“All the better. If you can’t drink wine in the morning when you sit in the wreckage of your beautiful shop, then when can you?”

Mary considered that a very good point. A few minutes later, they were arranged on the floor on a blanket Estrella had brought, spreading goat cheese over baguettes and sipping wine from plastic cups. Mary used the food and drink as an excuse for why she wasn’t adding to the conversation, but really, it was because it was soothing to hear Estrella chatter about the future of the shop. She had all sorts of big ideas for how they could use the break-in to start fresh, changing this or that, refocusing on certain areas. Mary didn’t agree with half of Estrella’s vision, but it was just so good to hear someone else dreaming and planning and TLCing her shop.

It was a stark contrast to her parents’ reaction. They’d been horrified, of course, and Mary had had to talk them out of coming in from Connecticut. But their reaction had also been—surprise, surprise—judgmental. As if they weren’t shocked that it had happened because, after all, Mary had been the one to choose to move to the big city, where things like this happened every day. She had told herself that they just hadn’t understood the context.

John was lucky.

His mother fed Mary bread and fruit and cheese and wine and then packed up the picnic and set herself to work. The two women worked side by side for a few hours before Sebastian and Tyler showed up as they had yesterday as well. A few hours after that, Kylie was there, her bag tossed to the floor and determination on her face. She loved this shop as much as Mary and Estrella did, and the girl had seemed to take an almost personal offense to the destruction of it.

An hour after that, Via and Fin showed up, dinner in hand for all the workers. And after that, John. As they all had the day before, the group worked until well after the sun went down.

Mary fell into bed that night, exhausted, aware that she was going to have to do the whole thing again tomorrow. But not hopeless. Not the least bit hopeless.

IF SHE HADN’T been in the middle of a crisis, John might have truly considered going on another Mary fast. The first one hadn’t worked well enough. The crush he’d been so deftly attempting to two-step around had finally sunk its claws in. Good and deep. A full-time dance partner.