Kate and Bill hung the last of the streamers and balloons from the ceiling in the centre of the tea shop.
The pastry chef busied herself in the kitchen while the aroma of sweet spices and baking wafted out to the courtyard. Pretty set tables with brightly painted café chairs, and a large banner displaying the logos of books and teapots stretched across the top of the glass fronted stone buildings. One of the staff had constructed a small stage platform and set up the sound system, for the mayor who would make a speech later.

It had been Kate’s idea to honour Bill’s hard work over the last two years. Now a respected authority on the art of restoring books, he had already rescued hundreds from being pulped, thrown away or even burnt.
Bill who did not enjoy fuss, felt any glory of success should be Kate’s.
She managed to persuade him to agree to an event, but he had one condition.
“I will go along with your plans, as long as it’s without fanfare,” Bill said.
Kate promised to organise a low-key celebration.
Maeve, who lived nearby, and had become one of Bill’s biggest fans, in her usual ebullient style, informed the local papers, radio stations and anyone else she thought could possibly promote this gathering.
Kate pleaded on Bill’s behalf, but a determined Maeve had already turned it into a bit of a bash.

Bill, in his workshop, felt apprehensive and turned to check the clock, hanging on one of the white walls. He realised, in one hour, he and Kate would celebrate a second birthday in business, and their first ‘Book Restoring Day’ festival event.
He walked into the main room, went to Kate, kissed her hand and disappeared into the kitchen to make them a soothing pot of tea.

“Hey Kate, where’s your Bill? Got him another book to make new again.”
Maeve stood in the empty courtyard and waved a book as thick as Kane and Abel in her direction. She made her way through the open doors to the tearoom and pushed past the narrow spaces in between the tables. On reaching the service area, she threw the heavy book down hard onto the marble countertop. The book bounced, and the staff’s ceramic tip cup fell over, smashing onto the terracotta floor. Coins, notes and broken pieces of pottery scattered everywhere.
Wearing voluminous layers of yellow and green, Maeve clumsily got down on her hands and knees and muttered words of apology.
Bill on hearing the sound of crashing china, appeared with a mop, a brush and a bucket.
Kate’s two sheepdogs, Benjy and Jennie, awoke from their sleep, stretched and looked around as if to ask, ‘what is that rumpus’? Lucy, the cockatoo in her blue cage in another corner, squawked, “Oh, silly Maeve, silly Maeve.”
Kate walked over to Maeve. “There’s no harm done, and no need to clear up. Bill is here. What about a mug of our signature tea and a freshly, baked cheese scone?
An embarrassed Maeve nodded.
Kate helped the perspiring woman to stand and guided her to sit at one of the white wicker chairs facing outwards.

The tearoom and book restoring business seemed such a natural project for Bill and Kate to develop after they found the two stone white-washed cottages. Neglected buildings that sat near a public promenade by the seafront.
After months of form filling, attending meetings with council bodies, the powers that be, gave Kate and Bill the go-ahead. They signed a contract with a ten-year lease, allowing them to open two businesses’ to serve the local town and community.
A perfect pairing, both Kate and Bill agreed. She would run a tea and book swap shop and Bill would expand his hobby. The one he’d kept secret for nearly thirty years.

At his former home, Bill had a manshed at the bottom of his garden. He taught himself the delicate and intricate skill of restoring books and stored these paper treasures.
After Marjorie passed, on sleepless nights, he would go to his shed and lose himself in the process of restoring old books.

For two years, flushed with enthusiasm, feeling motivated like never before, his hobby had evolved, bringing him success, working from a rectangular table and surrounded by the tools of his new trade. The glass doors he built allowed the perfect light to stream through with views out to the ocean, seagulls, fishermen and their boats.

Word quickly spread about the older couple who had renovated the stone buildings.
‘The Restoring Book and Tea Room – step inside, make a friend, swap or restore a book…’ the boards and signs read.
In the tea shop, white painted bookshelves lined the walls and Kate, an avid reader, filled them with hers and her son’s favourite novels.

The concept seemed to appeal. Locals, cyclist groups, families with children, dogs, along with the gushy Maeve, soon flocked to the tearoom and workshop. Bill and Kate built a real community hub, for restoring books, book swaps, reading, obligatory chit-chat over a cuppa, and eating delicious home bakes.

The postman delivered heaps of books in packages, and Bill would often find a sackful left outside his workshop.
Many, enclosed letters, and cheques, book owners desperate, requesting him to make good their books.
He spent hours, sorting out hinges, rebinding, re-sticking, and repairing page after page that had been over-exposed to light, oxidation or even mold.
This expertise with old raggedy and yellowing loose paged books, and making them new again, had given him a celebrity tag.

The night before this unique event, over a candlelight dinner in the tearoom, Bill presented Kate with a little box. Inside lay a ring on a velvet cushion.
“It’s a commitment ring,” Bill told her.
“Just showing that I care. Okay?”
Bill reached over, removed the ring from the box and placed it on Kate’s right finger.
“Well I never, Bill Brown. I didn’t think you had it in you- a piece of jewellery, and it fits perfectly,” Kate exclaimed.
“But, how did you know sapphires and diamonds are my favourites?” Her voice quivered with emotion.
Bill tapped the side of his nose and smiled.
“Life couldn’t be better and it’s all thanks to you darling girl. We make a good team, you and I. So, there is no going back. You have it in stone. now” Bill hugged her tightly.

The clock struck twelve midday. They heard the sound of the official car as it parked.
Bill watched Kate move to the centre of the tearoom and took her hand in his.
Stepping out to the courtyard, the stones of Kate’s ring caught in the shimmering sunlight. They smiled at each other, ready to greet the mayor, mayoress, and loyal customers.
Bill took in a deep breath of sea air. He thought, life is filled with possibilities, and he had found his passion and true love again.