Damn that Lorcan Byrne. He was the one that had convinced her what was surely months ago to look into her own shop. So she had. She's spoken to a solicitor about the inheritance her grandparents had left the girls. She'd quickly found out the money would be more than enough to get her started with a shop in London. She'd been elated but it had quickly been diminished when the elderly and portly gentleman had read out a stipulation. "Inheritance to be received only upon marriage." To put it simply, she felt as if her heart had dropped out of her stomach. She'd left his office defeated and gone back to the family's bakery on High Street. Where she waited. And waited. Then waited some more.

She was currently in the front of the shop scrubbing down the front cases with her bare hands. Her mother had asked why she hadn't just used magic and had quickly retreated to the back of the shop due to the glare she received from Maggie. She needed to work the anger and frustrations out. The defeat and borderline depression that her dream had been so close she'd been able to taste it only to have it ripped away from her so suddenly. She blamed Lorcan. He'd fueled the fire of hopes and dreams within her. If it hadn't been for his prodding, she'd have never gone through with any of it to simply be left utterly defeated. And then! Then he didn't shop up in the shop again for weeks, probably months!

She'd just slammed the bucket of soapy water down behind the counter when she heard the tinkling of the bell above the door indicating a customer having come in. "Be with you in a minute!" she called, perhaps a bit too crossly, from behind the counter with her back to the door oblivious to who she'd been less than polite to.