“Yeah, the things that make us feel comfort during the holidays. Things we feel guilty splurging on during other times of the year unless it’s a gift from someone.”
Tipping my chin up for an extended pause, I returned to my squinty eyes and dropped my head in a sharp nod.
“Yo, Kael!” one of his aproned employees called him.
“Listen…” he started to turn, but he kept his eyes on me as his hand slid into his pocket and pulled out a small card “…the cooking classes are more like a social hour with wine where I force everyone to make their own food. Come for free next Friday and bring a friend. Seven o’clock. Right when your store closes.” He winked, pretty proud of himself for knowing that. Then he handed me the card (a voucher for a free class) and turned, zig-zagging his way to the checkout. Kael smiled and thanked everyone in his path for visiting his store.
At Smith’s, we thanked them when they walked out the door or made a purchase. Based on the way his customers added five new items to their baskets after he showed his appreciation, accompanied with that Captain America smile, I needed to up my greeting game. Brilliant marketing: make them feel appreciated and they’ll carry a spark of indebtedness to buy something just because you showed a smile and gratitude for them walking through your door—before they’d made up their mind on the purchase.
Well, I wasn’t going to buy anything, but Elsie seems so appreciative that I’m here, I’ll go ahead and buy this candle in a jar. As if I need one more ugly candle in a jar.
The classics. Smith’s sold the classics. I’m pretty sure that was code for outdated shit no one wanted anymore. Kael didn’t open a fitness studio, but he might as well have opened one. Everything in his store gave off a trendy, healthy vibe.
Organic, cold-pressed oils.
Posh flavored vinegars.
Natural this.
Fair-trade that.
My large tins—filled with GMO popcorn covered in high-fructose corn syrup, salt, and artificial flavorings and colorings—felt anything but trendy and healthy.
Kale Kael.
Artificial Elsie.
Just … great.Chapter FiveIt’s hard to love a man who puts your bank account into the negative, buying foot porn on the internet.* * *“It’s a specialty food store!” I ran my hands through my hair before pouring a generous glass of wine for myself on Amie’s deck. It overlooked a pond filled with geese and ducks, lending a sense of privacy.
She hugged one leg to her chest and swirled her wine with her other hand as the wind caught her blond hair, which made me slightly jealous. It was a few shades lighter than my hot mess of brown and random grays I fought to hide. “It’s apples and oranges. Not that many crossover items. Maybe the hot chocolate. And you’re still going to be the top pick for gifts. Hello! Popcorn. Sausage. Cheese. Do you really think people are going to forego their favorites for a bottle of vinegar?”
“Yes.” I nodded a half dozen times. “If I gave a tin of popcorn to my friends and family every year but had the chance to give them a bottle of white balsamic vinegar infused with quince and pomegranate, I totally would do it. I don’t even know what quince is! But that’s what would make it such a cool gift. And cooking classes that people will love. They’ll do girls’ nights and birthday parties. It’s a brilliant marketing idea. I’m sure he’ll use all the fabulous products from his store, and he’ll make money on the classes and all of the products people buy after the class. I can’t compete with that. I can’t compete with him. I mean, did you see his apron? Come on!” My hand jerked with my frustration, splashing wine onto the deck.
Amie chuckled and sipped her wine. “You mean … did I see him? And hell yes. I can’t stop seeing him. He should come with a warning. But … you always said running that store wasn’t going to be your destiny. If he runs you out of business, maybe that’s a sign, the opportunity to do something for you.”
Her words packed a punch. I had said that—so many times—but that was before Craig died and the fate of the store landed in my hands. As long as his parents were still alive, I didn’t have the heart to close the store, move out of Epperly, and follow new dreams.
Guilt was a wide, all-encompassing storm that I couldn’t escape, so I’d weather it every single day.
“I think helping them stay in their home is enough. At this point, it’s probably too much. But I know why you do it,” Amie said with reverence in her voice.
I sipped more wine and focused on the birds congregating on the water. “If I say they won’t live forever, that sounds horrible, like I’m waiting for them to die. If I say I don’t mind and my dreams don’t matter, then I’m lying. The truth feels really selfish, so I just ignore it. Leaving Craig wasn’t going to be easy. Divorcing him would have felt like divorcing his family. And I knew he wouldn’t let them stay in their house for long after I stopped taking care of things for them. But I was okay with that. I knew it would be on his shoulders—his conscience dealing with that. Not now. It’s all me now. Can I really be responsible for Craig’s death and his parents losing the last of their independence?”