Goldie watched in awe. Libby was a force! She had always been, but to see her now, with a project, a tight timetable, and her true mission, was impressive. She really could have been a producer.
“Okay, so, essentially, we have about twenty-four hours before country music’s biggest stars show up downtown.”
Libby had gathered the Sandbar Sisters, Aunt Emma, Keith, Joe, Dean, Jared, the old man who owned the grocery store, another gentleman who owned the local gas station, and about half a dozen others who she didn’t know. They were meeting in the vacant retail space in the center of town.
“Hope, you’re the key. They will be here for lunch and dinner. I know you laid off servers. Can you get them back for the weekend?”
“I can try. If not, Camila can find a few pinch hitters.”
“Great.”
“I need to get out of there and get moving, though. We’re already behind.”
“Yep,” Libby said.
“And now the elephant in the room. What else are we going to have for them? I am one hundred percent a failure at getting additional retailers downtown.”
“I mean, slacker. What have you been doing, eating bonbons, as they say?” J.J. said.
“My latest attempt, the Archeologie Outlet, was swooped away by Stirling Stone.” Obviously, we’re going to have a lovely restaurant for them, but what about this space?”
Goldie had done what she thought was needed. She had invited some big names to Irish Hills, but she didn’t really understand the problems that might cause.
“I’m sorry, I thought I was, you know, helping.”
“You did, and this is a good problem. We just want them to have more than a restaurant to tour.”
“Let’s make this a funky garage sale,” Aunt Emma spoke up. For 90 years old, her voice was strong, and her ideas definitive.
“A funky garage sale?”
“You’ve got stuff in the attic at Nora House. For goodness’ sake, there’s a hundred years’ worth of junk. My friends at the assisted living, we can fill this place with doodads and antiques.”
“By tomorrow?”
“Yes, by tomorrow. If this meeting doesn’t last much longer.” Aunt Emma wasn’t one to mince words. “Dean, I need your help to haul. Let’s go.”
J.J. stifled a giggle as Dean was commandeered by Aunt Emma.
A gentleman who owned a used car lot mentioned the classic car club he belonged to.
“I bet I can get an impromptu car show going. Those guys love to show off their babies.”
“What do you need to make it happen?”
“Nothing, I’ll do it over at the dealership.”
“I love it,” Libby said.
And one by one, the people in the room offered up their ideas and their contributions.
In less than an hour, they had a car show, Aunt Emma’s funky garage sale, a quilt display in the courtyard gazebo, and a local jewelry maker was going to set up on the other end of Lake Manitou and Green Street. That would be at least three places to visit on the main drag. Libby had a clipboard, and she fielded everyone’s questions and suggestions with aplomb. It was like a movie set, in a way.
Then Joe added his idea to the mix.
“I’ve got a storage unit full of holiday lights from a party tent business I used to run. I could string those up, maybe from the gazebo to the roof line on both sides. It would look like a very Hallmark movie downtown.”
“That would be absolutely perfect. Do you need help?”
