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She went out into the front, George trailing her, and put the coffee machine on.

“There’ll be someone soon,” she said comfortingly.

“There’d better be. Apart from anything else, I’ve got bills to pay.”

“You could come and help around here,” Pen said.

“With the millions of customers that you’ve got?” He grinned at her and pressed the button on the machine to deliver caffeine. “Nah, I’m alright for a wee while yet. I’m just… anxious I suppose. I mean, Mary’s the only person I’ve ever worked for. What if the new boss is… not nice.”

“What if the new boss is a tall, dark handsome man who sweeps you off your feet?” Pen asked, picking up two cups and carrying them over to one of the small round tables by the window.

“What if the boss is a tall, dark, beautiful woman who sweeps you off your feet?” asked George in return.

“Then I shall gladly be swept,” Pen returned with a grin. “I mean, there aren’t that many options in town.”

“And you’ve been through most of them.”

“Cheeky,” she said. Though it was true. She had, as far as she knew, dated every woman with an inclination toward women. Which was three women. Three. She’d been determinedly single for the last half decade and not through choice.

“You could try online dating,” said George, sitting down and picking up his cup.

“With what time exactly? Between running around here, going to council meetings and looking after you, I don’t have time to worry about that sort of thing.” She picked up her own cup. “Unless that sort of thing moves next door. That would be quite convenient.”

George sighed. “Whoever inherits the place might want to sell it. Or close it.”

“It’s a bookshop, who wouldn’t want to own a bookshop?” She sipped her coffee. “Plus, it’s a romance bookshop. Come on, you’d need a heart of steel to sell a romance bookshop.”

The bell over the front door dinged and Pen turned around.

“Oh, hello Moira, help you?”

A harried looking woman smiled at her. “Just a small loaf.”

“Help yourself,” said Pen. “Take one of the big ones though, no extra charge. They’re going to get stale so someone might as well make use of them.”

Moira hesitated for only a second before picking up a large loaf from one of the baskets by the counter. “If you’re sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Pen grinned. “No one wants to waste food. Be off with you, just put a pound on the counter.”

“You’ll bankrupt yourself,” George said when the door closed behind Moira.

“She’s got four little ones under five, she could use the extra money,” Pen said. “And it does no harm to be kind, does it?”

George sighed. “I suppose not.” He looked out of the window onto the little high street with its assortment of shops. “Do you ever wish life was different?”

Pen, who had lived in Tetherington her entire life, laughed. “Different? From what? You might go chasing differences, but it’ll all end up the same. Besides, what have we got to complain about? We live in a nice town with nice people and we all look after each other. Better than living in London or the like. Nobody knowing anybody, it must be chaos down there.”

“I don’t know, the chances of meeting a dark, handsome stranger are probably a bit higher.”

“So are the chances of meeting a dark, handsome murderer,” Pen laughed.

George turned to her with faked shock. “Penelope Robson, was that… was that cynicism?”

“Not a jot,” she said, draining her cup and standing up. “But you’re talking nonsense. You’re just upset about the shop and about Mary, we all are. Things are changing and change makes people uncomfortable, out of sorts. It’ll all settle down again, don’t you worry.” She took his cup from him. “The offer stands though. If you need work or a couch to stay on.”

“You’re too generous for your own good,” he said, standing up and stretching. “But thanks. You’re right. It’s nice to be looked after, nice to know that whatever happens there’s someone here. Even if that someone couldn’t possibly afford to pay me.”

“What do you know about my finances?” Pen asked, feeling a slight squirm in her belly.