Page 27 of Dream a Little Dream

I touched my forefinger to the table. “We will not fall for her smile, her hair, or her charisma.”

Devyn looked between us. “I’m Team Savanna. But I need marching orders. Are we icing her out? I’m the best at that.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows dipped with concern. “Icing is hard, but I can do it.” She folded her arms as if closing herself off. I felt awful, because that actually wasn’t what I wanted for anyone. Plus, I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing. I simply knew that I was feeling defensive and not sure which end was up.

“No. No icing. I’m going to be myself and you should beyourselves, too.” I sighed. “It’s such a unique situation.” I lowered my voice in case it carried to the bar. “We were never in a relationship. It was one weekend, but it affected me.”

“It would affect anyone,” Devyn said quietly. “You waited a year, anticipated the meetup, and were ghosted.”

I shook my head. “I don’t hate her, though. I just don’t want to get mixed up with her again. I’ll be nice and ride out her short stay in town. It’s just a few days. How hard can it be?”

Devyn raised an eyebrow.

“Pshh.” Elizabeth reached across the table and covered my hand. “If anyone is capable of being the bigger person, it’s you, Savanna. I have all the faith in your ability to protect yourself and hold your head high with grace.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling better just having a plan. “This town may be small, but it is definitely big enough for the both of us.”

Chapter Nine

Spring Sprouts

When I headed off for two years of business school after completing my bachelor’s, I’d dreamed of small business ownership. Starting something of my own, developing a relationship with my customers, and watching that business grow and grow under my watchful gaze. I wasn’t talking about global domination, just a little carved out piece of this world that was mine to nurture and develop with all the knowledge I’d gained through my studies. When I was hired by Donald Faber, the owner of Festive Foods, to take the reins of the grocery store I’d been shopping in with Lindy since I was eleven, it was meant to be temporary. A management position that would season my skills while I got my ducks in a row to start my own venture. But that little store had grabbed hold of my heart and held on, derailing my entrepreneurial plans, or at least delaying them.

The Airbnb was a nice way to scratch the still existing itch, but I also knew I was capable of so much more. I had ideas, ambition, and the work ethic to make big changes at Festive, if only given the proper leeway to do it. Mr. Faber’s arrogance, however, was an obstacle at every turn. He was a man in his late sixties with way too much money. Sadly, his ego knew no limit, and his stubborn refusal to get out of my way at the store was a problem I was still very much working on.

I coasted through the first part of the weekend at work, enjoying my customers and putting the finishing touches on the newest promotion I’d been developing for next year’s spring months at Festive Foods. Planning ahead was my specialty. I was calling the promotion Spring Sprouts, which essentially entailed shining a spotlight on a different produce item every week throughout spring, offering education, funfacts, and trivia. Hopefully, Spring Sprouts would remind our shoppers of items they hadn’t picked up in a while or at all. Cantaloupe, for example, was a favorite that a lot of people forgot about. I was all for championing its cause and had it lined up to kick off the program once March rolled around. All I needed was for Mr. Faber to sign off on the project when he was in the store this afternoon, and I’d get the marketing graphics commissioned, which would leave us plenty of time to get to print. I had a fantastic display idea and was itching to get started.

“I love it,” Buster said as he peered at my screen in the office. He was the employee in our store who knew the most about produce. A true star, and the people loved him. He could talk about not only the optimal season for each fruit and vegetable but what soil was best, what climate they thrived in, and ultimately how to best prepare each one. If there was anyone’s input I valued, it was his.

He pointed at my computer screen. “On that list of interesting facts, there, you could also include that the plural of cantaloupe iscantaloupes. You would be surprised how many people tell me they’re looking for several cantaloupe to take home.” He met my gaze, his brow furrowed as if the crime was too great for him. “It’s honestly rampant and just plain wrong. This is our chance to make a difference.”

I nodded, smothering a smile, and earnestly typed a note. “Good tip, Buster. That’s why I always consult with you on anything in the produce section.”

He inflated. “I’d be happy to answer any questions about the spring sprout of the week. I could make sure I lap through produce more often. Maybe three times an hour. Or even four. Would that be good?”

“I think it’s a great plan. I love the idea of you as our ambassador and was hoping for your help on this.”

He beamed and clapped his hands once loudly like a football coach. I could tell I’d made his day and was happy to recognize him and his expertise. He was already standing two inches taller. You’d have thought it was his birthday. “I hope you know how much I value your contribution.”

He beamed. “I’m just so thr—”

“All right,” a loud voice said—no,bellowed. “I’m here, Savanna. What in hell do you need?” I turned. Faber. He wore a blue windbreaker track suit like it was the eighties, fighting wind harder than anyone had ever fought. I truly disliked this man but knew that without hisapproval, my project would be dead in the water. He required me to run any marketing expenses by him personally, and it was rare he listened for more than thirty seconds before expressing his usually off-base opinion. Exhausting.

I forced myself to send him an enthusiastic smile. More bees with honey and all that. “Perfect. Hi, Mr. Faber. Come on in.” I offered my most confident smile. He was a businessman, and I needed him to see me as someone who had the best interest of the store in mind. “I asked you to swing by because we don’t have anything special planned for spring just yet and I wanted to show you the new promo I’d like to roll out in March.” Buster offered me a nod and secret thumbs-up sign behind Faber’s back before fleeing my small office. None of the employees were fond of him. Faber had never been kind to any of them, treating them like cattle who happened to be in his way at every turn, which made them feel underappreciated. I worked double-time to convince them otherwise.

“All right. All right. Show me.” He had the courtesy to take the toothpick out of his mouth as he strolled to my laptop. He frowned at the screen. “What? You’re saying it’s a little fruit stand-up thing? What am I looking at? I don’t get it.” He seemed really bothered by the whole inconvenience.

“Physically, it’s a display, yes,” I said, hoping my enthusiasm might be contagious. “An opportunity to spotlight a new item each week in the produce section. I really think that—”

“No. I don’t want people thinking we’re simple. BeLeaf would never have anything like that in the store.” BeLeaf, the corporate grocery store giant, continued to be the meter stick to which Faber compared everything Festive Foods did. If I never heard the wordBeLeafagain in my life, it would be too soon.

I held up a patient finger. “I agree. But BeLeaf isn’t attempting to capitalize on a small-town vibe. They’re a national chain. That’s how we’re different, and we should embrace it.” I attempted to explain, feeling like I was treading water in a dicey current. “We thrive when we offer personal attention, and a promotion like this one is a great conversation starter. I guarantee it will result in moving more product out the door. Isn’t that the goal?” Had he forgotten that I saw the weekly numbers before he did? I was well aware of the fact that with delivery services gaining popularity and forcing a discount, we were in a revenue decline.

“Savanna. What is it you think you’re telling me about my own business, huh? I’m a grocery king in this town. I have a boat.”

I stared at him trying to translate the non-sequitur, a hallmark of his. Sometimes I truly thought we spoke different languages. “And it’s a nice boat, but if we could—”

“Do you have one?”

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