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“It’s only your first night back, it’s natural that you’ll be missing us all,” Pen said. “I’m sure everything will go back to normal soon. You’ll be busy with work and, well, whatever else it is you do.”

Which wasn’t much now that Ash thought about it. “I suppose you’ll be off to basket weaving or church choir or something tonight?”

“It’s crochet circle in half an hour,” said Pen. “We’ll all sit around making complicated knots together, you’d hate it.”

“Alright then, I’ll let you go,” said Ash. “I just wanted you to know that I was thinking of you.”

“And I’m glad to know it,” Pen said.

When the phone was hung up and Pen’s voice was gone, the flat seemed even emptier than before. Ash sighed and picked up her book from the kitchen counter. She might as well go to bed and read. The quiet was too hard to hear.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Pen put her elbows on the counter and leaned her chin in her hands. The sun was shining through the window and the morning rush was over, which meant there was nothing to distract her at all. And she needed distraction. If she wasn’t busy, all she did was think about Ash. About the way her hair fell over her eyebrow, the way she rolled her eyes, the way she smelled and tasted and felt.

It was hard enough when there were other people around, but when she was alone it was even worse.

“Meow,” Fabio said, rolling on the floor in front of the counter.

“Sorry, bud, you don’t count,” she said, then felt bad about it. She was about to go and stroke his belly when the bakery door opened.

“Pen, just who I wanted to see,” Councilwoman Thurst said, marching in.

Pen refrained from asking her who the hell else she thought she’d find in the bakery, after all, she was the only one workinghere. Instead, she straightened up, smiled, and asked how she could help.

“I thought I’d come and tell you the news myself,” the councilwoman said, iron gray curls bobbing as she talked. “The council has come to a decision.”

“About?” Pen asked, one eye on Fabio as he slunk around the corner into the kitchen.

“About the bookshop that you were so very eager to buy,” Thurst said, raising an eyebrow at Pen.

“Oh, right,” Pen said, snapping back to attention. She really wasn’t herself today. “Sorry, it’s been a tough week and I’m distracted.”

“Be that as it may, this is important business,” said Thurst. "As I said, the council has come to a decision and we have decided that the development grant will be awarded elsewhere.”

Pen swallowed, the bottom finally falling out of her little world. She should never have been so hopeful. If she hadn’t been hopeful, this wouldn’t hurt as much. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter and the councilwoman’s face softened.

“I’m sorry, Pen. I know that you were hoping for a different answer. But the truth of the matter is that we just couldn’t justify buying the place. It’s a private business and there are things our community needs more.”

“I understand,” Pen said, stomach sinking, the sun disappearing behind a cloud.

“I’ve shopped at Mended Hearts enough in my time,” Thurst said. “And I don’t want it leaving the town anymore than you do, Pen. But the money is going to go to a new children’s center, a place that children can go to after school when parents are still working, or a drop in where they can be left safely for a few hours. Surely you can agree that’s important?”

Pen, thinking of Moira Hadley, nodded. “It is, it really is.”

Thurst stepped closer to the counter. “The council can’t be seen to fund the purchase of a private shop. But perhaps there are other things we could do? The shop is a part of our town, maybe you can talk to Sarah Hanson about taking up a collection for the place. Or talk to the vicar about running a fundraiser.”

“It’s a lot of money, Marjorie,” Pen said dismally.

“But you have a lot of hope,” Thurst said, eyes twinkling a little. “With some determination and effort maybe you can save the place, if that’s what you truly want?”

Pen sighed.

“I’ll take three of those buns, if you please,” Thurst said.

Pen served her and then watched as she left, heart falling as she realized that everything she’d hoped for over the last few weeks was really gone.

“WHAT ARE YOU doing?” Lucy asked when she came into the shop to find Pen with a cloth in her hand washing the inside of the windows.