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Rae
The signing event with Sam had been such an incredible success, I was hoping it would carry on for at least a little while. It felt a bit too recklessly optimistic to think that one event could be the foothold I needed to really get my business off the ground, but there was still the little voice in the back of my mind cheering me on and reminding me of the chipper middle school teacher who constantly reminded us a fire only took one small spark to turn into a blaze.
When I was that young, that sentiment didn't make a lot of sense to me. Actually, it made too much sense to me and that was why it didn't mean anything. I thought she was truly giving us advice about building fires and telling us that we only needed to find something to make a spark in order to get things burning.
As someone who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, and was therefore witness to many summer nights of teenage boys trying to pass the time and keep their minds occupied with any number of dumb activities that seemed designed for the express purpose of seeing how close they could get to killing themselves and living to tell the tale, I was very familiar with the concept of things lighting on fire.
It was the mystery bookshop syndrome. I was looking at it far too literally and didn't catch on to what she was actually trying to get through to us until I was much older. Now I was hoping very much for that spark. I could use a blaze in my business right about now.
Maybe having Sam there at the shop would keep people talking for long enough for word to spread and the right kinds of customers to find their way in. That was on my mind as I headed into work the next morning, and for the second day in a row I was stunned by what I saw when I got to the shop.
There were people lined up again.
Just like the day before when they were crushed in close to the door, as if egregiously invading the personal space of the people in front of them would make a tremendous difference in how fast they got into the shop and near Sam, customers were waiting outside the door for me to open up. I drove by slowly, carefully looking at their hands to make sure none of them were holding fliers.
It would have been awful if they thought Sam would be there again, like I'd commissioned him to be a permanent fixture in the store along with the Edison lamp hanging overhead and the big leather sofa where I often had my afternoon coffee. But none of them was holding the advertisements and they didn't look as worked up and anxious as the day before.
I did notice a couple of them gripping cups of coffee from Gregory's shop, and some were nibbling on croissants that made me hungry. I was on the phone with him when I walked through the back door and turned on the lights in the shop.
"I'm going to have to start making extra pastries in the morning if you're going to make a habit of filling up the sidewalks with customers from now on," Gregory said when he answered.
"Speaking of which," I said. "I think I need a croissant to handle this workday. And some coffee. Maybe a muffin."
He laughed. "Welcome to being a hotspot, honey. I'll have those right over to you."
I hung up with a tingling feeling in the middle of my chest and a smile I couldn't get to budge off my face. A hotspot? Did he really think I was a hotspot? That was the exact description I'd thought about, but that was a long-term goal type of thing. I didn't really think it was going to happen so quickly.
Maybe it wasn't. Maybe this was all just residuals from Sam coming by, and after a couple of days it was all going to die down. But even if that was the case, I was going to latch on to every bit of success this was bringing me and make the most out of it.
As soon as Gregory sent over my order, and he refused my money as a thanks for the extra business and wave of orders he'd gotten the last two days, I set them on the counter and opened the door. It was a few minutes early, but if there were customers there already I didn't want to keep them waiting.
"Good morning," I said. "Come on in."
"Thank you," the first woman in line said. "I heard about this place from my sister. She was here yesterday and said it was wonderful."
"Thank you," I said. "Look around. I hope you enjoy it."
The next group that came in were too busy chattering amongst themselves, strategizing for how they were going to find the perfect outfits for a themed event coming up, to pay attention to me. They headed right in the direction of the clothes they were looking for, which told me they were here the day before. There had been too many customers coming in too quick a succession for me to memorize all the faces, but they looked like they were on a mission.
Another woman came by and told me she was there on a recommendation from a friend who had been at the signing. She admitted under her breath she wasn't a fan of Sam's music, so she didn't come to the event with her friend, but she was very excited about the other items I offered. I giggled with her conspiratorially, refreshed at her honesty even if it was at Sam's expense.
"Do you have vintage lunch trays?"
I turned around toward the question and found a tall, thin man with vibrant pink hair and a Mr. Bubble t-shirt that looked straight out of his childhood in the seventies.
"Lunch trays?" I asked.
"From the fifties. You know, the ones they had in elementary schools with all the different little compartments for the food. They had pink ones and bowls to match. I have one of them and I want a whole set," he said.
I wasn't sure what constituted a set of cafeteria trays from the fifties, and he didn't give me any more details.
"I don't have anything like that specifically," I said. "But I do have some kitchenware and lunchboxes from that era if you'd be interested."
"Absolutely," he said. "Show me the way."
