Page 23 of The Jilted Lovers Club
It’s clear that my focus has to do a 180. The new shop needs to infuse the local flavor, and the only way to do that is to explore the neighboring businesses. I just hope they’ll let me, but with the way I’ve been treated so far, it will be a tall order.
I leave the coffee shop and pause outside for a moment, planning my course of action. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, willing my heart to calm down. Somehow, I’m going to have to charm this town just so I can get my job done.
Starting with the store next door.
The shop is called Leaf, and it’s brimming with leafy green plants from floor to ceiling. When I walk through the open doors, it’s like a breath of fresh air. Everything smells mossy and fresh, the air moist as if the plants have just been watered. I’m ready to buy everything in the store. But when I turn to the man at the counter, the air turns frosty with a biting chill.
“Hi there,” I say. He remains silent as he peers at me over the top rim of his glasses. “I’m—”
“Jordy Gallo. I know. The designer for that soulless company, Winslow & Associates.”
I pause, momentarily stunned, though I shouldn’t be. Of course he knows who I am.
Then I recognize him. He was one of the protesters, the well-dressed one who’d left early. And apparently, this is his shop.
“Yes,” I stammer. “You probably know that I’m designing the store next door to you, a luxury watch company. I’m planning to give it a Lahoma Springs look to help it fit in with the rest of the town, and—”
“Honey, that store will never fit in with the rest of the town.” He says it with a flourish of his hand, as if to dismiss me right out of his store. It’s not like I expected any of these shopkeepers to be an easy sell, but his biting tone and stony stare reveal this might be a near impossible task.
I’m not ready to give up, though.
“I get why you think that,” I say slowly, “and I admire your loyalty to Lahoma. Honestly, I don’t blame you.”
He tilts his head ever so slightly, but says nothing.
“If I’m being completely truthful, I wouldn’t trust an out-of-town business owner either, if I lived in a small town like this. I mean, you all have a lot going for you, the quaint charm and absolute preciousness of this town.”
“Are you mocking us?” His eyes narrow, and I widen mine in response.
“Absolutely not!” I lean forward, reading his nametag. “Michael, I’m agreeing with you. No one should come here and threaten your way of living by introducing a store that clashes with the aesthetic. It would make it stand out, possibly even get people to come in out of curiosity, which is incredibly unfair to all of you who have poured your blood, sweat, and tears intothese shops. I mean, your family lines live in these stores, and some outsider is going to come here and act like they’re better than all of you by appearing way different?”
God, even I’m eating up my own bullshit. Yet, as Michael continues to look at me unblinking, I start to doubt there’s a chance in hell I’ll break through. Then he scoffs and shakes his head.
“Goddamn, you’re good.” His face relaxed into something warmer and a little bit smiley.
I smother a grin under my hand, and he pauses long enough to shake his head. “Don’t get smug. I still don’t trust you, but I also agree with your little ploy there. I’ll be damned if some luxury watch shop overshadows any of the businesses on this strip, especially mine. If there’s no stopping this shop from opening here, I might as well make some money. So tell me honey, which plants should we charge to your boss’s credit card?”
An hour later, Michael not only helps me spend over a thousand dollars on plants, but also turns the closed sign on his shop so that he can help me on my mission. The man may not trust me, but he sure knows how to use that credit card. By the time we’ve reached the last store, I have just about everything I need.
The final store is Lock & Key, this French Country antique store full of artisan treasures. I do a slow circle as I take in the historic pieces, feeling breathless at the stories each item whispers to me. The ceramic white milk jugs and the painted wood framed windows. The chicken nesting boxes holding plates and interesting bottles in the hay-filled sections. The old ladder with colorful material draped over each rung. The hundred-year-old stove and the handmade Christmas ornaments.
Timeless.
I want to scoop up every item and carry them over to the new shop. The mix of modern time pieces with farmhouse vintage goods make the most sense in the world.
“You need this,” Michael breathes, running his hand over a Civil War-era armoire. One look, and I know he’s right. It has cabinets that open to drawers and shelves. On the side are hidden chambers, practically invisible if you’re not looking for them.
This is a centerpiece of a furniture item, and I know it belongs in Timeless. But I wince when I see the price tag. $24,000. Alexander might have overlooked a $13,000 dinner bill, but charging this much not even twenty-four hours later feels like a one-way ticket out of a job.
“It’s one of a kind,” someone says behind me. I turn to see a girl of about twenty standing there shyly, her lips painted red and her blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. Her nametag says Grace Dalton, and she has a kind of Taylor Swift vibe to her in her cardigan and short skirt. “The owner keeps it mostly for bragging rights,” Grace admits. “It’s been in her family for years. She keeps saying she’ll let it go to the right buyer, but so far, no one has even made an offer.”
“Well, it’s her lucky day,” Michael says, and I glance at his beaming face and shake my head. “Stop,” he hisses to me, then charms his smile back to Grace. “She’ll take it. It’s for that shop on the corner, you know, the one that used to be The Till.”
Grace raises an eyebrow, then looks at me. But instead of the usual scowl these shopkeepers throw my way, she looks amused.
“So, you’re the famous Ms. Gallo,” she says.
“In the flesh.” I give a mock curtsy. “But I think I need to put some thought into whether or not I get this piece.” My logical side knows there is no way I can buy this, but the more my eyes linger on the armoire, the more I feel like I don’t have a choice. It’s just the kind of showstopper I was looking for. “Forsomething of this size and cost, I really should get approval from my boss.”
