On Monday afternoon, Anja was scribbling furiously, filling page after page in her notebook. Every now and then, she paused to brush a strand of hair out of her face with the end of her pen, and somehow she had managed to get a smudge of black ink right where the dimple on her chin was.

It repeatedly drew Susanne’s gaze, and each time she had to force her attention back to what they were doing. The temperature in her uncle’s office didn’t help her focus either.

The room was tiny, and with two people sitting close together so they could peer at the screen of her laptop, it was starting to feel a bit like a sauna. Or maybe it was just her.

Anja didn’t seem to be affected. She was focused entirely on the different social media channels Susanne showed her. A wrinkle of concentration had formed on her brow, deepening with every site they visited. Finally, she leaned back and rubbed her eyes. “This is kind of a lot.”

In the past, Susanne had always ruthlessly enforced whatever was necessary for a business to prosper, with no regard to how the employees might feel about it. But now, after spending the previous Saturday at Paperworld and having dinner with Anja, she couldn’t quite muster a cool, businesslike response. “I know. But it’s the only way.”

“It’s really not that I’m too lazy to learn all of this new stuff. I just can’t help thinking what if it’s all wrong for us? It feels as if we’re killing what we’re trying to save.”

“Killing? Definitely not. Studies show that companies that employ online—”

“Forget the studies.” Anja dropped her fountain pen on the desk without her usual gentleness when handling her beloved writing instruments. “Our store is more than just numbers.”

Oh man. Not that argument, please. Susanne couldn’t help groaning. If she never again had to hear that same old the-spirit-of-the-company-is-more-important-than-making-money discussion, she’d die a happy woman. “Maybe, but without the numbers, there is no store. I thought we agreed on that.”

“We did. But what if by making the numbers, we suffocate what Paper Love is all about—the love for stationery?” Anja gestured at the laptop. “We’ve been in here all day. I haven’t seen a customer—a real-life customer, not just anonymous people on some stationery forum—or touched a notebook besides my own for even a second. What I love about this job is working with stationery, not just posting pictures about it.”

The sadness in Anja’s tone tugged on her heartstrings, but Susanne suppressed the feeling. Personal sensitivities had no place in business, and just because she kind of liked Anja didn’t change that fact. “Listen, I don’t mean to come across like a bitch, but—”