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“Not exactly,” said Pen. “The community. We, um, we don’t have an exact plan yet, and we want to do this properly. We just sort of want the right of first refusal when you sell. If, um, well, if you could see your way to sticking around Tetherington for a little while longer that is.”

Ash looked from one to the other.

It would be easier in the long run, she thought. Having a buyer already lined up. And it was no skin off her nose. If the two of them couldn’t come up with the money, she could always sell to someone else.

It would give her time to find out a little more about Mary. About her father.

She sniffed. “What’s in it for me?”

“As many baked goods as you can eat?” offered Pen with a hopeful look on her face.

“And the shop practically runs itself, so you’ll be making money while you wait,” added George.

The cat strolled into the kitchen and hopped up on the table, giving the brownies a desultory sniff before going over to headbutt Pen.

“You take the cat,” Ash said.

“This is his home,” George protested.

“You take the cat and I’ll give you three months to come up with the money.”

Three months would be long enough. Long enough to find out what she needed to. Long enough to figure out if she could live in a town like this, if she wanted to live by the sea instead of in London. Maybe long enough for Amanda Brown and family to forget that she existed and never invite her for dinner again.

Pen jumped up from her chair and came around the table. “It’s a deal,” she squealed.

And before Ash knew what was happening she was being squashed against a prodigious bosom and practically suffocated in a sweet-smelling hug.

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.”