, with wide innocent blue eyes.

“Isn’t it?” Ash asked.

Pen wrinkled her nose. “Well, perhaps in this case it sort of might be?”

“It definitely is,” George said. “But on the bright side, Pen’s brownies are amazing.”

Ash sighed and rubbed her eyes. “You’re not going to go away, are you?”

“Um, not really,” said Pen. “Not until we’ve talked to you anyway.”

Ash ran her tongue over her teeth. “If I let you in here, you’ve got five minutes to say your piece and then you’re to leave me alone. The shop’s closed and I have things to do.” Like trying to figure out who my father is. Huh. She hadn’t realized she’d decided that. And trying to figure out how Mary made such a nice life for herself being alone.

Not everyone had to get married. She’d explained that to her mother countless times, not that she listened. Ash had never had that girlish desire to march down the aisle. Nor, apparently, had Mary. Which made Ash want to get to know her better, because as far as she could tell, most everyone else in the world wanted to be with someone.

She eyed Pen who was practically jumping up and down with excitement, then George, who was looking at her with puppy dog eyes. If she let them in she could perhaps tease a little more information out of them about her alleged aunt.