“Did we get our wires crossed?” Libby asked.
“Actually, no, I’m so sorry, my assistant was supposed to reach out. I’m not going to be able to make it.”
This was not good. This was terrible, in fact.
“That’s okay. We can pick another time for a walk-through. I think you’ll find that it’s really the perfect spot to open. It’s an emerging location and?—”
“I have to stop you. We’ve decided on a space in Covert Pier.”
“Oh, are you sure? Without even a visit, I fear you’re missing out on a great opportunity to be in on the ground floor of what we’re doing here in Irish Hills.”
“Iappreciate it, I do, but the bottom line is foot traffic. You have none. Our business model requires foot traffic.”
“You’re part of our incentive to get that foot traffic. Everyone loves Archeologie Stores. Your plan to open outlets in small towns; it’s just brilliant and tailor-made for this location.”
“We need numbers before we commit. To be honest, having a big name is what lured us to Covert Pier. Chef Ellston’s home decor store, next to our outfitter outlet, was a no-brainer for us. His celebrity brand is powerful and growing. The town is bursting with tourists before we even get there.”
“Let me guess, you heard about Covert Pier from Stirling Stone?”
“Yes, coincidentally, our CEO and Mr. Stone were golfing, and he mentioned Covert Pier. It sort of snowballed from there. It was really meant to be.”
Meant to be? Right, meant to be. Libby tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as they finished the phone call. She didn’t want to burn any bridges. No had turned into yes more than once in her career.
“Oh, gotcha, sure. Well, congratulations, and welcome to Michigan. If something changes, you know we’d be thrilled to reopen the discussions.”
Libby had done all the work to identify the perfect tenant for the space, she’d called in favors to get in front of the decision-makers, and she’d ensured that the spot they were offering met the specs for the company’s plan for outlet versions of their retail locations. She’d put together a pitch in record time. Today she was going to seal the deal. She was going to get an Archeologie Outlet in downtown Irish Hills. A great restaurant and fantastic discount shopping would be a perfect lure for tourists here, even in the off-season.
But Stirling Stone had done it again, swooped in, hobnobbed with his rich guy network, and squished her like a bug.
She walked to the window and looked out onto the sidewalks.
No one was there, not one person.
And why would they be there? There was nothing to do in downtown Irish Hills but look at empty buildings.
She banged her head on the windowpane.
July was slipping away. They were in the height of the summer.
And yet, her little resort town was as empty as the day she’d driven down the street in April. It was just prettier now.
If she didn’t get people to Irish Hills, all the work they’d done would be for nothing.
And if she didn’t start getting rent money for all the places her aunt had rescued, she’d be down to nothing as well.
Chapter Twelve
Goldie Present Day
Goldie woke up thinking about the laughter she’s shared with Hope, J.J., and Libby the night before.
She pulled on her leggings, her tank, her sports bra, and the second pair of athletic shoes she’d packed. Thank goodness she’d packed four pairs.
Kids today called her style “extra.” But Goldie was always this way. She always traveled like she was a movie star.
Of the Sandbar Sisters, outsiders would say Goldie’s dreams were the most outlandish. She always knew she wanted to be a movie star. Growing up, adults told her it was silly. That her dreams were a little girl’s dream, like saying you wanted to be a Disney Princess.
But she wasn’t ever silly about it. She was single-minded. And her dream of being a movie star matured as she did. She wanted to be an actress.
