Page 16 of The Christmas Cookie Bookshop

‘You should charge her rent on that seat,’ Daniel whispered, when he’d served tea. ‘And snack charges. Not to mention that we’re not a library.’

‘But look at them,’ Noémi whispered back, as Felix rearranged Mrs Jingleman’s cushion and brought her a footstool while she tried to hide her blush. They didn’t know much about her, other than she was widowed and she used to be a midwife – though Noémi wasn’t convinced about her bedside manner. ‘How could I deny this slow-burn love story?’

Daniel nearly choked on his deep-filled mince pie. ‘I thought you were off the L-word – unless it was with a certain Fantasy Man you’ll never meet.’

‘Which is the safest way.’ She squeezed his arm, her gaze on his. Those warm brown eyes that used to be so much happier.

‘You can’t let what happened to me keep you stuck, Mi-Mi,’ he said gently, using the nickname he reserved for when he was treading with care.

‘I’m not,’ she lied, though she knew it wouldn’t convince him.

‘Asher fell. To say it was the worst, most soul-crushing time of my life feels like an understatement. And a lot of darkness followed. But he’s gone and he’s not coming back. That’s my loss.’ He placed his fingers under her drooping chin and lifted it. ‘Don’t make it yours.’

She and Daniel had both had counselling to help them through the aftermath, though there were some parts that would probably never heal. It had been torture enough to witness her best friend’s heartbreak, and to feel just a fraction of what he’d been through. She never wanted to love and lose like that, so it was better not to love at all. Stories existed so you could learn from them – and Daniel’s was her cautionary tale.

‘It’s safe to love, Mi-Mi. It’s safe to have dreams and live life and feel all the things. Asher would want us to move on, not shuffle around like a pair of zombies, missing all the good bits.’

Noémi felt a sob rise in her throat and she didn’t even bother to keep it down. She made a grab for her trusty bra-strap tissue.

‘I am living,’ she promised Daniel, who had tears in his eyes too. ‘Even if it’s in less adventurous ways. I’m doing things in the best way I know how. And look at us go.’ She nodded around the shop. ‘We’re making changes, even though it feels a little scary. We promised ourselves this wouldn’t be another wretched Christmas, like the last two. Somehow, I’ve got to make this work.’

Daniel busied himself with pulling a hanky from his waistcoat pocket and Noémi didn’t take time to dwell on whether he looked a touch doubtful. Luckily, Felix was still fussing around Mrs Jingleman, and the elderly lady was deep into her own land of stories.

Noémi was in the shop’s downstairs kitchen when she logged in to speak to Fantasy Man that evening. She sat on the worktop wolfing down beans on toast, which she’d made more festive with a sprinkling of blue cheese.

There’d been a time when she used to bake down here, at first with her mum, then on her own. Her mum’s speciality had been madeleines – the little French sponge cakes shaped like pretty shells – which she would dust with powdered sugar. Noémi had memories of being allowed to lick the wooden spoon, the kitchen filled with the sweet smell of vanilla and ground almonds. Élisabeth had offered the cakes to customers – another warm gesture that had kept people coming back. Noémi had once dreamed of making cookies in this kitchen to sell in the shop. She’d got the necessary permissions and food hygiene certificates, back then. Though now it was just a space to grab tea, snacks, and the occasional quick meal for one.

Her heart soared, as it always did, when she saw Fantasy Man was online.

Book Girl:

Did you ever have a big dream?

Fantasy Man:

I see you’re going straight in with the huge life questions today! Hi, Book Girl. How was your day?

And big dreams. Hmm. More peace in the world? Less people wearing sliders and white socks? (And don’t get me started on boat shoes. Where’s their boat?) Maybe I’m just not cool enough.