Page 11 of Stacked
I crossed to one of the open ladders and sat on the third step. From here, my vantage point gave me almost a 360-degree view of the store's main showroom, and I liked what I saw: carved bookshelves, a beautiful bar worthy of any discerning Instagrammer, cozy nooks for reading in oversized leather chairs, and a flex space that would serve as a stage for local music acts or other entertainment.
“Hopefully, before that. Early August if we can swing it. Ifyoucan swing it.”
My contactor nodded. “And I think that means you should enter the float competition.”
I started. “Float competition?”
“For the Fourth of July. It’s a great way to get the word out about this place before it opens.”
“You mean the New Burlington parade? I don’t remember a float competition.”
“They started it about five years ago,” Javier said, picking up his toolbox and straightening his baseball cap. “My wife helped with the float for St. Ignatius School last year, and it was impressive.”
“That so?”
My thoughts turned to the New Burlington Independence Day parades of my childhood. They were nice but nothing to speak of, and I could have found them in any other small Midwestern town. A few dance teams, the high school marching band, a caravan of cars from the local dealerships, and a few political candidates for county offices tossing candy and handing out bumper stickers. Very Americana.
“The float competition is good marketing for local businesses,” Javier said. “And not that expensive to enter. Plus, they give the winner ten thousand bucks for their trouble.”
“Feels like you buried the lead.”
He laughed. “The competition last year was pretty stiff.”
“Thanks for the tip. I’ll think about entering,” I replied.
Javier finished gathering his things and left. It was after five, and I closed the space, feeling optimistic about the progress we’d made in the last few weeks on the renovation. Compared to projects like this in the past, it seemed like we were moving at lightning speed, even with the daily difficulty of finding reliable construction workers. Back in New York, the renovation of the small office for the hedge fund took almost a year, despite being far less complicated than the creation of this bookstore.
Javier was probably right. It was time to start advertising. New Burlington was small enough that word had gotten around about the store, but people didn’t know much else. They didn’t know my plans and they didn’t know me. Not now. I’d changed since growing up here, coming back from New York City a different man. A better man.
Maybe it should start with the parade.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANYA
“There you are,” Carolyn James said in a singsong from behind a double-paned window as I strode through the wide double doors of the New Burlington Town Hall. “And I think I know exactly why you’re here.”
