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‘Do you think he’s a new tenant?’ Noémi asked, unsure how she felt about the prospect. It didn’t look good to have an empty shop next to hers, but right then, she didn’t need any more competition. What if he sold something similar? Or something better? She shook her head. Obviously, there was nothing better than books. But not everybody knew that.

‘We’ve no idea,’ said Carrie. ‘But the more the merrier.’

‘Especially if he’s Hottie Totty.’ Spirit guffawed. ‘I dare someone to write that on his blackboard, if he does move in.’

‘Everyone – keep a lookout,’ said Daniel. ‘This might become an interesting week.’

Noémi rolled her eyes. She could just imagine him gawking out of the window in search of handsome strangers.

‘Did I miss something?’ asked Chai, returning with Spirit’s second coffee.

‘Hot guy moving in next to the bookshop,’ said Carrie.

‘We know nothing of the sort,’ Noémi clarified. ‘Just the usual street gossip.’

Spirit thanked Chai for the drink. ‘Don’t suppose you have any decent cookies to dunk?’

‘Nope,’ said Chai, pointedly. ‘Nobody needs to taste my baking.’

All eyes swivelled to Noémi. Not this again.

‘I sell books now,’ said Noémi, with a sigh. It wasn’t as if Chai couldn’t buy some in like she did with flapjacks, and those perfectly nice cupcakes with the Smarties on top.

‘Well, you’re clearly not selling enough of them,’ said Catherine, eyeballing her daringly from over the top of her quirky crochet masterpiece. ‘No harm in diversifying. We peddle everything from clay penises to knitted nanna scarves. And I’m sure more visitors used to stop here when there were award-winning cookies to be sampled.’

‘Selling books and cookies isn’t a thing,’ Noémi said, more firmly. Though she hadn’t always felt that way.

‘You had a way of making mouths water,’ Catherine ploughed onwards. ‘And you always knew what people would like, or what they needed. Like that lady from the film Chocolat, but the baked-goods version.’

‘It was a book before it was a film,’ said Noémi. But she knew she was deflecting.

‘You sold those creations from your soul,’ said Chai, putting a hand on her heart and sounding a little mystical.

Selling baked goods from her soul? Noémi had heard it all now.

‘Books too,’ Daniel added. ‘When your heart was in it. You seemed to know exactly which story people needed.’

‘Imagine if you could pair them,’ said Spirit, clearly getting pulled along by the ludicrousness. ‘Like wine and cheese or beer and pork scratchings. Cookies and books.’

‘Sounds messy,’ said Noémi, standing up quickly and checking her watch.

She didn’t bake anymore. When would they take the hint? She couldn’t explain it because she knew it barely made sense. She hadn’t made a single cookie since they’d lost Asher, and it felt almost disrespectful to consider it. Baking had always felt like a pleasure, an indulgence, a celebration of life. Sweet, decadent, and promising. Noémi felt too ashamed to even consider it.

Asher had been Daniel’s husband. His love. They’d run their own boutique travel agency and had been so adventurous – often trying new experiences so they could recommend things to their customers. Then one weekend on a clifftop hiking trip in Cornwall, there had been an accident. Asher had ignored all guidance and skirted dangerously close to the edge to see the view. And then he’d slipped. The rocks beneath his feet had fallen. And so had he.

Noémi felt her insides plummet every time she thought of it – because she’d been with them that December weekend. It had been devastating. Worse still, it had been a cold and windy day, and she’d decided to stay at the hotel and read her latest festive novel in the warmth. How she wished she’d managed to persuade them to do the same. Instead, she’d hugged them and packed them off with a rucksack full of Christmas cookies.

The guilt of it.

Asher had apparently been carrying the rucksack when he’d fallen. Noémi had filled it with several boxes of new flavours she’d wanted Daniel and Asher to try. On their return, she’d been set to tell them about her plans to combine her love of books and baking by reinventing her shop as The Cosy Cookie Bookshop. She’d already had a new sign made, envisaging a space filled with joy, possibility, and the sweet, intoxicating smells of baking. Where she would ease troubles, heal hearts, and make the world a better place.

But only one of them had come back.

It had been a fanciful idea. Foolish, perhaps. As if she could fix anyone’s woes with a plate of damned biscuits. She hadn’t even been able to eat the things since that day, let alone bake them – even if the thought sometimes infiltrated her dreams.

No. She wasn’t going to give in to those thoughts or anyone’s similar suggestions. If it hadn’t been for her wild ideas that were quite literally too big to carry, perhaps Asher wouldn’t have lost his balance and fallen. The inquest might have concluded that Asher’s death was accidental – and deep down, she knew it must have been. But that didn’t take away her fears and what-ifs.

‘It’s nearly time to open up.’ Noémi changed the subject, adding a smile which she knew hadn’t reached her eyes.