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“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. “Thedevelopment 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.

Chapter Eleven