The days clicked by and, ready or not, Books & Brew opened. My goal was to welcome customers before the busy tourism season kicked off. My soft opening consisted of a gathering of a few friends two days before the doors officially opened. We sold a few books, drank a lot of tea, and spent a few hours getting more comfortable in the store. There wasn’t much to practice, since sales and stocking would move at island pace. The key to the store’s success was going to be how people felt being here. Tripp, a retired schoolteacher, was an indispensable hire. He was endlessly available, an avid reader, personable, and happy to be with people. He was the perfect addition.
The day after the soft opening, Tripp and I were putting out new stock, arranging a lot of the books with their covers out to make the shelves look fuller than they were. As sparse as our new stock was, at that point, I was not worried at all. Inventory was still arriving daily, which encouraged customers to keep visiting to check out the new additions. It was an accidentally genius business strategy.
Carl’s first few boxes of donations had been an amazing boost to the Trading Floor. The first few swaps happened at the soft opening. Clearly, that room was going to be a hit. Tripp and I planned another visit to Carl’s to get more books. If we each drove a cart, we would quickly have some full shelves in this room.
“Tripp, I feel like something is missing in here, what do you think?” I asked him, knowing he would give me a direct answer.
“Well, Carr, you’ve done a good job with changing things up. You know that I think you absolutely hit it out of the park and the ghosts of the T-Shirt Gallery have been sent packing.”
“But?” I probed.
“If you ask me, I think you need something on the walls and more stuff on the tables, more stuff around. The books and chairs and all the things you added since Allen left have made it feel like someone’s home, which is great. People love our different rooms. They love the tea, and you were smart to get the resort to include your flyers in each guest room. But there is no—what would you call it? There is no—life. There is no island life in here. I think that’s it. Once you walk through the front door, honestly, I think it looks like you could be in a bookstore anywhere.”
I completely disagreed and pointed to my framed issue of Shores.
“That’s a start, but it’s not quite what I meant,” he said.
The last thing I wanted was to fill these rooms with commercial beach décor. Shells, fake starfish, anchors, and nautical-themed knick-knacks were the opposite of what I was trying to do. However, I had asked this question and Tripp had answered. He looked at me expectantly and I knew I had to say something.
“What about some big photographs of places on the island that tell people why we love it here so much? What about some sunset shots over the water or some pictures on the dirt roads, you know, things like that?” I was offering something I could do myself and would be comfortable with displaying in the store.
“Fantastic!” Tripp agreed, although I was still not really sure this was what he had in mind. It wasn’t lost on me that he had chosen to be supportive rather than push his viewpoint. I was immediately filled with gratitude to be surrounded by people who were helping me find my way.
I asked him, “Can you watch the store? I am going to run home and grab my camera. I will take some shots and then you can pick the ones you like,” offering Tripp the same grace he showed me.
I spent a few hours over the next several days finding the perfect shots. My Nikon D3300 camera was a useful tool. It was an older style digital SLR but with its fast shutter speed, I was able to memorialize some of the everyday Mongin Island magic. I captured deer and fox squirrels and long shots down the dirt roads. I photographed some of the historic sites, including the old ruins of what once had been the tabby walls of homes set back into the woods. I had a wide range of scenes, places, and a mix of colorscapes. But I wanted a really standout sunset shot that would showcase Mongin Island. Watching the sunset and the sunrise were rites of passage here. Could you say you had experienced Mongin Island if you hadn’t been soothed by the sun gradually falling below the horizon as the waves rhythmically filed away the sharp edges of anxiety, stress, and disappointment?
Just before closing, I heard the crunch of golf cart tires turning from the road into the store’s parking lot. “Barb must need something to read for her beach time tomorrow after she gets her new arrivals settled,” Tripp said as he looked out the front window. “Did you notice how Barb always shops in the new books section? I never see her grab a trade.”
I smiled at him and replied, “I noticed, yes. Just like you, she finds a way to help without ever saying a word.”
“Hey, you!” I greeted her from the porch. “Guess what? The Kingsley Bate rockers I ordered are coming on the barge tomorrow. Tripp got these old ceiling fans working, too. The front porch will be ready in the next day or so. Want to break it in with me?”
“I get first dibs on picking my chair! I want the one with the best view.” She grinned as she said it but we both knew she was at least a little serious. She would not want to miss any of the comings and goings on Old Port Passage Way.
“Anything for you! Speaking of views, let me ask you something. I need a sunset or sunrise view over the water. I want to frame something for the back room. We don’t get much light in there and I want something that pops for the one wall that faces the doorway. I was thinking about going to the ferry landing. I was thinking if I stood at the beginning of the dock, I could get the tall reeds, the dock, and some boats with the sun in the background. But, I don’t know, it just seems so—so basic, you know? I mean for us, we’ve been there a million times and for new visitors, it just doesn’t feel like it tells our story. Any other suggestions?”
“You want something the average visitor probably hasn’t experienced?”
I nodded my head.
“Then, we need to go to Governor’s Point. I’m not sure about going for a sunset shot. It gets pretty dark back there without any streetlights.” She looked at her phone and looked back at me. “Looks like sunrise will be around 6:55 tomorrow morning, which is supposed to be a sunny day. How about I pick you up around 6:30 and we head over? You can see if that’s what you’re looking for—but I am betting it will be.”