“I was thinking of taking my clothes off.” Lisa gave another weak smile. “Just kidding. That would scare them away. I did think of putting a sign up by the ferry if they’d let me, but then I decided it wouldn’t help. Folks just want to head to the beach. And you know what the weather is like in this place—it’s sunny now, but we get our share of fog and rain, and then people are thinking about shelter, not ice cream. They want something to do with fractious children.”

Still thinking, Emily turned. “Fractious children?”

“Yes. You’re stuck in a rental property or a hotel watching the rain sheet down or trying to see through mist thicker than the steam from a kettle. You put on the same DVD and then the kids start fighting, and it’s all ‘Mom, I’m bored.’ Puffin Island is an outdoor place. There’s stuff you can do in the rain, but drying clothes every day can be exhausting.”

Emily strolled across the room, her mind exploring various options. Usually she worked as part of a team of people, and the businesses were large corporations. Her contribution merged with those of others, like a single drop of rain blending with the ocean, unidentifiable and yet still part of the whole. “You have plenty of space.”

“It needs redecorating, but I don’t have the funds for it and I can’t afford to close while it’s done.”

“Maybe we could do something imaginative with the space. Something that encourages people to come in when it’s raining. Offer something they can’t get anywhere else on the island.”

“I don’t have the cash to invest in a new venture.”

“It won’t be a new venture. Just a few additions to the old one. Tell me about the business itself. Who do you rent the building from?”

“Someone who knows how to bleed a person dry.”

“And how many different types of ice cream do you stock?”

“Thirty, but not all of them sell well.”

“Thirty?” It sounded like a lot to Emily. Her head was crowded with ideas and questions. “We need to start at the beginning. Those figures that kept you up all night. Would you share them with me?” Back in her comfort zone, she knew what was needed. Here, finally, was something she knew how to do. “If you’re willing to share it, I’d like everything you can give me on your business. Turnover, profit, loss—any information you have.”

Lisa blinked. “If you give me your email address I’ll send some spreadsheets to you. There isn’t much profit.”

“Yet.” Emily scribbled down her email. “We’re going to change that.”

“Do you really think you might be able to help?”