Читать книгу Already Home - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 9

Violet arrived at nine-thirty, per usual. The store opened at ten, which gave her a half hour to get things in order. If nothing else, she needed to make sure they had enough cash on hand to make change. Less of a problem in a store where no one bought much of anything, but she had high hopes that eventually they would start to move product.

She pulled in next to Jenna’s Subaru, then walked to the back door and used her key to let herself in. To the left was the small restroom, to the right, the storage area. Boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling. Jenna had ordered with the idea that she would be selling things in the first week of business. Once they’d realized the store wasn’t going to be an instant success, it had been too late to cancel the deliveries.

A sale might work, Violet thought. Although it wouldn’t help the bottom line. Still, they had to start moving inventory or they would physically run out of space to put everything.

She made her way through the towering stacks of boxes to the entrance of the store. Jenna sat by the kitchen area, a small folding table set up in front of her. There were several pads of paper, a few pens and a waiting coffee from Starbucks.

Jenna looked up and smiled. “Oh, good. You’re here. I have news. We’re closed.”

Violet felt her mouth start to drop open. She consciously kept it closed and did her best not to let any emotion show.

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“Not permanently,” Jenna added with a smile. “At least I hope not. I’m a little punchy. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Everything’s a mess. It’s my fault. I didn’t plan this at all. The store, I mean. You talked about research and projections and I don’t know what any of that is. I literally stood in the parking lot, saw the ‘For Lease’ sign and called because I didn’t know what else to do.”

Violet pulled out the second folding chair and sank down. “I’d wondered,” she admitted. “You didn’t seem really prepared.”

“Clueless is the word you’re looking for,” Jenna said with a laugh. “You can say it. I won’t mind.”

“I prefer overly optimistic.”

“Very PC,” Jenna said. “So in my hours of not sleeping, I thought about what needs to happen to make this place successful. I have every penny I own tied up in this store. Failure isn’t an option. I want to close for a couple of days while we come up with a plan and get it ready to implement. Then we’ll have a big reopening.” She leaned forward. “Violet, you’re the only one at this table who knows anything about retail. What do you think we should do?”

Violet was surprised by the question. Based on what she knew about Jenna, she’d been expecting a chart with a couple of lists.

“What kind of changes are you open to?” she asked tentatively.

“Anything. Everything. If you want me to paint the floors green and sell caterpillars, I will.”

Violet’s mouth twitched. “That might be going a little too far.”

“Maybe, but you get my point. I know how to cook. I think I do a decent job explaining how to make something. But that’s it. You were right about having stuff to sell. Not just big-ticket items. We need people coming back week after week, buying things. So how do we do that? I want the classes to be more exciting. I want people enthused. Tell me how to make that happen.”

Violet looked at her boss. Jenna seemed to be telling the truth. She was intense but focused. “The store has a lot of potential,” she began. “A great location.”

“That’s what I thought. Well, in the fifteen seconds I considered before signing the lease.”

“You got lucky,” Violet told her.

“Let’s hope it wasn’t the last time.” Jenna watched as Violet seemed to consider her words. She leaned toward her. “I need you to be honest with me. Just say it. I promise I won’t be upset.”

Violet drew a breath. “Okay. There are a lot of different things you can do to bring people in and keep them coming back. For starters, lose the white coat. Yes, you’re a chef, but it’s intimidating. You want people to believe they can do what you do. That it’s easy and fun. Dress like your customers. Maybe a little better.”

Jenna did her best not to wince. “I love my white coat, but I see your point. My only concern is all my nice clothes are going to get stained. Cooking can be messy.”

Violet thought for a second. “What about aprons? You could wear different ones depending on what we’re cooking. They could be fun and we could sell them.”

“Sure. If you think anyone will buy them.”

“They will if they think they’ll help make the meal taste better.”

“It’s just an apron.”

“It’s all about making people feel better about what they do.”

Jenna made a note on her pad. “What’s next?”

