Anja’s stomach churned. Susanne made it sound so easy, but for her, it was anything but. While she could use the Internet and get done whatever she needed to do online, it felt like a foreign language in which she had never quite become fluent. “How?”

Susanne shrugged. “I don’t have all the answers, but our first steps need to be setting up a website with an integrated webstore, a blog, an Instagram presence, and a YouTube channel. And then we need to spend some serious time finding out where the scrapbookers, journalers, and pen-and-paper geeks hang out online. That’s where we need to be too. We need to create content they want to read and that establishes us as trendsetters.”

Anja squeezed the apple so tightly that she felt the fruit give under her fingers. Her nails left half-moon-shaped indentations in the apple. “Blogging, social media marketing, making YouTube videos… Nobby can’t do any of that.”

“I know.” Susanne studied her with a serious expression. “The question is: Can you?”

The weight of every notebook and every piece of paper in their entire store seemed to settle on Anja’s shoulders. She wanted to argue, wanted to tell Susanne that she was wrong, that this couldn’t be the solution, but she knew she had closed her eyes from the truth for too long already. Now she had to face it or live with the consequences. “Yes,” she croaked out and then added with a slightly steadier voice, “I can do it.”

Susanne reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “I know you can. I will help, okay?”

Her fingers were warm and strong and chased away part of the fear. “Okay. Where do we start?”

“First, we save this poor apple,” she gently loosened Anja’s fingers, which had held the piece of fruit in a death grip, “and then we save Paper Love, starting with a short video about our top five finds at Paperworld.”

“Sounds good.” Anja put her other hand on top of Susanne’s and looked into her eyes. “Thank you.”

Susanne grinned. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not just talking about product videos. If we want to achieve that personal touch, Paper Love needs a face—your face.” She pulled her iPhone from her blazer pocket and held it up. “Ready to be a film star?”

Anja groaned. “I hate being on video. My hair’s probably a mess; my blouse is wrinkled from the backpack straps, and—”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful. Um, I mean, I bet our customers will appreciate your well-put-together but natural look.”

The compliment filled Anja with warmth. “Okay. Let’s do this. But first…”

“Yeah?”

“Muffins.”