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I felt stagnant. Even the worries about the store’s diminishing profit didn’t feel like a challenge to me. It was more like an insurmountable mountain. When Remi or Brooke talked about their businesses, they were passionate about what they sold. It was their dream to be a business owner.
I had no idea what I wanted besides a home and people around me who loved me. Though I had an inkling there was something else out there for me, I just wasn’t sure what.
I carefully measured the different spices, sifting them into bags and labeling them to put on the shelves. Even this part of the job had diminished lately since the products weren’t moving as quickly.
A few customers straggled in, mainly tourists who’d been walking the streets, admiring the architecture of the houses. I explained the history of the store, the spices, and teas, but no one was interested in purchasing anything. They smiled politely, walked around the store briefly, and left.
I checked in on Corey a few times, and each time, he seemed to be working diligently. Ryan mentioned that Corey had worked with one of his mother’s boyfriends fixing up his house. He assured me Corey knew what he was doing. First, he washed the walls, spackled the holes, and finally, taped the floorboards and the ceiling. The last time I’d popped in, he’d begun painting one of the larger walls.
I was impressed he’d kept with it. I offered him snacks and a drink, but he just shook his head.
By the time Ryan was due to show up, I was ready to close the shop and head home. The stress of what to do about the store weighed on me. The smart thing to do would be to close this location and move to Main Street, but Nana owned this building. She’d have to sell and then rent a space on Main. Those came up infrequently, and I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about moving. Especially when it had always been in this spot.
The bell over the door tinkled a few minutes before closing time. The store was empty of customers, but Ryan stood there, looking large and out of place. It struck me then, he’d never been inside the store.
“It smells amazing in here.”
I flushed with pleasure at his compliment, even though I wasn’t responsible for the scents.
He moved closer to the spice side, turning the labels so he could read them, picking up one of the larger jars to open and sniff them. “You have so many options.”
I stood next to him. “My grandfather came up with the spices.”
Ryan glanced at me. “Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Pleasure shot through me at his admiration, even though it wasn’t for me. “Me either. He died before I was born, so he couldn’t teach me, and Nana said she was hopeless when he showed her.”
He set the jar down, taking in the store: the wooden shelves and jars of spices on one side and the teas and teakettles on the other. “It’s a sweet shop.”
“Thank you, although I can’t really take credit for it. It’s all my grandparents.”
His gaze traveled the room before resting lightly on me. “You’ve been running it for a while?”
“I started working here when I was in high school, and I stayed.” I loved working side-by-side with Nana. Her passion for the business was infectious, but it was different by myself.
“It’s cute. Homey. I can see why people like it.”
I hummed in agreement.
He continued to the other side, picking up a tea kettle, examining it, and then placing it back down.
“We don’t get as much foot traffic anymore. The loyal customers from back when my grandparents ran the store are dwindling, either dying or unable to travel to get here. I’m not able to bring people in. I can’t talk about how I came up with a particular flavor of tea or combination of spices because I wasn’t the one to create them.”
Customers’ excitement dissipated when they realized the person who came up with the cool new flavor wasn’t here and never would be.
He looked out the store window. “You’re pretty far away from Main Street, too.”
“Yeah, we put a sign on the alley near Max’s, and that helps.” But it didn’t seem to attract serious buyers. Maybe tourists just weren’t into tea leaves and local spices anymore.
Ryan wandered back over to the spices, picking up one of the labeled bottles, and tipped it toward me. “What’s this one?”
I moved closer to read it, noticing Ryan’s sandalwood scent despite the strong smell of spices surrounding us. I wanted to sink into that smell and lean against his hard body. I mentally shook my head. “It’s Pirate’s Booty. My grandfather said it was the most popular spice. A new take on salt and pepper.”
Ryan turned the bottle, carefully reading the bottle. “I’ll take both.”
I shook my head and took a step back. “You don’t have to do that—”
He picked up the second bottle. “I want to try them.”