“Recipes. We have to have them to give out. And we should always have a food sample to offer customers along with the recipe so they can go home and make it that night.” She hesitated. “I mentioned this before, but …”

“Tell me again,” Jenna urged. “What?”

“We should offer the items necessary to make the recipe. Put it in bags or baskets or whatever. All the ingredients, except the fresh stuff. So if it requires a can of tomatoes and pasta, they buy that here. We can go slightly gourmet, charge more and have a better profit margin. Sure the markup on a can of tomatoes isn’t much, but multiply that by a hundred and it starts to pay the rent.”

Jenna had never considered selling food. Her first instinct was to say no, but look at where her instincts had gotten her so far.

“That would work,” she said slowly, thinking about some of her favorite recipes. “Especially when there are hard-to-find ingredients. I could special order items. Although some of them do require refrigeration.”

“If they have a limited shelf life, we can tell people they have to preorder. Then they can stop by, pick up the food and then go home and cook it.” Violet straightened in her chair. “We could do classes on cooking for company. A few impressive-looking but easy-to-prepare meals. After the class, people could give us a few days’ notice and come by to pick up all the ingredients, then go home and make the meal.”

“That sounds like fun,” Jenna said. In the past she’d always cooked what interested her, but maybe she could think about what other people would enjoy, as well. She might not think appetizers were that compelling, but then she wasn’t hosting a cocktail party for twenty.

And speaking of cocktails … “What about a bartender?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What if we had a bartender come in and show how to mix different drinks?” She frowned. “That might require a liquor license. But maybe we could set up something with one of the local restaurants around here. All those fancy drinks can seem intimidating.”

Now Violet was taking notes. “I like that. It would bring in a younger crowd. Not that I don’t love the ladies who lunch.”

“They do have money.” Jenna thought about her friends. Okay, not friends, but still. They were a potential customer group. “Mothers,” she said slowly. “What can we do with them?”

“Healthy, organic cooking,” Violet said immediately. “Maybe classes on baby food or what to feed toddlers. Remember that cookbook on burying vegetables into regular food? Something like that.”

“I like it,” Jenna said. “We could also feature a different cookbook every week. Cook two or three recipes. That would encourage people to try different styles of cooking.” Plus it would be safe for her. Someone else’s recipe.

“And give us a chance to sell specialty cooking items,” Violet added. “Woks, different pans. That kind of thing, not to mention the cookbooks themselves. Oh, and don’t forget the singles.”

“What do you mean? Cooking for one? Isn’t that kind of sad?”

Violet laughed. “Yes, but those of us who live alone have to eat, too.”

“I live alone,” Jenna said. “I just whip up something.”

“That’s because you know how. Those of us who aren’t blessed with your cooking background are forced to eat frozen dinners night after night. If we advertised that class in the right places, we could get a lot of people. Meeting someone in a cooking class is a whole lot more appealing than meeting someone in a bar.”

“Sure,” Jenna said. Singles. She never would have thought of that. But it made sense.

They continued brainstorming. Violet suggested a website.

“I know a guy who does decent work for not a lot of money,” she said. “Want me to have him write up a proposal?”

“Yes. My online experience is limited to finding professional cookware on sale.”

By eleven, they had a master plan in place. Violet left to talk to the web guy and set up the newspaper advertising. Jenna investigated cookbooks, and came up with a cooking class schedule. She also bit the bullet and bought a large refrigerator for the back room. If they were going to sell perishables, she would need a place to store them.

She drove to the small print shop her mother had recommended and ordered flyers, copies of recipes, raffle tickets, and discussed the cost of getting custom-screened aprons with the store’s logo. At quarter to five, she returned to the store to find Violet laying printouts of an initial web design on the counter.

“He was bored,” Violet said cheerfully. “I love it when that happens. He threw this together in about an hour and I have to say I think it’s great.”

Jenna bent over the different pages. The design was clean, the colors bright. On the side and top were navigation buttons for recipes, cookware, gadgets and more.

They played with the design and made a few changes.

“What about this?” Violet asked. “Move this button here?” She’d barely finished speaking when her stomach growled.

