The positivity pebbles were an instant success with everyone, from small children to octogenarians. John arrived at the café to find three rows of painted pebbles drying in neat lines along the shelves. Two boys and a girl in blue blazers and ties had just that moment settled down with more of the stones and paint, and two hot chocolates with cream and marshmallows between them.

Annie’s heart leaped when she caught sight of John, and she had to restrain the urge to jump up and down and clap her hands together with glee. There was something about the way in which John filled a room that made her feel far younger than her forty-four years; it was like he gave off a kind of electricity and she wanted to plug herself into it. Today’s excitement was doubly palpitation-inducing because they were to discuss her offer.

Annie mentally tamped down the sixteen-year-old girl who had taken up residence in her brain and tried to smile enigmatically. John was wearing paint-splattered overalls, and he plonked an equally painty duffel bag and a large tin of white paint on the floor on the staff side of the counter.

“You’re only painting an A4-sized square,” said Annie. “Aren’t you a bit overdressed?” She was trying her best not to admit to herself that she was finding the whole dirty overalls things rather scintillating.

“I figured I may as well do the whole thing or there’ll be one super-white patch showing up the rest of the ceiling.”

“God forbid,” said Annie.

“Any chance of a coffee to take up?”

“Double-shot Americano and hot milk on the side?” said Annie.

“You remembered,” John said. Annie smiled. John leaned against the counter and surveyed the café while he waited.

A fresh Christmas tree—courtesy of the Willow Bay Stores—dripping with baubles and lights had taken up residency in the far corner of the room. It was far too big for the space. Gemma and Annie had rearranged the furniture as best they could, but still, the customers who sat at the far end of the picture window would have their shoulders consistently brushed by overfamiliar fir tree branches. But it looked magnificent and smelled even better.

Wooden painted stars and silver snowflakes on candy-cane ribbons hung at different lengths at the windows and on the middle of the window ledge; a red candle arch held seven glittering LED candles. A thick garland of dark green foliage and red holly berries fell in loose swags to the front of the counter, while above, the cables of the fishing lantern light fitting had been adorned and wrapped around with a string of gold-sprayed pine cones. The little café oozed a cluttered homespun charm, which was making customers eager to arrive and reluctant to leave.

“They’re clearly skiving,” hissed John, nodding back toward the three uniformed teens.