Page 2 of Mistlefoes

As Beya disappeared into the back room, I closed my eyes and took a cleansing breath—a breath that didn’t really help. After the morning of reviewing finances, dread still taunted me. In resignation, I shook my head. Maybe, the sale today would help—no thanks to JackFreakingZiglar.

I told myself not to worry about it until tomorrow. The numbers wouldn’t change much between now and then. Still, I grabbed a notepad and pen to make a list of things that might help the store and in turn, me.

Website.

Online store.

Social media advertising.

New Products?

Win contest.

I underlinedwinthree times.

The first three items required marketing skills I didn’t have. Yet. My own fault. I kept promising myself I’d get a website and web store up and running, but I hadn’t yet. It wasn’t procrastination, but more that I lacked the hours in the day. Maybe, if I got books on the subject, I could figure out those tasks. Not from here, though. All I carried were romance novels. I’d either have to order from online, go into one of the bigger cities around us and visit one of the national bookstores, or—kill me now—go to Jack’s bookstore. And thatwas nothappening. I’d sooner run naked through town on Christmas day than step foot intoZigzie’s Books.

Or I could send Beya…

No!

Not happening. I wasn’t giving him business, since it was basically his fault I was in this predicament. We used to run a single bookstore before he’d cheated. Now, my expenses were doubled since we had split resources.Hisfault.

So no. I wasn’t going toZigzie’s—the stupidest bookstore name ever. I’d figure out the tech stuff, and the final item on my short list… Totally doable. I’d kick ass with my Christmas display. I might feel like the Grinch inside, but I could look like Rockefeller Plaza on the outside—well, my house and yard could, anyway. I’d been planning it out since last Christmas after Jack and I broke up. He always rocked the contest with all his electronics know-how, but this year, I was ready to Tonya Harding his Nancy Kerrigan light show.

And that was the other thing…

My particularly obnoxious ex lived across the street from me. We weren’t neighborly, though. He waved. I ignored. I didn’t even give the cheating jerk a one-finger salute even though he existed to annoy me.

Aside from our past history, he mowed his lawn at an ungodly early hour—the same for his snow blowing his driveway and sidewalk now that winter had arrived. I should be thankful he did mine too, but I knew he just did it to annoy me. At six-freaking-AM when heknewI wasn’t a morning person.

He also let me know when my car made a strange noise. He turned up at my favorite places. When I carved a pumpkin for Halloween, he did two—and bigger, fancier. And now, in an act of the ultimate bad neighboring… He’d try to outdo my holiday display that I’d started putting out last week in anticipation of the contest announcement. He hadn’t started his, but that meant nothing. I knew he would.

Just thinking about him made me annoyed.

I pushed away my pad of paper.

“What’s that scowl for? Need another coffee?” Beya asked as she lugged the newly decorated sign from the back where she’d redone it.

“I’ve barely touched this one. Hey, doesBrewly Yourshave a website?”

“Uh…yeah,” she said as if it were the dumbest question ever. “I think Zain had it up and going before he even opened the shop.”

“Did he set it up or did he hire someone?”

“Are you finally going to get us a site?” she asked, rubbing her hands together. “My gosh, we won’t have to make like we live in thePride and Prejudiceera, anymore.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s not that bad.”

Yeah, we didn’t have a website, but the store wasn’t outdated. I had the latest point of sale and tracking systems, and everything inside was modern—modern romantic and not modern sterile. Sterile and boring was Jack’s department, and he could keep it over atZigzie’s.

“If you say so,” she said, her tone coming across as a verbal eye roll. “But yes, Zain did it himself. I’m sure he’ll help you get one set up, if you want. Let me set up this sign, then I’ll call him.”

I watched her go, hoping the sign would draw in a few people. It seemed so, though I couldn’t say for sure that we didn’t just get some of our regulars. In between customers, Beya and I—and Zain when she facetimed him in—talked about a website. Before I knew it, we were closing up. Beya left, and I puttered around the store, cleaning and restocking.

It was after eight, and all the shops around me were closed for the night, by the time I was ready to go. The sun had set hours ago when I locked the door and headed down the sidewalk toward my house on the east side of town.

Cherish Cove was thriving, but in many ways, it was small with only about two thousand, six hundred permanent residents. Of course, that number exploded during the height of the summer tourism season. Being a small place, it was walkable for those who lived here. My business was only a short ten-minute walk from my home when I took my time. Much less when I hurried.

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