“I think so, too.”’
“I’m glad you’re here, and so is Cole, from what I gather.” Libby winked at Siena.
She blushed. “We’re just hanging out. I like him. Let’s not get crazy.”
“Oh, I’m going to get crazy. I plan to use you as an example to convince my kids that Irish Hills is the place to be. Luring country music stars here is one thing, but twenty-somethings I gave birth to? That’s the real trick!”
“I don’t know about me as an example. But use me how you need. I love this place.”
She hoped the feeling was mutual. It was about time to see if the town and the tourists loved her back. Libby said foot traffic would likely start late in the morning.
“Getting up early to shop isn’t a vacation vibe, but they’ll still be here before lunch. I’ll pop in later if I get a minute.”
“Thanks, Aunt Libby.”
Libby left, and Alison, her one and only employee, arrived. Vivian Blackwood Boutique was open for business and officially a part of Irish Hills. Siena’s play to save her mom’s life’s work was underway.
She took a breath and straightened the table of scarves for the four-thousandth time.
Alison was at the checkout. Siena had outfitted Alison in a Vivian Blackwood pair of trousers and a silk blouse. If the concept took off, she’d be sure that all the employees were dripping in Vivian Blackwood Designs. Alison was a little shorter than Siena but still tall, with long legs. She looked great in the chic ensemble, but something was out of place. Siena couldn’t put her finger on what. She chalked it up to first-day jitters.
“Remember, we want to wrap the garment in the tissue and then add tissue on top of the gift bag.”
“I gotcha. Make it a gift even if someone’s buying for themselves.”
“Exactly.”
As Libby predicted, their first customer walked in at 10:30 am. Not quite morning and not quite lunch.
Three ladies, who looked to be her mom’s age, maybe a little older, slowly wound their way through the boutique.
“Welcome to Vivian Blackwood Boutique. Our newest pieces are along this wall, and the classics are right here. I’m Siena.”
They nodded, and Siena gave them space. She hated to be hovered over when she shopped. It was a delicate mix of helping a customer and suffocating their experience.
She pretended to busy herself as she watched the women circle.
They passed the rack of blouses, the new blazers, and even the scarves. Siena had the scarves out as a “just in case” kind of thing. Just in case they didn’t need bigger pieces but wanted a little Vivian Blackwood cache.
Siena was a little crestfallen as the women sniffed by each rack. Nothing she had on the racks was soliciting body language that suggested they’d even like to try something on.
Finally, a question from the first woman through the door.
“This print of the lilacs on the wall, how much? It really would be just the thing for my front hall.”
Siena walked over and looked at the botanical watercolor that she’d purchased to warm up the space.
She did not have it on display to buy, but then she started calculating. She had five more in the back. She’d planned to rotate them in and out to keep the space fresh. Heck with it. She’d sell it. She doubled the price she’d paid for it at the Tecumseh Trade Center.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ll take it.”
“Lovely, we can wrap it up, and Alison can help you take it out to your car.”
“Thank you so much.”
Siena stepped over to the cash register.
“Alison, can you go get the step stool and get the painting for me. I’ll ring this up.”
