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I laugh and lift a brow. “Just twenty?”
“Okay, seventy-five,” she corrects, brushing perfectly curled hair from her face.
Mom had always dreamed of owning a boutique and went for it my senior year of high school, which sparked my idea to get a business degree. We get a lot of local sales from our storefront since we’re located downtown. Tourists driving through will stop in for souvenirs, but after I got serious about posting on social media and making videos, over half of our sales are from online customers worldwide.
“I can’t let these shirts get wrinkled.” She stuffs them on an already loaded rack, and I’m afraid it may break too because it’s bowing in the middle.
“Okay, I’m texting Dad right now,” I say, taking control of the situation before we have a bigger mess on our hands.
The front door chimes, and Mom meets my eyes. I take the hint and go greet them. I didn’t plan to work today. I was just stopping by to stock the soap inventory and rearrange the display.
“Harper, dear. How’re ya doin’?” Mrs. Jefferson asks.
“Real good. Just wanted to bring a few items in.”
She grins wide. “I was hopin’ you would. I just finished my lavender bar and heard through the grapevine that you had some new scents.”
I laugh and lift a brow. “Oh really? Well, I’m glad I didn’t change my plans then and stopped in today. But yes, I do. In neon colors too!”
Two other women enter and go straight to my display. I swear they’re either hoarding products or using them in every room of their house. They pick up so many soaps and lotions, they can’t hold them all. I give each person a small handbasket, and they load them full.
“Harper, you’ve outdone yourself,” Mrs. Brooks beams. “The lemongrass lotion is to die for. I’ve been putting it on my husband’s heels every night, and did you know they’re as smooth as a baby’s butt now?”
I hold back a snort. “That’s amazing.”
“A baby’s butt?” Mrs. Jefferson shrieks, adding three more lotions to her basket. “Jack has a bunion on his toe. Wonder if this will fix him right up?”
“It’s a miracle lotion, that’s for sure,” Mrs. Brooks confirms.
Mom greets everyone, and soon, a small line has formed in front of the shop because so many people are inside. “Did you announce online that you were bringin’ new inventory in today or somethin’?” Mom whispers.
“Swear, I didn’t. The only person I said anything to was…” I pause briefly. “Ethan.”
“Bet he told Rose.” She knowingly smirks. Ethan’s grandmother, Rose, loves to support local businesses and charities. The woman has been raising thousands for the food bank by running an annual bachelor auction. She has connections no one else in town has—her own little town gossip mill. If he mentions it in passing to her, Ethan knows she’ll spread it around faster than any post on social media could. It's the best free local advertisement I could ask for.
Soon, all the summer soaps and every bottle of lotion are gone.
“Do you have more comin’?” Mrs. Darla asks me after everyone’s paid and the shelves are bare.
“I should have some by the end of the week,” I confirm, realizing it’s only Monday, and I’ll be working overtime to make more.
She lowers her voice. “Do you know what day and time? I don’t want to miss out again.”
“Friday. Ten a.m.”
She smiles wide. “My credit card’s ready.”
Once the store is empty, Mom laughs. “We just sold over two thousand dollars worth of soaps, lotions, and T-shirts.”
We exchange a high five.
“That’s awesome!” I beam, kinda shocked. I recently upped my prices due to the high demand but also knowing my worth. However, it hasn’t deterred anyone from purchasing them.
“Did you at least save some of the summer scents for your online orders?” Mom asks, tidying up the pile of shirts that she’ll probably fold another ten times before the day is over.
“I did. I’m launching the rest tonight. People are already messaging about getting early access. I’m gonna have to figure out how to increase my productivity. The cure time of three to four weeks is killin’ me. I need more hands on deck so my inventory is always stocked.”
“You’ll sell it with no problem. You’d still make a profit after paying your employees,” she says. “Might just need a bigger space to store it all.”
“Time to get a she-shed in the backyard,” I tease, though that’d help me out so damn much. I live in a small cabin behind my parents’ house and make all of my products there. It takes a lot of space to store everything, but I could make it work for now if I had more shelves and bought more supplies. Since I live alone, I’m the only person who has to deal with the racks being everywhere. Hell, I already do. But at this rate, I need double the inventory to meet my demand.
