Page 174 of Story of My Life
“Remember when they stole our pickleball mascot last year? We should sneak into town and steal all their pets!” a muscular woman in a tracksuit called from her seat in front of a display of urns.
“Okay. I was thinking more like tourists,” I said. “This is a beautiful town with a stunning lake. There’s got to be a way to lure tourists away from Dominion.”
“Steal from Dominion. Lure tourists,” Darius said out loud as he wrote down my suggestions. “I like it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Emilie squirming in her seat and turning beet red.
Lang Johnson got to her feet. “While I’d love to take back from Dominion, how exactly do you suggest we compete with them?”
“Yeah,” Scooter said, standing one row behind her. “They’ve got everything a twenty-something could want for spring break.”
Emilie’s patience evaporated. “That’s a stupid idea. Who in their right mind would want to come here instead of Dominion? That place is a year-round party town with the amenities to prove it. We’ve got jackshit compared to them. We should just throw in the towel and sell everything off to Dominion.”
“I’m glad you asked, Lang,” I said with a smile that was only a little wobbly. “Zoey, can you start the presentation?”
The first photo was of Dominion’s lake on the Fourth of July. It was a traffic jam of party boats and floating bodies. You could barely see the actual water. “Looks like a casino pool in Vegas in August, doesn’t it? Can you imagine how much pee is in that water?”
“I’d rather be swimming in urine than shit,” Emilie piped up.
“For fuck’s sake,” Cam muttered.
“Emilie, I think we’re going to have to review helpful versus unhelpful feedback. I’d love it if you didn’t make us put you in time-out in front of the whole town,” Darius said, unfazed.
“So it’s definitely gross and there’s probably pee-borne disease in their lake water. But how does that help us?” Hana from the lodge called out.
Zoey flipped to the next slide. A beautiful summery shot of our lake with a pair of kayaks and a fishing boat trawling the shoreline.
“What if we’re the opposite of Dominion?” I suggested. “What if instead of a year-round spring break party town, we go after the people who don’t want Jet Skis and shots of Jaeger?”
“Like who?” Ace asked.
“Like families with kids who still take naps. Retired couples. Introverts who would rather go to a bar with a book than scream into the ear of a stranger. People with mobility issues. People who aren’t going to be setting off fireworks at three o’clock in the morning or falling down drunk in the middle of town.”
“Autism families,” Erleen supplied.
I beamed gratefully at her. “Exactly!”
Darius pointed at us. “Yes! I was just reading about a small-town amusement park that does special silent days for visitors with sensory issues. In the first year, they more than made up forthe money they would have lost from general admission on those days, and the park’s revenue was up ten percent for the year.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms. We were onto something.
“We could focus on attracting fishermen…er, people instead of the speedboat crowd,” Cam called out. “It would keep the lake quieter and cleaner.”
“And the more people we tempt into our quiet little town, the more money they’ll spend here, and the more likely they’ll be to come back,” I said with enthusiasm. “Think about it. We’ve got this pristine lake, a gorgeous lodge, and the cutest downtown I’ve ever seen. And I write small-town romance, so that’s saying something.”
“But what about all the empty storefronts and the for-sale signs?” someone in the back asked.
“We do give off ghost town vibes,” Laura agreed reluctantly.
I pointed to Zoey, who advanced to the next slide.
“What’s Summer Fest?” Kitty Suarez asked, looking up from the beanie she was knitting.
“It’s basically like a rebranding. We’re not Dominion’s nerdy little sister with nothing to offer. We’re the escape from the chaos of real life. We kick it off with some kind of event or festival for Labor Day,” I said. “We could do a parade or a kayak race, pie-baking contest. We hide all the for-sale signs just for the day. We make it look like we’re a thriving small town that anyone would want to be a part of.”
“Isn’t that a little underhanded?” Gator demanded.
“Well, yeah, probably,” I admitted.
