The painting had no bar code and wasn’t in their new system. Siena rang it up under miscellaneous and pretended that she had meant to sell the art. The customer was always right, right?
They packed the art, loaded it, and Siena retrieved a replacement from the storeroom, so the wall wouldn’t be bare.
All the while, several shoppers came in, floated in circles around the store, and exited without buying a thing.
Crud.
But then, finally, a woman walked up with an actual garment.
“I’ll take this, and this one too.” The woman placed two of the kaftans that her mother had given her as an afterthought on the counter. Siena watched as Alison rang them up.
After four hours opened, they’d sold a picture off the wall and two kaftans.
“The ladies really liked the kaftans. That’s great,” Alison said.
“Yes, for sure.” Siena wanted to inspire confidence in the sole employee she had in the store. So she pretended she wasn’t feeling a stark panic in her chest. They weren’t really planning to sell the kaftans, but Alison had mistakenly put them out, and Siena hadn’t had the heart to put them in the back. Not after Libby had admired them. Ugh. Her plans were not working as she’d envisioned.
She pretended she’d expected this outcome. But she hadn’t. Her idea for the retail store was to revitalize her mom’s design business, not run it into the ground.
As she disguised her panic, another little scrum of nice ladies walked in and said no to the blazers, no to the scarves, and no to the tailored pants.
But then, a question.
“How much are you selling these table coverings for? They’re just what I need in my cottage kitchen.”
Siena did the same mental math. She wasn’t planning on selling the décor she’d curated to make the store look warm and inviting but modern at the same time, but dang it if that’s what the customer wanted, she’d sell it.
“Those are forty-nine-ninety-nine.” This was three times what she’d paid. But she had to pay Alison, for crying out loud.
The woman didn’t blink. “Great, I’ll take this one. I love it.”
Siena removed the stock off the table, swiped the table covering, and folded it. As she did, the ladies found the kaftan rack, and Alison rang up the table covering and two more kaftans.
“Thanks for coming in!” Siena said as they left.
“Wow, those kaftans are hot. How many do we have?”
“Ten, I had ten, so now, six left.”
As the day wore on, the scene replayed.
She tried to hide that she was deeply worried. One day wasn’t enough to know for sure if this was a bust, was it?
Finally, Cole came in with a takeout order of food for Siena and Alison.
They took turns eating, and Cole listened as she freaked out quietly in the back room. She didn’t want her sole employee to regret leaving her old job at Target.
“It’s like my mom’s gorgeous designs are nothing. I haven’t sold a single one. They’re gorgeous, chic, powerful, and just all the things that women want. I can’t understand it.”
“Well, I mean, maybe it’s the audience. Around here, it’s flip-flops and tennis shoes.”
“You’re a fashion marketer now?”
“Sorry, you’re right. What do I know? Just give it some time.”
She realized she’d snapped at Cole, and he was just trying to help.
“No, I’m sorry, it’s worry and panic talking. Nothing. I’ve sold nothing, and this was my idea to save Mom’s business.”