I loved his enthusiasm and couldn't help but grin as I showed him to the corner of the shop where I stocked dishes, cooking ware, and even a couple of vintage appliances. His eyes lit up when he saw them.
"Let me know if I can help you with anything else," I said.
He nodded and I went back to the front of the shop to try to get a few bites and sips in. It turned out my breakfast was going to be a fairly drawn-out affair, as I stopped every couple of seconds to ring someone up, answer a question, or show a customer to what they were looking for.
The shop had been open for nearly two hours when my phone rang. I happened to be near it and glanced over to see Amy's name on the screen. I grabbed it and held it between my ear and my shoulder as I tried to piece a display back together.
"Hey," I said. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," she said. "I think all the sleep and ginger ale finally did its job."
I laughed. "Be careful with the hard stuff there."
"I was calling to see if you need any help," she said.
"Yes," I said, maybe too enthusiastically. "The place is still a mess from the signing yesterday and there are a ton of customers. There are actually so many people in here right now some are lining up at the door."
"That's great," she said.
"It would be even better if some of the stock from the back was out on the shelves," I said.
"No worries. I'll be there in just a few," Amy said.
I got off the phone just in time for customers to come toward the register from three directions.
Amy got to the store ten minutes later and seamlessly jumped in at the second register on the other end of the counter. As we were checking customers out, I could hear my phone ringing and alerting me to texts but I couldn't stop to look. When we had a break in the line for a couple minutes, I slipped from behind the counter to go to the small storage room in the back for more stock.
The man with the pink hair took a vintage glass pitcher emblazoned with lemons out of my hands before I could even make it all the way to the shelf.
"It has matching glasses," I said.
"Bring them," he said.
I laughed and headed back for the storage room to get the box where I'd stored the glasses. He was waiting at the counter with the rest of his haul when I brought them up.
"Here you go," I said. "You'll be all ready for your summer cookouts."
"How did I not know about this place sooner?" he asked, a sense of almost misty awe on his voice.
I grinned. "Well, now you know where to find me."
"Yes, I do," he said. "I'll definitely be back."
Amy gave me a proud look when the next wave of customers left with their purchases.
"I told you," she said.
"You told me?" I asked.
"That this place was going to be the next big thing. That you had really had something here and people were going to catch on soon."
"I just hope it keeps going," I said.
She grinned and started helping me hang clothes that had been taken off a display.
"It will. We're going to get your marketing going and it will all just keep going up from here."
Her encouragement nearly brought tears to my eyes and motivated me to work even harder. The rest of the day went by quickly, but with her there to help it was smooth and fun. I heard my phone going off several times, but I couldn't stop to answer. I'd catch up on everything when I was done for the day and didn't feel rushed.
"Could you count down the registers?" I asked Amy. "I'm going to take the trash out and get a couple more things from the back room."
She nodded. "Sure thing."
"Thanks."
I picked up my phone and brought it with me as I carried the bag of trash out to the back to toss in the dumpster. As I walked back inside, I looked at my messages and saw I had a text from Sam.
"I have to go. We're heading for the bus. I want to see you before I leave."
The message made my stomach drop. I looked at the time and saw he sent the message a couple of hours before. My heart squeezed. I might have missed him. I quickly texted him back, asking if he'd left yet. I figured he probably had but it was a relief when he said they were still there, waiting in a bus outside the hotel.
"Will you come?" his next text asked.
I rushed inside to ask Amy to finish closing up the shop so I could get to him. He was on the bus, which meant the rest of the band was ready to go. I didn't want to risk them forcing him to leave before I could get to him and at least get a chance to say goodbye.
"Amy," I called from the stock room as I gathered up an armful of things to put out. "I need your help."
She came to the door and started to take things out of my hands.
"Don't try to carry so much," she said. "You're going to drop everything."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I don't need your help with this. I meant I need you to finish closing up for me. Can you do that? I know you just came back, and I'm sorry to put all this one you, but Sam texted and the band is leaving. They’re sitting on their bus at the hotel. I need to get to him."
"Of course," Amy said. "You go. Don't worry about any of this. I can do it."
"Thank you so much," I said.
I brought the items out to the front of the shop and set them down, then pulled out my phone again. I was going to text Sam back to let him know I was on my way, but before I could send the message another showed up. This one was from Trevor. I was done caring what he thought, or forcing myself to read every message he sent because I was too afraid to not know what he was thinking. I started to swipe the message away, but a picture appeared on my screen.
As soon as I saw it, it stopped me cold.
