Libby was amazed, and it was one less financial worry. If Goldie was handling the hotel, well, Libby could deal with a million other issues on the front burner. And a cash infusion, maybe she could start renovating across the street. She cycled through her list of projects.
Speaking of burners…
“You’re going to make it tonight, right?” Libby asked Hope.
“Yep, I’ll load up with leftovers; goodness knows we had them from service last night. Bad enough that we’re not doing dinner again until Saturday night.”
Libby hated to hear this. Her friend had worked so hard to make the perfect place. Libby had watched her blossom. But now, it could whither if Libby didn’t get her end of the deal settled.
“I promise, it’s priority one.”
“So, no luck on our rental idea for the space next door?” J.J. said.
“No, but what about you do J.J’s salon on the other end, Sandbar Sisters on each end of the block? It’s perfect.”
Libby was trying to get J.J. to break away from Hairdo or Dye and open a place of her own.
“If her frosted cupcakes don’t get butts in the seats, my frosted tips won’t.”
“Fair point.”
As they ate, they hashed out ideas to increase foot traffic, and they talked about possible ways to getFood Magazineto do a feature on Hope’s Table. All were good ideas, but none of them were as good as Chef Remi in Covert Pier.
As they talked, a group of diners entered. It was late in the lunch service. But it was nice to see.
“Hey, maybe the word is getting out?” J.J. gave Hope the thumbs up.
Hope left the group and got to work serving the surprise influx of guests.
They finished their meals, Patrick picked up Aunt Emma, J.J. headed back to the salon, and Libby was left to puzzle out her latest conundrum.
She left Hope to answer questions about her unique menu.
Libby stepped out onto the sidewalk and noticed more traffic than usual.
Maybe this was working. Maybe in increments, people were taking a little ride to Irish Hills.
She noticed cars parking in the spots along Green Street. She saw people walking, looking around, and taking pictures.
It was great. Goldie had decided to buy the hotel, for whatever reason, and there were tourists trying Hope’s restaurant. It was okay. It was all going to be okay.
She decided to head back to the little office space she was using over the proposed mercantile space.
How did Traverse City become a hot spot? How did Waco? She knew how it happened for Covert Pier. It was the will and might of a billionaire.
What it came down to was they needed a big splash. Sure, they could slowly build, but they needed that film festival idea, or a food festival or a fair if they were going to bring folks in. Thanks to Aunt Emma’s leveraging everything they owned, they needed a fast fix, not a slow build. Though it was nice to have Goldie’s infusion of cash. She knew Goldie didn’t want to be the town spokesperson, but investment from someone so high profile couldn’t hurt.
Libby made a dozen calls. She was pitching the Irish Hills as hard as she could. But maybe, this was all too fast.
In reality, she’d moved here, pushed back Stirling Stone, and renovated the retail space in a matter of months.
She looked out the window at the street below.
Her phone rang. It was J.J.
“I think we have a problem.”
“Yeah, what?”
