Page 58 of Sugar & Shadows

The door to the room creaked, and Marigold Shaw shuffled in, her leopard-print cane in one hand, a folder stuffed with papers in the other.

She froze when she saw me, her mouth pressing into a grim line. “You don’t see me. Got it?”

I looked around at the other people in the room. I definitely saw her. And no one else seemed concerned.

“I’m not here.” She raised an aggressively penciled-on brow at me. Marigold was part of the Maple Street Mafia and a longtime friend of Bitsy’s. And she was not someone I expected to be part of this team.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “Did not see you here.”

She gave me a proud smile, as if I was a dog who’d just mastered a new trick, and lowered herself into a large ergonomic desk chair.

“Harper,” Sabrina said. “Why don’t you start?”

Harper was sixteen or seventeen if my memory was correct, but she carried herself with the world-weary confidence of someone twice her age. She was on the tall side, and with her dyed black hair, her thick bangs, and glasses, she bore no physical resemblance to teenage Sabrina I’d once known. But her posture and attitude were spot on.

She nodded and pulled up a slide on the projector.

“We’ve identified seven possible avenues for future revenue generation,” Sabrina said, gesturing to Harper. “We have short term, medium term and long term. Today we need to talk to you about our short-term plans.”

“Changes and initiatives that need to start today to get more revenue flowing into the town,” Nina explained.

“We’ve got tourism conversion via maple cams, live content, and strategic promotion,” Harper said. “And direct-to-consumer maple subscriptions.”

She clicked to the next slide, and I had to blink several times to interpret all the numbers detailing projections and costs.

“And on-site premium farm experiences,” she added. “Small groups, high margins.”

There went the blinking again. All the information was hard to keep up with.

“Due to the loss of the festival, we’ve got to lower our volume event dependence and increase per-visitor revenue long term,” Sabrina explained.

“Maplewood depends on seasonal spikes and town-sponsored festivals,” Harper told me, sounding far older than she was. “A more consistent online presence and strategic social content can drive both visitors and product sales year-round.”

I looked from one woman to another. A high school student, a nail tech, a librarian, and a ninety-year-old busybody. And whoever the woman on the phone was.

“She sounds like you,” I said to Sabrina, both impressed and a bit terrified of Harper.

“She’s better.” She nodded at the teenager, gesturing for her to keep talking.

“As you can see, I’ve created a four-prong social content strategy. Step one is getting the farmers onboard and purchasing the necessary technology to execute.”

She slid a piece of paper across the table to me.

“That’s a preliminary list of what we need to get the maple cams operational. We want them up in the next week in case of an early sap run.”

Confusion swirled through me. “Maple cams?”

“Cameras. To capture the sap running. To show the process, the weather, the collection,” she explained. “We take the usual farm excitement and anticipation, and we blow it up globally, bringing a massive audience along for the ride.”

I nodded along, even if I couldn’t imagine how a camera live streaming a maple tree would attract a global audience.

“We need several types of cameras. We need lighting, mics, a streaming setup—which should include at least one dedicated maple cam server—live stream software, and mobile hotspot rigs for farms with unreliable Wi-Fi.”

“I can build the backend next week,” the voice on the phone chimed in. “I just need admin access and a few hours of quiet.”

“I’ll send over the British nanny the secretary of state recommended,” Sabrina said. “Give you some time to yourself.”

“Um, what’s a lavalier?” I asked as I scanned the endless list of expensive equipment.