“And why would she be? But she’s still Viv. I am sure of it.”
Libby put a hand on Siena’s shoulder, and Siena nodded in agreement. But she didn’t really know if she believed that her mom would be okay.
“It’s okay. We all want to help her and give you a little breather too. You’re going to make this work, and we’ll help you take care of your mom. It’s going to work out. I just know it will. Come on.”
Siena had just met Libby, but she felt reassured by her. Libby’s certainty that Siena was moving in the right direction helped her stand up straighter. She lifted her chin. Maybe this wasn’t the disaster it seemed to be. Maybe there was some way to make this work.
She opened her eyes to the possibility of a bright future right here, in this summer town.
Siena was struck again by how adorable the main street was. This was Libby’s doing, but Hope’s restaurant had also helped turn Irish Hills into this stylish gem.
Irish Hills was the “in” place for country music stars when they didn’t want to be seen but also did want to be seen. That was Aunt Goldie’s contribution. Her star power was strong enough to lure other celestial bodies. It was just a touch of glamor that had put Irish Hills on the map.
All of that had helped convince Siena that her plan had been right. She loved the idea of her mom building something here. She just had to convince her mom.
Hope’s Table was red brick, and the building wrapped around the corner. There was a clear view in the back of the restaurant toward the lake. Siena imagined having a meal with the lake view. A white brick two-story space next to the restaurant displayed aFor Rentsign in the window. Then a longer lower structure stretched down the block with huge store front windows. A striped awning announced it as the Irish Hills Mercantile. Next to the Mercantile was another available retail space. At the far end, creating a book end to Hope’s Table on the block, sat the proposed space for Vivian Blackwood Boutique.
“It’s so darn cute. The spaces are just gorgeous and historic but not cookie-cutter. Wow. Are these buildings, the way they look different but charming, your influence?” Siena asked Libby.
“I was the big picture gal, and I know how to get great people to join me.” Libby raised her eyebrows at Siena. As though she thought Siena was a great person. That was nice, but right now, Siena felt like she’d fumbled. Big time.
They parked in the front of the space Siena had committed to taking for the Vivian Blackwood Shop. Siena looked down the row toward the other end, where Hope’s restaurant anchored the block.
“Are you sure about us taking this anchor end? Maybe those two smaller spaces, with the lease signs?”
“No, I’ve got ideas for them. You’re the anchor. I have this feeling you’re going to need the space.”
Siena couldn’t help imaging what the store could be. She stopped second-guessing the plan and let Libby’s enthusiasm set the tone. Siena’s mind raced over the inventory, the best sellers of Vivian Blackwood Designs, and how they would use them to fill the store.
“Our big seller was this scarf and shawl combo that works on a deck or a cruise or as a throw on your couch. I can see that selling here too.” Siena knew the product line. She’d taken photos for social, curated customer photos, and even helped model pieces her mom designed. But where a lot of girls would love the modeling aspect, Siena liked to see the whole picture. She loved watching her mom’s design process and learned the business of fashion merchandising from her dad. Bret Blackwood knew how to market a brand. That’s what her mom always said.
Siena had so much to live up to.
“Okay, so welcome to the space.” Libby opened the door.
A little bell hit the arm of the hinge. A musical little tinkle greeted customers as if this was an old general store. The space here, though, was open. It was light, obviously restored with an eye to keeping the character of the old building. You could feel the place, hoping for a dream to fill the space. Well, Siena could, anyway.
Anywhere else, Siena would guess that the floors were reproductions or reclaimed from somewhere, but to her eye, they looked original. If they weren’t, Dean Tucker had done a terrific duplicate. The front door was centered between two display windows. They could display something gorgeous from her mom’s line. Ooh, what would be best? Siena thought of her mom’s current offerings and wondered how new pieces could be featured in a way to draw people from the sidewalk into the space.
“It’s a huge rectangle, really,” Siena said.
“Yes, a blank canvas.”
Siena walked the space. She turned around.
“You’ve got a restaurant, a mercantile. What are they selling?” Siena wanted to get into the mindset of the shoppers.
“Irish Hills Mercantile has gourmet groceries items, stuff the grocery store doesn’t stock. They do pots and pans, some t-shirts, they’ve got a little souvenir section. Some of the ingredients, local produce, and local cheese that Hope uses are in the Mercantile. They’re trying to keep things in stock that you might need if you’re renting for the summer. You know, you’re there and don’t have a corkscrew or something. Between that, the hardware store and Barton’s Food Village, the basics are handled. You’re the next level of retail experience.”
Siena also knew the restaurant scene was booming.
“I can’t wait to try Aunt Hope’s restaurant.”
“Oh, and there’s a new diner across town; they’ve got really tasty family fare there if you can’t get into Hope’s. I’m trying to get an investor to reopen Tut’s Place, an old ice cream stand we used to have. That’s on my to-do list for this year and maybe next year if I can’t get to it. ”
“What about a bakery?”
“The gas station bakes donuts, But I’m still working luring a full service bakery. Maybe across the street. With a coffee shop. That stretch of buildings is in the long-term plan.”
