Page 13 of Christmas in Watch Hill
We stared at each other glumly, the air of defeat filling the room. And maybe that was the worst part of all of it—I had lost, and I knew it. Days of one sale, or maybe two, wouldn’t work any longer. I’d put in my absolute best effort, and tried my hardest to keep going, but the reality of the situation had finally caught up with me.
But then the front door jangled, signaling a customer.
“I’ll be right with you,” I called as I tied the bow on the online order gift box. “Welcome to The Pink Box.”
“Glad you were open,” a familiar male voice called, and I looked up from the ribbon to find Scott walking toward me. “I figured you might be.”
“What can I say?” Blood rushed to my ears, and I was already off kilter from the sight of seeing him again. We’d had such an amazing dinner the night before, and I’d enjoyed our conversation, which had felt more honest than the ones I’d been having lately with other people. “It’s the holiday season.”
“And every sale counts.” He stopped near Tara and extended his wide hand. “I’m Scott Parker, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Tara. Nice to meet you, too.”
When they were done shaking hands, I moved closer to him. I just couldn’t help myself. “Is there . . . is there anything I can help you with?”
“Sure is.” He smiled. “I was hoping you could help me find a really great outfit for an upcoming cocktail party I need to attend.” He surveyed the sales floor. “Maybe some sequins.”
“Satin,” I said, catching his joke right away. “And feathers. Anything with satin and feathers will really make a splash.” A laugh escaped my lips. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what are you really doing here?”
“After last night, I got to thinking about what you said, and the situation you all are in right now.” He glanced from me to Tara and back again as if making sure he had our full attention. Given that we had depressingly little going on, he definitely did. And as I stared at him, I noticed the file folder he carried beside him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had a few ideas.”
I took a deep breath, anticipation flowing through me. Whatever he was about to say, I had a feeling I would want to hear it. But still, this wasn’t his cross to bear—and at this time of year, he no doubt had enough going on. “You don’t have to help me. It’s not your problem.”
“I want to help. I really do.” He surveyed the main sales floor, as if taking it all in while he set up his next point. “And since I work in graphic design, I came up with a few new logos and an advertising promotion that you can start running today, or whenever you would like.”
“That’s so perfect and exactly what I was just talking about.” Tara snapped her fingers in delight, her face lighting up as if she were on the same page with Scott. “We can run some digital campaigns and get people to remember this place.”
“Exactly,” Scott said, his next words picking up speed. “I think doing a play on the history of this store is a good idea. By focusing on the way this place makes people feel, the nostalgia of it, we—you—um . . . you can conjure up a sort of rebirth in traffic while also driving people to a revamped online site in the process.”
“This all sounds great,” I said. “But that doesn’t solve the problem of the rent increase.”
I looked at Scott and Tara, wondering if they didn’t understand the importance of this aspect of it all. I only had a few weeks to get people to the store, and I’d run enough advertising campaigns to know that it often took a while for any of those to warm up. Marketing expenses were an advance on the future; I wasn’t sure this store really had one anymore.
“Even if the campaign does take off, I doubt there will be enough sales to make a dent in that issue,” I added.
The ever-present tension in my back tightened just a little more. I was tired of revisiting this topic all the time and tired of working to solve a problem that had no real solution. I’d made my decision. And maybe that was a signal, too. Once I closed the store, I could move on from this failure and start a new life, a new chapter, a new stage.Maybe I can go back to work as a photographer, and move back to New York, or . . . or anything.
“I just don’t see how this is going to work,” I admitted, thinking about my sad appeal to Chadwick Properties, and how the company didn’t want to offer me a break. “Not with the rent increase.”
“I thought about that a lot last night, too. You’re right, that’s the other big problem you’re facing, the other shark circling your boat.” Locking his gaze with mine, Scott stepped a little closer to me. “Which is why I reached out to a couple of people I know at Chadwick Properties.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
He nodded, not hiding his satisfaction. “We did some work for them last year, and I became really close with their main marketing team. A few phone calls, and—well, they agreed to delay the increase in your rent for twelve months, and to review it next year.”
“No way,” Tara and I said in unison. Then she added a laugh, and I heard the disbelief in it.
“Yep.” Scott placed the file folder on the checkout desk counter. “They hadn’t considered the historic value of the store when they issued that rent increase, but as it turns out, once it was brought to their attention, they could be persuaded to change their terms.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.” The words caught in my throat as I digested what he’d just said. What was this? Did I deserve it?Can this really be happening?“This is incredible.”
Scott nodded; his eyes were bright as he bit back a smile. “And you haven’t even seen the design idea yet.”
“Oh, I can’t wait for this.” Tara clapped her hands. “I am so ready for it.”
“Me too,” I admitted, still in shock over it all.
“Here we go,” Scott said. With a flourish, he opened the file folder and pulled out the packet of designs.
