She took a quick glance at the financial reports that she had compiled last night, along with Rob’s estimate – which sat on the seat next to her. They weren’t anything to be proud of; that was for sure. Still, Elle hoped that the short business plan she had hammered together would be enough to present a compelling case as to why the Bay Hotel needed an extension of credit and a brand new loan. And how the planned renovations would eventually put their arrears back into the black.

The town was bustling. Locals were picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work, and others – tourists, no doubt – were completely at leisure, reading the newspaper over breakfast on the outside tables in front of Pebbles Café.

Elle had fond memories of that cosy little space, she remembered gossiping with her friends as a teenager over hot chocolates there; she, Hazel and Paula spending hours on end watching passers-by and sizing up the tourists for any good-looking boys. Vera, the owner, had been close to Elle’s mother but despite this she never told any tales. What happened in Pebbles stayed in Pebbles.

Peering in the windows was like glancing backwards into her youth, and she saw that the space was just as inviting and buzzing with energy. Maybe she would pop back there for a bit after the meeting before going to Penny’s to collect the cats.

The shops on Main Street were all open and Elle stopped to take a closer look at a few of them. There was a lovely leather bag she spotted in a new place that she hadn’t seen before; it seemed to specialise in accessories and was filled with colour and . . . sparkle, Elle thought, thinking of her sister. She guessed a magpie like Penny loved it here. Taking a closer look at the bag, she sized it up, deciding it would be perfect for carrying building plans. If she ever got back to her real life, that was. Elle had called her boss at the firm the night before and he hadn’t been too impressed with her request for an extended leave of absence. Well, if things went her way this morning, it wouldn’t be extended for much longer.

‘That one’s handmade,’ said a younger woman from behind the counter. ‘They’re all a little bit different.’

‘I might come back for it later,’ said Elle. ‘Though I’m not sure that I’ll be needing it.’

‘Ah, you can never have too many bags,’ the woman grinned. She looked speculatively at Elle for a few moments and she wondered if she’d said something wrong. ‘You don’t remember me do you?’ she continued to Elle, who was now even more wrong-footed. ‘Karen Casey – I’m Paula’s sister.’