Page 18 of The Mended Hearts Bookshop

Mr. Gupta chuckled and left, holding the door open for Moira Hadley. “Pen, I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday, you were a life saver.”

“Not a problem,” Pen said, thinking about the pleasant couple of hours she’d spent making sandwiches while the children colored. “I’m happy to step in any time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Moira said, ducking back out of the shop with a smile.

Pen started to arrange pastries on the shelves, sliding things forward so that they looked neater. She sighed as she did so, because this wasn’t quite what she wanted.

At the beginning, when she’d used the small inheritance her mother had left her to buy the bakery, she’d made everything by hand. Everything. She’d prided herself on it. Nowadays, there were plenty of products here that she had to buy frozen and bake. The croissants, for example.

She just didn’t have the time or the money to do things the way she wanted.

Not that she planned on letting that stop her. The bakery was a lovely place to be, and she was proud of it. She was certain that one day something would show up. Maybe she’d win the lottery, she played faithfully every week. Or maybe, she thought with a flip of her stomach, she’d fall in love with a rich stranger.

Was Ash rich?

She looked well dressed enough. But it was so hard to tell. Even if she weren’t rich, there was a lot to be said about her. About those narrow hips and those wide eyes and the way she brushed her short hair off her forehead.

Mind you, there were equally plenty of not so positive things to say about her. Like the fact that she kept throwing Pen out of the shop even though it was now clearly open.

Pen was determinedly not losing hope though. She’d seen Ash slope away to the beach last night, had followed her as far as the promenade where she’d watched as Ash strode along the sand. And as Pen had turned away to head to her crochet circle at the pub, she’d thought that anyone who liked to walk by the sea had to have some romance in them.

Perhaps working at Mended Hearts would rub off on Ash. Perhaps it would soften her. Perhaps when she got used to thingsand had settled in the corners would get knocked off and she’d change her mind.

“I’m dying of thirst,” said a voice as the door opened.

“Then allow me to sustain you,” Pen said as George draped himself over the counter. “Things not going well, I take it?”

“If you consider the shop getting sold from under my feet and me becoming unemployed for the second time in a week not going well, then no, they’re not.”

Pen switched the coffee machine on. “She’s going to change her mind, George, she’ll fall in love with the town, with the shop, and she’ll change her mind.”

“She’ll fall in love with you, you mean,” George said, getting his own cup from the stack by the machine. “And she’s not going to change her mind. You haven’t spent as much time with her as I have. She’s… I don’t know.”

“She’s what?” Pen prompted.

“She’s… strict. Cold. I don’t know. It’s like she only thinks about things, not about people. The only non-business related thing she’s asked me all morning was about Mary, and she didn’t seem especially satisfied with my answer when I told her Mary was nice.”

“So, she’s interested in her aunt, that’s good, we can use that,” Pen said.

“We can lure her with songs of her lost family, like sirens or something?” George said, rolling his eyes. “She’s not like you, Pen. She’s not a romantic. She’s a realist.”

“I’m a realist,” Pen protested, handing George his coffee. “I don’t live in a fantasy world.”

The shop bell dinged. “Morning, Pen.”

“Morning, Elspeth,” Pen said to the cheerful red-head. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m just in for those cakes for the kids.”

“Oh, right you are,” said Pen, pulling out the cardboard box that she’d filled earlier. “On break time, are they?”

“They are,” agreed Elspeth. “And they’re right little heathens today, I tell you. Twenty-five five-year-olds and they’ve all got the devil in them. I’m hoping the cakes will work as some kind of reward system and keep them behaving.”

“What have you got them doing?” Pen asked as she taped the box up.

“We’re working on our community project for the term,” Elspeth said, holding down the flaps so Pen could tape them better. “We’re going to plant a garden and then sell the vegetables to raise money for some new playground equipment. But all these kids know about nowadays is fast food. They’ve asked me if we can grow tacos twice already this morning.”

Pen laughed. “Still, it’ll be good for them,” she said, pushing the box toward the teacher. “Enjoy.”

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