Page 53 of The Mended Hearts Bookshop

“Ah, right, well then, there was only one, a sister.”

Ash’s pulse sped up again. “A sister,” she said. “My aunt.”

“Aye, she would be.” Peter cleared his throat. “I, uh, I don’t really know how to say this. I feel like I’m just some harbinger of doom at the moment. The thing is, your father’s sister, she died.”

“Oh, I know,” Ash said quickly. “Don’t worry, I know that already.” She was just about to tell him that she was standing in her aunt’s bookshop, when he spoke again.

“It happened a lot in those days, of course. The late fifties were an odd time, what with the new NHS and all. We’ve come a long way since then, thankfully. Leukemia isn’t the death sentence it once was.”

“Wait,” Ash said. “Wait, she died when she was a child?”

“Yes,” he said in surprise. “I thought you knew that?”

Ash had started to shake again. “Right, of course,” she lied, just wanting to get him off the phone now. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“It’s nothing. If there’s anything else I can help with, I’m happy to. And if you’d like to return the favor, I could use your mother’s email address, there are some things I’d like to ask her for the family tree.”

Ash promised that she’d ask her mother the next time she called and hung up just as soon as she could.

And then she stood in the bookshop for what felt like hours taking in what she’d just heard. The bookshop that was indisputably really not hers at all.

PEN PUT THE teapot on the middle of the kitchen table and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Ash, I truly am. It must have been a bit of a shock.”

“Not really,” Ash said, realizing that she’d sort of been expecting this all along. “I mean, up-ending in a way, but not completely a shock.”

“I don’t really know what to say.” Pen sat down opposite her, wringing her hands, her face sad in a way that was unfamiliar and new.

“There’s nothing to say,” said Ash, picking up the teapot and pouring for them both. “I’ll call the solicitor in the morning and tell him everything and then, well, then I suppose I’ll have to pack up.”

Pen’s whole face widened, her eyes, her mouth. “No!”

“What choice do I have, come on, Pen.”

“Of course you have a choice,” Pen said.

“You just want me to stay for your own nefarious means,” said Ash, trying to make light of the situation. She leaned forward a little. “I won’t be leaving you, Pen. I hope you know that. I’llstay in touch, we can visit, I feel like we’ve just started to make a connection and I won’t walk out on it, not now.”

“That’s not at all what I’m talking about,” Pen said. She sighed. “Well, okay, maybe a little bit. You can’t just leave the shop though.”

“I can if it’s not mine,” said Ash.

“Who says it’s not yours?” Pen countered.

It was Ash’s turn to sigh. “Pen, I told you what Peter said.”

“You told me what some stranger off the internet said. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe your aunt didn’t die. Or maybe it’s not this aunt, it’s another one. Maybe Mary was your aunt by marriage, or your aunt first removed or a great aunt or… I don’t know. Just because this one alley didn’t work doesn’t mean that the whole thing is lost.”

“Pen,” Ash said gently. “I know you’re disappointed.”

“Why don’t you just leave it all alone?” Pen said, pleadingly. “Just sign the papers and get on with life. Why do you have to pick at it all? Maybe there aren’t any real answers.”

“So I should just accept the shop and what? Hope that the real heir never shows up?”

“They might not,” Pen said. “They haven’t so far, have they? And maybe you are the real heir. And even if you’re not, what difference does it make at this point?”

“A big difference if the inheritance isn’t mine,” Ash said, her voice getting tighter and louder.

“You know, some people might think that you don’t want to stay at all,” Pen said, almost snapping.

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