37. Dinner at Jo’s
THIRTY-SEVEN
Dinner at Jo’s
TARA
Tara
Tara and Steve sat down in one of the booths by the windows. On the opposite side of the large, rectangular-shaped bar, which divided the space into two large sections, were more booths along with a couple of pool tables and some dart boards. The sound of cheers emanating from near the dart boards drew their attention just after they ordered their dinner. It was a lot louder than usual since a baseball playoff game had just started.
Their server delivered their food and scurried away to the other tables in their section. Much to Tara’s surprise, Steve started asking about her family’s bookstore as soon as their server delivered their dinners to the table.
“So how is it you ended up here with so much time to help your parents’ shop?” Steve took a quick pull from his beer, not yet digging into his bacon cheeseburger.
Tara patted her napkin against her lips and took another sip from her own glass of draft beer. “Dad had his accident and my brothers and sister are in school or at sea, so I came to help.”
“Do they get back very often?”
“Not really. Tristan and Tiffany will both be back for the holidays.” She smiled. “Just not always the same holiday.”
“Yeah. That’s tough. But…” Steve breathed out a quick laugh. “I guess I won’t be the only one rooting for the Midshipmen on game day.”
Tara laughed. “No, you won’t. We’re a Navy family through and through.”
“So what’s with all the T names?”
“My parents had a good thing going. My youngest brother is Theo.” She laughed. “We all have an X in our middle names, too.”
“What’s yours?”
“Roxanne,” Tara said. “And do not start singing that song.”
“The Police have good music.”
“Yes, they do,” she sighed. “Anyway, Tristan should be back in time for Thanksgiving, where we’ll recruit him and Theo to help with the shop. Mom and Dad usually count on us to pitch in for Black Friday and Small Business Saturday. Emily, Tristan’s wife, sometimes helps, but she usually takes advantage of the time to get some writing in.”
“She’s a writer?”
“Yes, she writes romance novels. We have a few in the shop if you’d like to read them. They’re pretty good. Steamy, too, along the lines of Maisey Yates or Melissa Foster.”
He held up his hands. “I’ll take your word for that, thanks.”
Tara gave him a sideways glance. “Don’t knock a good small-town romance until you try it. Sometimes, a happy ending is just what you need.”
They laughed as the server came to check on them. Assuring her they were fine, Tara continued. “Anyway, back in Chicago, I work with struggling businesses, usually mom-and-pop shops that are having a rough time making ends meet. The organization I work for was a small business itself, but now acts as a consulting company to offer solutions to shops that are on their last legs or on the verge of shutting down.”
He seemed genuinely interested. “What do you do?”
“In a nutshell, we save them.”
“How do you do that?”
“We review the finances and business practices, then come back and offer suggestions on how to improve things well enough for them to keep their doors open and ultimately, prosper.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if it were obvious. “But sometimes, the recommendations we make are painful, such as simplifying a menu for a restaurant that offers fifty to sixty items but really only sells ten to twenty. Or, when we have to recommend fewer employees to the store owners who want to hire every friend they have but don’t have the revenue to support it. Other things aren’t as transparent, such as organizing their books a different way or teaching them new software that can streamline their purchasing and inventory management.”
She laughed. “I like when they don’t do any marketing at all. When we teach them about developing useful websites and other good places to advertise, they’re like kids in a candy store.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “I just love it when we can help a business turn itself around after thinking they had no alternative but to close.”
Tara’s enthusiasm shone in her eyes. “These shops we help. They aren’t just a consulting firm or a hobby store or a hardware store.” She held out her hands in emphasis, “or...” she lifted her eyes to meet Steve’s, “or even a bookstore.”
Steve’s face lit up with excitement as she spoke.
“They’re neighborhood institutions. They’re entire families of people who,” she shook her head, “after multiple generations, have their entire livelihoods wrapped up in whether enough people walk inside on any given week. These people have poured their heart and soul and often their life savings into this brand that... that says everything about them.”
“Like your parents.”
“Exactly.” She looked ready to take on the world as she spoke. “Speaking of which, my great-grandfather opened Between the Lines bookstore back in 1972. After a few years, he had enough money to buy the whole Hyler building.”
Steve knitted his brow. “Is that the building the bookstore is in?”
“Yes, if you stand on the sidewalk and look straight up, you’ll see it set in stone. Hyler. 1906. Anyway, it used to be a restaurant and hotel but had been vacant for a lot of years. My great-grandfather cleared it out and started renting out some space.”
Steve nodded as she spoke.
“That’s why your apartment has a 50/50 split between the bedrooms and the living space. It used to be four hotel rooms. I’m hoping to talk my parents into renting more space out, so it’s split between commercial and residential.”
She stopped talking as if she’d said too much. “I’m sorry.” She leaned back against the booth cushion.
“About what?”
“I’m sure you’re not interested in hearing all about my grandiose plans for Mom and Dad’s building.” She splayed her fingers wide while stretching out the words, grandiose plans .
“Not true. I am interested.” Steve surprised himself when he realized he truly meant it. “I want to know more about you.” He smiled.
“Are you going to start your own business someday?”
“Someday, I’ll work my way back home and take over the shop when Mom and Dad decide to retire.” She smiled and dipped a fry in ketchup. “It’s a long way off, but it’ll always be here. And I love the idea of keeping it in the family. It’s kind of a romantic notion, I suppose.”
Steve tilted his head in understanding but stayed silent as she continued.
“Keeping it in the family. Keeping a small town alive.” Tara spread her arms. “This town has been around for nearly a hundred and fifty years. It’s a rock. It’s safe. It updates itself, sure; but it also stays the same. I love it. For my family, the bookstore is our rock. It’s comforting.” Tara shrugged and let out a small laugh. “I’m having an It’s a Wonderful Life moment, aren’t I?”
“Well, Jimmy Stewart did play George Bailey.” Steve chuckled. “Any relation?”
Tara seemed pleasantly surprised that he knew both the movie and the name of the main character, who ended up staying in his hometown because of how much he loved it and how much the people there loved him and his family.
The baseball sounds ended with the end of the game and a slow song began to play from the speakers overhead. Tara watched as an older gentleman led his smiling wife out onto the open floor area and started dancing.
Steve saw them, too. “That’s a good idea.”
Curling up a lip in a lopsided smile, he stood up and held out his hand. “Care to dance, Tara Bailey?”
Blinking off the shock of the question, she slipped her small fingers into his larger hand and lifted her eyes. “I’d love to.”
His eyes lit up as she stood to follow him onto the floor, holding hands the length of the few tables they had to pass to get there. He turned and placed his hand on the small of her back to pull her closer. Her hand hesitated as it found his shoulder, but he smiled as she relaxed into him and they started moving to the music.
“I’m a horrible dancer,” Tara confessed.
“Just follow my lead.” His hand felt more confident to her than her own, but she thought his shook for a moment. He couldn’t be nervous around her? Could he? From what little she knew about him, he didn’t seem the nervous type.
“Though I don’t know what I’m doing either,” he confessed. “I usually fake it and hope nobody notices. I can only sway back and forth.” His cheek nearly met hers as he shared what sounded like a secret.
She sighed as he pulled her closer. When the music ended, they both still held each other.
His deep blue eyes held hers for a moment before they dropped to her parted lips, making her feel butterflies. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him. His musky cologne filled her senses, driving her desire higher. He tilted his head and leaned in to kiss her when a high-pitched voice called out.
“STEVE!”