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Ash gave another sigh. “Because, I suppose, I saw something in Mary that I’d have liked for myself. It’s hard to explain. She was alone and yet not alone, she was so happy in every picture I saw of her.”

“Probably because we don’t tend to take pictures of the sad times,” said Pen. “Though Mary was a pretty happy person. She was never alone though, not really. She had a whole town full of family, even if we weren’t blood relatives.”

“I guess.”

“And that made you jealous?” suggested Pen.

Ash nodded.

“You don’t have to be alone though, Ash. Not if you don’t want to be. I mean, it seems like you’ve set things up so that you can be alone and I don’t really understand why.”

“Because it was easier,” Ash said, stopping again and looking out over angry gray waves. “Because I didn’t fit in, I never did, and when you don’t fit in, you have two choices. You can pretend to fit in and fake it, or you can pretend that you never wanted to fit in in the first place and spend your time alone.”

Pen let go of Ash’s hand and moved her arm up so that their arms were linked, their bodies closer. “There’s a third choice. You could find another place to fit in, one that’s better for you. We’re not always born into the place where we fit, or around people we fit with, sometimes you have to go out and find it. Actually, quite often you have to go out and find it.”

“Not you,” Ash pointed out. “You seem pretty happy here.”

“I was lucky,” said Pen.

“And what does that feel like? To be lucky?” Ash asked.

Pen moved around so that her arms were around Ash’s waist. “Why don’t you tell me? I mean, you washed up here eventually, that’s pretty lucky. You inherited a whole building with a bookshop, that’s quite lucky too, isn’t it? I think luck is how you look at things.”

This time, Ash didn’t stop herself. She leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Pen’s soft and cool lips, letting herself properly taste what she was doing, drinking it in for a long minute as the gulls cawed above them.

“You get to kiss me,” Pen grinned as Ash pulled back. “That’s lucky too.”

“We’ll need some of that luck when we go to this council meeting on Friday,” Ash said, taking Pen’s hand and walking on.

“It’ll all be fine,” said Pen. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Doesn’t that constant optimism ever get old?”

“Nope,” Pen laughed. “Besides, I don’t see another way to be. I mean, I suppose I could walk around expecting the worst all the time, but then I’m not sure I’d be able to get out of bed in the morning.”

“Maybe don’t expect the worst, maybe just be realistic?” suggested Ash.

“But the best case scenario is just as realistic as any other outcome,” Pen argued. “And whilst we’re discussing best case scenario, there’s something that I’ve noticed.”

“Which is?”

“The numbers you’ve given me, the presentation for the council, it all involves the bookshop.”

“Mmm,” agreed Ash. “Since I, as a pessimist, loner, and general grump am the last person on earth that should be running a romance bookstore, as I’m sure we can all agree on.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You might be a grump but you’ve got a squishy inside like one of those chocolates.”

Ash rolled her eyes. “I swear to god, if you say that to anyone else...”

“Your secret is safe with me,” said Pen. “And, back to the subject at hand, my point is not that the presentation talks only about the bookshop, it’s that it doesn’t mention the flat above the bookshop.”

“Ah,” said Ash. She’d been wondering when Pen was going to mention this and had equally been wondering just what she was going to say when asked.

Pen cleared her throat. “I, um, I was wondering if that meant something.”

“It means that selling a private flat to the council would probably be a tough ask,” Ash said. “You want to get them interested in the business, which is what we’re doing. And I’ve got to say, you’re a lot more optimistic about that than I am.”

“I told you, something will turn up,” said Pen. “If the council won’t give us this grant then we’ll run the world’s biggest jumble sale or something. It’ll be fine.”