Jenna stared at her. “Didn’t you stop for lunch?”

“No. I was busy.”

Jenna stacked the papers together. “We’ll finish this tomorrow. You’ve already put in a full day. You need to eat. Go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Violet hesitated. “Want to get a margarita at Dos Salsas?”

The invitation was unexpected. Jenna instantly felt both awkward and shy. It had been years since she’d made a new friend, she thought. Most of the people she worked with in restaurants were guys, and the friends in her life had all been Aaron’s. She certainly hadn’t kept in touch with her friends from here—her uncomfortable coffee date had proven that.

She wanted to say it was their fault, but she hadn’t called, either. The question was why. Another area that required self-exploration, she told herself. Why had meeting Aaron and getting involved with him changed her so much? It was like he was a star in the heavens and she was simply a circling planet.

“It wasn’t supposed to be a hard question,” Violet said quietly. “It’s okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Nothing on the other woman’s face gave away what she was thinking, but Jenna knew she’d hurt her.

“No, wait. I’d love to get a margarita.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I got caught up in thinking about my ex. Don’t ask me how. Sometimes my brain is a scary place.”

“Mine, too.” Violet smiled. “Let’s go.”

“I swear, if you can figure out what they put in their nachos, I’ll give you my life savings.” Violet grabbed another chip as she spoke.

Jenna eyed the plate in front of them, then smiled. “How much do you have in your savings?”

Violet laughed. “Not much, but there would be gratitude, too.”

“Well, if there’s gratitude, how can I say no?”

“Seriously?” Violet asked. “You could make these?”

“Sure. Re-creating a recipe isn’t that hard.”

“Maybe not for you. I’ve tried a couple of times and I can’t do it.”

“I’ll show you how.”

Violet looked both pleased and surprised. “That’s really nice of you.”

“Hardly. You’re saving my business. I seriously owe you.”

“I’m helping. There’s a difference.”

Not in this case, Jenna thought, but she wasn’t going to push. She didn’t want to make Violet uncomfortable.

She took a sip of her margarita and glanced around the bar. It was big and open, with dark wood beams and ceiling fans. There wasn’t a huge crowd yet, but she saw plenty of people and conversation.

She felt good, she realized. She had a plan to get the store up and running.

“I like all the changes we’ve come up with,” she said, grabbing another chip. “Now if only I hadn’t screwed up in the first place.”

“You’re really hard on yourself,” Violet said.

“No, I’m …” Jenna pressed her lips together. “Maybe I am. An old habit.” She thought about how critical she was of herself. “I wish I could blame my parents, but I can’t.”

“I know your mom’s great.”

“My dad’s just as supportive. I didn’t grow up feeling like I was always wrong. I was pretty normal.”

Violet glanced at her. “Tell me what normal is like.”

“You say that like you don’t know.”

Violet hesitated. “Everyone’s normal is different. What was yours?”

Jenna wanted to talk about Violet instead but had the feeling it wasn’t good to push. “Usual high school experience. Some fun, plenty of angst. I went to college, joined a sorority, couldn’t pick a major. Nothing really appealed to me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I got tired of the liberal arts classes. By my second year, I was spending more time in the house kitchen than anywhere else. That summer I had a long talk with my parents about my future. I wasn’t sure what to do.” She smiled. “My dad is the one who suggested culinary school.”

“Smart man.”

“He is. I was stunned, but it felt right. I headed off to Dallas and discovered I loved to cook. The classes were great. I stayed an extra semester just so I could learn more. I had several job offers when I graduated. I took one in Phoenix—mostly to live somewhere different. I was working at a restaurant when I met Aaron.”

“What’s he like?”

“Charming,” she admitted. “He’s the guy who walks in the room and knows exactly what to say to everyone. He can convince you of anything. I loved being around him, but at the same time when I was with him I felt different. I can’t explain it.”

Violet picked up her margarita. “Less shiny?”

