“Four percent is not nothing. My Valentine’s was down nine percent.”
“Oh, honey, I’m—” Shelly starts.
“Up!” I say louder than usual. Frustration does that. I use it and blurt, “My Valentine’s wasupnine percent and I think I have an idea!”
Steven gasps.
Madison drops something in the kitchen, probably shocked.
Everyone is silent, staring with their mouths open. Tyrone is smiling wider than I’ve seen in months. I take another deep breath and then slowly, deliberately, I start talking. Out loud.
CHAPTER 4
Aiden
I adjust my cuff links and inhale the cold air as I step out onto the crumbling street.
Victory is near, I can sense it.
I stare up at the sign in disbelief. A record store called Let It Spin, complete with a snowflake-turned-vinyl record in the logo. A logo likely from the 80s…the last era in which this town was viable.
I look down the street.
The bakery, the grocer, the pharmacy. Blinking lights, swaying signs, flags, marquees. Clutter. All soon to be smooth, flat, deep black asphalt. Covered in the cars of the patrons that will fill my accounts and sing my praises to the tune of five star reviews and even more patrons, on and on.
Well, not my praises, of course. The resort’s praises by way of Vanderwell Holdings by way of Dad by way of me.
Close enough.
I don’t much care for the praise anyway. Never received any. Dad can have it all.
I see the potential in Juniper Falls’ underlying bones.
I see numbers in a massive set of spreadsheets. Numbers that obliterate the competition,finally.
I want the kitchsy little town. I’m taking it.
Simple as that.
“It is quite charming,” Mildred says. Again.
I gesture over my shoulder. “Then turn in that direction. All the charm on that side of the street will still be there.”
“You know that won’t be true after a year or two. I’m sure you already have a developer waiting to fill the units with Lululemon and Ralph Lauren.”
“Be reasonable, Mildred. We’re close to New York. Louis Vuitton is a much better fit.”
“It’s unnerving when you joke,” she deadpans right back at me.
I shrug, “You know I love these final meetings.”
She sighs, “Maybe they’ll fight back.”
“They never do,” Renaldo grumbles.
“Quick reminder that it’s Vanderwell on your paychecks, not Juniper whatsit,” I say as we reach the door, not really bothered. My staff and I get on quite well. Not sure why they’ve taken up for this particular underdog. And positive it won’t matter.
I step into the record store, eyes scanning. Not for her, necessarily. But sheisa puzzle. Harper, Ben said is her name. The Roasted Chestnut. Annoying name, amazing products.
