“I just wish I had more parking,” he says.
“Do you want to hear something that doesn’t make sense, but is true?” I ask him carefully.
“Sure,” he says.
“Well, first off, I have a business degree,” I tell him, wondering what he’ll think of that. “But that’s not the interesting part.”
“You do?” he asks, looking surprised.
“My parents made me double-major,” I say. “So I’d have something practical to fall back on.”
“No wonder you’re so good at this,” he says, gesturing at the store.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “I need to open before we’ll know how I’m doing. Theory is one thing, practice is another.”
“I get that,” he says, nodding. “So, what doesn’t make sense, but is true?”
“Not having ample parking is good for business,” I tell him. “It’s actually called the parking lot theory.”
“How?” he asks.
“Buyer psychology,” I tell him. “People want what other people want. And so it stands to reason that if there’s plenty of open parking customers might drive on by, even if they mean to come back another time.But if the place looks nice and it’s fairly crowded—well, they don’t want to miss out.”
“Interesting,” he says, frowning. “I don’t think people here follow trends like that though. We’re mountain people. Except for the city people, that is. No offense.”
“None taken,” I say, smiling at the idea that he seemed to have forgotten for a second that I’m a city girl. “But I don’t think they know they’re following something that looks hot. I think it’s just human nature to want to be part of the group.”
“You might be onto something there,” he says, nodding with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I notice your family has been helping out more,” I venture.
“Hey, speaking of my family, I have a question for you,” he tells me. “My mom was hoping you might come by for a big breakfast before the Mingle on Saturday.”
“Really?” I ask, trying not to look too excited.
From what I’ve seen so far, and heard from Meg, their family seems great, and I’m missing mine so much lately. The idea of spending a morning with a big, happy family sounds wonderful to me.
“Oh yeah,” he says. “You’re all Meg talks about lately.”
“That’s so nice,” I say, glancing over at Meg, who’s starting to look a little sleepy, but her eyes are glued toher book. “I talk about her a lot too, about both of you.”
“Is that right?” Roan asks. “Who are you talking about us with? Your city friend that likes the mountain view so much?”
I know I should be embarrassed, but I laugh instead and shake my head.
“No,” I tell him. “My grandmother. She asked me why I was so happy the other day.”
I stop myself there. We haven’t exactly put our feelings out there yet. Our first date, if it really is one, is on Saturday and we’re bringing Meg, so I feel like I’m in limbo, hoping he feels about me the way I feel about him.
And hoping that once he knows everything about me, he’ll still want to know me better.
“That’s really nice,” he says. “I’m glad you got to talk with her. How’s Florida?”
“She’s happy there and so is PopPop,” I tell him, pleased that he remembers. “That’s all I can ask.”
The door to the shop opens and a delivery guy walks in with a paper bag and three glass bottles of root beer.
Roan jogs over and greets him, shaking his hand and patting him on the back like they’re long-lost friends. They’re being quiet since Meg is nodding off, so I can’t hear what they’re saying. But it’s clear once again that Roan knowseveryonein this town.
