7. Makeover Scene
7
Makeover Scene
Luke leaves me on read and I’m not about to be the one to text him first. Besides, I have Corner Books to think about. But shaking our conversation about my fake glasses from my head proves more difficult than I imagined. It’s next to impossible as I start planning my outfit for my presentation to Uncle Andy.
I pull out a selection of short-sleeved button-ups in pastel colors. If there are any hesitations from Uncle Andy, pastels will help calm his worries. My summer plans and Corner Books’ future are riding on my ideas to improve the store’s image. And while Luke may see past first appearances, shoppers don’t. Corner Books needs not so much a makeover, but a full facelift.
As I refine my ideas to make Corner Books more like Campus Books, I can see how far they are apart. The gap between them may as well be an ocean wide. Corner Books looks nothing like Little Elm College’s bookstore. It’s like the difference between me and Luke. But Luke didn’t see a problem with how I looked.
What if there’s not a problem with how Corner Books looks either?
Uncle Andy’s store is unique. It has a certain character and charm. Instead of overhauling the store, we need customers to take a second, deeper look to notice the qualities that make Corner Books the cool, less snobby destination for Little Elm’s readers. As I settle on a baby-chick-yellow shirt, I throw out my initial notes. I stay up late rewriting. If this works, I have not only checked another box under summer job but maybe even found my dream job despite not being the best at it yet and my snarky co-worker.
The only issue left is drawing in customers. I pick up my phone. “Wanda, I’ve got questions about how you get your viewers. Is now a good time to come up?”
It’s late Monday afternoon before Uncle Andy and I connect. I decide to consider the extra time a gift to rehearse what I’m going to say between Gladys’s drilling me on the old cash register. By the time Uncle Andy calls me from the back, I’ve got the hang of straightforward sales but returns and exchanges are a work in progress with processing buybacks still beyond me.
“My office?” Uncle Andy asks.
I remember the folding lawn chairs and the tight squeeze. “How about we start outside?” I suggest and head toward the front door.
We’re no sooner out the door than the florist across the street, Mr. Fumagalli, pokes his head out of his offices. “When do you think they’ll start hanging the banners for the festival, Andy?”
“Any day now,” Uncle Andy replies.
“How’s your wife?” I ask.
Mr. Fumagalli beams. “She still puts every bloom I’ve ever touched to shame and jokes that she’s the only woman in town I never give flowers to.”
But it’s only a joke as Mr. Fumagalli has never needed Bobby Ashton. Every day, he chooses the most beautiful bloom from his shipment and brings it home to his wife. He doesn’t need a single pointer.
Mr. Fumagalli returns inside, and Uncle Andy and I stand on the sidewalk staring up. I shield my eyes and point. “Some of my suggestions are easy fixes. Superficial but they’ll make a big impact. Like the sign,” I say.
“I know. We should replace it. It’s old.”
“It’s retro.” I decided last night to keep our conversation focused on the positives of Corner Books. Looking at the positives of crappy situations is so on brand for me right now. “It needs a good wash and some new bulbs. If you’ve got a ladder, I’m sure we can do it ourselves.”
Uncle Andy frowns.
“Isn’t there a ladder?” I ask.
“We have one. But do you know how to do that? We should probably hire a professional.”
“It’s changing a light bulb. I’m sure I’m butch enough.” I flex my arm like Rosie the Riveter. “Cass and I have been doing small repairs around the duplex for years. You can learn to do anything with the right online tutorial.”
Uncle Andy bites his bottom lip. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Bobby. But you need to promise not to tell Cass.”
I try not to nod too enthusiastically. I love a secret.
Uncle Andy says, “I’m not a fan of heights.”
“I’ll climb the ladder,” I assure him. “I won’t look down if that helps.”
“I’ll imagine you falling instead of me.”
We hear someone cough from nearby and turn our heads to find Gladys listening in from the store’s entrance. “I’ll hold the ladder.”
I eye her skeptically. “Without trying to knock me off?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not worth the conviction.”
We go back into the store. I point out that all our tables are currently reserved for used textbooks. Both Gladys and Uncle Andy agree moving the tables to the front of the store and stocking them with new releases so customers see them first is a better sales strategy.
I hammer through more minor suggestions until the phone rings. Gladys answers and snipes at a customer who asks her to check if a book is in stock.
“That’s another thing,” I say as Gladys stomps down one of the aisles, the store’s phone in hand.
“I’m not replacing Gladys,” Uncle Andy replies. “She’s already warned me her attitude is not up for discussion.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t dream that big. The sales system. It’s outdated. And before you tell me that we can’t get a new one, it’s too expensive, hear me out.” I take a deep breath. “Corner Books has no online presence. Even if you don’t want to commit to a new system, we should have a basic website. People my age prefer online to phone calls.”
Uncle Andy nods. “I’ll think about it.”
While I don’t think Corner Books is going to close shop anytime soon, I can’t imagine there’s a huge profit margin waiting in reserve. I already knew coming in I’d need to let some larger items go. I shift focus to other smaller fixes like the old stool behind the register or safety rugs we could fix, replace, or clean.
As we wrap up our conversation, I say, “The shelves.”
Uncle Andy sighs. “I knew you’d go after my shelves.”
“They work,” I say with a smile. “I’ve got to admit, at first all I saw was mismatched, used junk. Then I looked again. You’ve got that nothing-matches-so-everything-matches style going on. We could even distress a few to give them a reclaimed look. Gladys would be a pro at beating them with metal chains.”
“You joke,” Gladys deadpans, appearing from the stacks.
“Let’s consider the story we want to tell,” I say, slowly turning as I point features of Corner Books out. “The exposed brick wall is awesome. So is the old tin ceiling, even with the missing pieces. We could tie it all together with something like a statement color. We could paint a couple of shelves or bring in chairs and throw cushions. We’ll go bright and bold.”
“Perhaps sour apple or chartreuse,” Gladys suggests.
Certainly not what I’d choose, but I’m surprised Gladys isn’t shooting me down, and even more because her color choices aren’t awful.
“If we glitz our image up a bit, we’d go from the place where students schlep downtown to buy affordable textbooks to a place where people want to shop. We could entice a broader range of readers into becoming regulars. You see how certain crowds turn up in big numbers for the fantasy, sci-fi, horror, and romance talks at the Big Summer Reading Festival. Campus Books isn’t catering to their preferred tastes outside the festival. Why can’t we? Why can’t we be their destination for a bookstore? We’ll even start holding exclusive readings and signings. That’s how we afford that new point-of-sale system. It’s the snowball effect.” Wanda gave me some more specific pointers to attracting an audience, but image is paramount.
“What if the snowball never gets going?” Uncle Andy asks.
“If we don’t increase sales, we stop at painting the shelves. If they do, baby steps forward. I know I’m prone to big plans, but the beauty of this one is we can pull the plug at any stage.”
Uncle Andy is quiet as he squints and turns slowly like I did in my living room to picture it as Cass’s studio. I wait for him to say something.
“Do we hate floor lamps?” he finally asks.
“We love floor lamps,” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you see a coat rack or umbrella stand, throw it in the back of your truck.”
Uncle Andy is silent for a moment again before he says, “I’ve always wanted this to be more of a place authors would want to visit.” He pauses. “I’m impressed with your ideas but even more with your restraint, Bobby. I have to be honest; I worried about your knack a little after we spoke.”
I let my hand drop from Uncle Andy’s shoulder.
He continues, “I was prepared for you to tell me everything you could see wrong with my store. Every crack in the wall and dog-eared page. Instead, you saw all the potential.”
Thinking of Luke, I say, “Corner Books has good content. All it needs is an updated cover.”