Jenna considered the description. “Yes. That’s it. I felt less than I’d been before. Looking back I can see that he wasn’t especially brilliant in the kitchen, but he convinced us all he was. For years, I told myself I couldn’t keep up. I guess that’s when I started putting myself down.”

She hesitated. “I used to be so inventive in my cooking. Aaron would pick my ideas apart, make me feel they weren’t any good, then a few weeks later, they would show up on the menu. When I asked about that, he said he’d made changes, improved them. But I wasn’t ever sure he did. I used to take chances.”

She pressed her lips together. “Sorry. Too much information.”

“It’s not. What you’re saying makes a lot of sense.”

“You mean it explains why I’m not willing to do anything without charts and a plan? Structure makes me feel safe. It wasn’t always that way.”

Violet eyed her over the glass. “Don’t take this wrong, but I don’t think you started it. I’ll bet it was Aaron.”

“You think?”

Jenna thought about their relationship. She wanted to say he’d always been there for her. That he was supportive. But she knew it wasn’t true.

“He wanted me to be less than him,” she said slowly.

“Maybe you scared him.”

“Nothing scared Aaron.”

“Everyone is afraid of something.” Violet spoke with a confidence Jenna envied. “If a guy pretends he’s not, he’s faking it. Trust me. I have experience when it comes to lousy guys. Show me a nice guy who wants to take me out and treat me well and I yawn. Parade a few losers in front of me and I can’t get there fast enough.”

“That’s not good,” Jenna said.

“Tell me about it. I have a whole list of wonderful men I’m not the least bit interested in. When you’re ready for rebound guy, just let me know. I can suggest a couple dozen.”

Jenna laughed. “I’m not the rebound guy type.”

“Sure you are. Everyone is. It’s kind of required. You’ve ended one relationship and you need to think about starting the next. Rebound guy gives you confidence.”

“What does he get out of it?”

“Sex with minimal effort. Guys love that.”

Jenna shifted in her seat. “I’ve never been much of a guy magnet. I’m not sure rebound guy will be worth the effort it’ll take to get him.”

Violet raised her dark eyebrows. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? The effort we’re talking about is little more than wearing a short skirt and smiling.”

If only, Jenna thought wryly. “I’m not good with guys.”

“I doubt that, but even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. The rebound relationship is about having fun. You get out there and remind yourself that yes, you can have a good time with someone else. You go out a couple of times, have hot sex, wake up feeling refreshed and move on.”

Jenna wondered what Violet would say if she confessed to the fact that she’d only been with one other guy before Aaron. The thought of sex with a stranger was terrifying.

“My parents met in college,” she said. “They knew right away that they were meant for each other. I always thought it would be like that for me.”

“I didn’t know it was like that for anyone,” Violet murmured.

“I was holding out for perfect. Instead I got Aaron.”

“Maybe it’s time to try fun instead.”

“I’ve never thought of dating as fun,” Jenna admitted. “I guess I was doing it wrong.”

“You’re doing it again,” Violet said.

“Doing. Oh, right.” The put-down thing.

What was with her? When had she become that kind of person—always seeing the worst in herself?

“Okay,” she said, straightening. “Rebound guy. You swear it’s fun?”

“It can be. Give it some thought and when you’re ready, I’ll hook you up with Mr. Blow Your Socks Off.” Violet grinned. “Unless you have other things you want him to blow on.”

Jenna felt herself blush. She sipped her margarita. “It’s been a long time,” she admitted in a whisper.

“Then we’ll get going on that.”

“Business first, sex second.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to reverse those?” Violet teased.

“I have rent to make.”

“Fair enough. But when you want the sock thing, just let me know and I’ll find you someone completely inappropriate.”

Jenna laughed. “I’d like that. It doesn’t sound like me at all and I’m starting to think that might be a good thing.”

Violet pushed her cart through the grocery store. It wasn’t where she usually shopped, but after running a couple of errands in Austin, she’d impulsively pulled into the parking lot of the upscale establishment. Maybe hanging out with Jenna was rubbing off on her.

