“Why didn’t you do this last year?” Mallory asked as she loaded up another tray in the kitchen. Olivia had spent the last forty-eight hours elbow-deep in flour; she’d even dreamed of shortcrust pastry last night. It had been more of a nightmare, with the pastry falling apart in her hands time and time again, and she’d actually woken up in a cold sweat, relieved that it was nothing but a dream, and about pastry at that.

“I didn’t think of it,” she told Mallory, “and more’s the pity.” Last year she had been focused on Alice and Henry’s wedding, and transferring the business from her mother’s name to her own. She hadn’t thought beyond either of those things. “Hopefully it will become a tradition now, along with the evening I’m planning next week.” She’d fanned out the invitations by the front door, the red and green lettering promising plenty of Christmas treats, a quiz, and carol singing.

“It should become a tradition,” Tina volunteered from her place at a table, where she was sticking cloves in several oranges to add to the spicy and festive scent of the shop. “I’m ashamed I never thought of it, for all these years.”

“Mum said they’ve only been doing the switching-on-the-lights thing for a few years,” Mallory offered. “So maybe you didn’t have the opportunity.”

Olivia was just glad her mum had agreed to come out for the evening. She’d resisted when Olivia had rung her on Monday, asking if she wanted to come, but then finally, after much cajoling and chivvying, she had agreed. Olivia had driven to Witney to pick her up, leaving Mallory with the awesome responsibility of taking the last batch of shortbread out on time, which she’d thankfully done.

Since she’d arrived Tina had kept busy in her corner, and Olivia had far more clove-stuck oranges than she actually needed, but at least her mum was staying busy and seemed happy. It made Olivia realise, with one of those funny little pangs, how much she hadn’t been busy or happy in the last year and a half she’d been in the shop. How slowly but surely she’d let go of her responsibilities while Olivia had taken over, too busy really to notice how little her mum did, or how adrift she had started to seem.

“It does seem like a nice tradition,” Tina said as she continued with her cloves. “Both the switching on of the lights and keeping the shop open. You’ve done well, Olivia. So well.” She smiled wistfully, and Olivia suppressed another of those pangs.

“Thanks, Mum, but you’re the one who kept this shop going for so long. It still feels much more of your place than mine.” Which wasn’t entirely true, considering how many hours Olivia spent there, but she wanted her mother to feel a part of things.

“Oh, no.” Tina shook her head. “This is all yours now, Olivia.”

“How is it going?” Ellie cried gaily as she came into the shop with her husband, Oliver, a bespectacled cutie who gave Olivia a charmingly bashful smile.