With that in mind, she ignored the frozen food aisle and walked purposefully toward the produce. The area was huge and well-lit, with rows of fruits and vegetables neatly arranged. She saw more types of lettuce than she’d ever seen in one place. Tomatoes were yellow and nearly purple, as well as red.

She quickly collected salad fixings, grabbed a gourmet salad dressing from the refrigerated shelves, then headed for the fresh pasta section. Tonight she was going to cook herself a real dinner. A real easy dinner, but still, it was progress.

As she maneuvered her cart, she noticed how nicely everyone was dressed. Men in suits. Women in expensive-looking jackets, with tailored skirts and great shoes. She saw a flash of red sole and stared, wondering if someone really was wearing Christian Louboutin shoes in a grocery store.

Trying to see the side of the shoe to decide if she liked the style, she wasn’t looking where she was going and came to a shuddering stop as her cart collided with someone else’s.

She glanced up. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

The cart’s handler—a tall, suit-wearing guy—smiled at her. “I could tell. What was more interesting than—” he looked to his left and picked up a bottle “—imported olives?”

She smiled. “Shoes. A female cliché, if there ever was one.”

“Shoes, huh? Your thing?”

“I’m more a looker than a buyer. Sorry about the cart attack.”

She started to go around him, but he maneuvered himself in front of her and gave her a smile.

“Wait. I have a question about these olives,” he said.

“What makes you think I know anything about them?”

“Women always have knowledge about anything mysterious.”

“You think of olives as mysterious?”

“And you don’t, which proves my point.”

He had sandy brown hair and hazel-brown eyes. His expression was friendly and interested without being too aggressive. His suit looked expensive but not crazy. He was clean-shaven, broad-shouldered and normal-looking. Not at all her type.

She would have excused herself and walked away except she was tired of always getting it wrong. Every guy in her life had been a disaster, probably because when it came to men, her gut didn’t know what it was talking about.

So maybe she should ignore her lack of interest and see what else the nice man had to say. It was unlikely this one would steal her credit card or buy a car in her name, then not make payments.

“Olives can be difficult,” she said, moving her cart to the side so other people could get by. “Now, when the oil is difficult, you know you’re in trouble.”

He laughed. The sound was low and pleasant. Easy. As if he were the kind of guy who laughed a lot.

“I’m Cliff,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Violet.”

“Nice to meet you, Violet.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” She paused, not sure what to say next.

Cliff continued to smile at her, as if she were the brightest part of his day. “I work in finance, which sounds more impressive than it is. I’ve been in town about five months and the only people I know are the ones on my floor at work. I’m putting in eighty hours a week because I don’t know what else to do with my time. Have dinner with me?”

Nice, she thought. The guy was nice. And, of course, she wasn’t the least bit interested.

“Thanks, but no.”

He gazed into her eyes. “I know meeting a guy in a grocery store isn’t much better than meeting a guy in a bar. What do you really know about me, right? Giving me your number wouldn’t be safe. So let me give you my card.”

He withdrew a card from his suit jacket pocket. “My work number is there, along with my cell. How about next Tuesday?”

“I don’t get to Austin much. I live in Georgetown,” she said without thinking, not sure what to do about the invitation.

“That works for me. How about the Wildfire Restaurant? It’s next to the Palace Theater. Tell you what. I’ll be there at seven. I hope you’ll join me.”

He held out the card until she took it.

“I’m a good guy,” he told her. “Ask anyone on my floor.”

She stared at the card. The company name was one she recognized and the location was a high-rise in Austin. Apparently Cliff really did have a job, and it was a good one.

She looked up only to see he’d turned away and was already at the end of the aisle. He rounded the corner without looking back.

He probably was a good guy, she thought as she tucked the card into the back pocket of her jeans. No man had ever gone out of his way to make her feel safe before. Women like Jenna were probably well-treated all the time. They didn’t know the world could be different. But Violet did. She knew how ugly it could be.

She was tired of losers who made her heart beat faster. Of jerks who hurt her, either physically or emotionally. Jenna made normal seem pretty damned wonderful. Maybe it was time for Violet to experience normal for herself.