Chapter 24 Clara
S MALL B USINESS S ATURDAY IS THE kind of event that I should’ve trained for the way people train for marathons.
There’s little evidence of this week’s storm as I walk up Main Street.
Every twinkling light is exactly where it should be, the sidewalks are clear of snow, and there’s zero proof that any branches even snapped from the trees.
There’s a bitter wind whipping through but the energy is high, with every store open and ready.
Fraser Falls looks perfect for the visitors it’s expecting to travel here today.
Arthur was in good spirits when I stopped by his welcome stand to pick up my stamp book. When I bought a Fraser Falls SBS T-shirt he gave me my first stamp. A little red heart with SBS in the center. He told me the town hall parking lot was already full of visitors.
My first stop is Flo’s Fancies to place a delivery order for my mom.
I told her about Flo’s macarons the first week I was here, and I’ve been patiently waiting for Flo’s one delivery day of the year to be able to ship two dozen.
Flo doesn’t mention that the booklets look amazing after I went to a special print shop to have them done professionally.
Which obviously makes me all the more desperate for some kind of praise.
She takes the book from my outstretched hand and stamps it, handing it back. I squint at the drying brown ink. Why does the Flo’s Fancies stamp look like a sausage?
Flo sighs. “Jack tells me it’s a chocolate éclair.”
“Of course, it looks exactly like one.”
Neither her eyebrows nor forehead moves but I can still tell she’s scowling at me. “Lying isn’t an attractive trait, Clara. It looks like a sausage. Now, on you go, you’re holding up my line.”
She’s right, I am, and it feels damn good.
Normally in the morning when I go to Bliss to grab a coffee, or if she’s in the bakery, I’ll find a reason to lock her into an overly polite conversation with me for at least a few minutes.
Today there’s a line of people behind me, stamp books in hand, waiting.
“Have a great day, Ms. Flo,” I say before heading next door to Bliss.
Small Business Saturday is always the day after Black Friday.
It was started with the intention to encourage people to shop locally when they’re being bombarded with offers and discounts from big retailers.
I’ll never forget the one year a marketing blast was scheduled on the wrong day and Davenport got dragged to hell online for trying to steal focus.
I intend to do all of my Christmas shopping in town today because if I get all my stamps, I’ll get a free drink of my choosing at the Hungry Fox and a crown.
Two things I’ve just learned are very important to me. The fact that I’m competitive is something I knew, but I didn’t realize it applied to stamp books.
Maybe I should take up tennis.
It’s nice, albeit a little strange, seeing so many people on the pavement when I leave Bliss, coffee tray in hand. I have to look both ways before crossing the street, something usually not required due to the distinct lack of cars.
Harry’s is full of people and I can picture Jack being both happy and pissed about it. He wants Fraser Falls to thrive as much as anyone, but he also strongly dislikes the customer service side of being a business owner.
Joe, Jack’s weekend guy and nutcracker stealer, is behind the register as I walk through the door. He gets a little whiter. I always thought I’d be one of those cool grown-ups but apparently not. I’m a narc. Nancy, Jack’s weekday worker, is talking to a customer over by the candleholders.
“I bought you and Nancy a coffee,” I say as cool adult–y as possible, lifting two cups from the tray and putting them on the counter in front of him.
He looks between me and the drink. “Uh, thanks. But my mom doesn’t let me drink coffee. She says it makes me hyperactive and a pain in her ass.”
“Got it, sorry. Is Jack around?” He gestures toward the workshop door with his head. “He hiding from customers?”
“Yeah. He always does when it’s busy.”
I reposition my hand on the tray to keep the drinks balanced and knock on the workshop door. I can’t hear any machines running. I push it open and Jack’s sitting with his feet crossed on a table, throwing a tennis ball into the air.
“Do you ever work?” I ask playfully, closing the door behind me.
I hand him his coffee and resist the urge to bend down and kiss him. “I’m resting because I’ve done so much work already. It’s terrifying how productive I’ve been.”
“I’m so proud of you. Suspicious, but proud.”
“You here to get your stamp?” he asks, dropping his feet to the floor.
I lean against the table in front of him, my feet filling the gap between his.
He leans forward, hands angled outward like he’s going to grip the back of my thighs.
He doesn’t; he stops suddenly, runs his hands through his hair, and leans back.
Nice to know it isn’t just me.
“No, I’m saving you until last. Just wanted to bring you coffee.” I dig my stamp book out of my pocket and point to my Flo’s Fancies stamp. “Can you explain this sausage to me?”
Jack nearly chokes on his coffee. “Dove did it. I think she did it on purpose to wind Flo up.”
It’s enough explanation for me. I pluck my own coffee from the tray and put my book back in my pocket. “I’m going back to my quest. Stop avoiding your customers.”
Busted. He hides his smirk behind his hand. “I’ll stop avoiding them when you come back later.”
Joe looks confused by the smile I’m fighting as I walk through the store toward the exit onto Main Street. When I’m outside I study the map for businesses I don’t usually frequent in town. As the person who designed the stamp book, I really should’ve come prepared with a route.
Wilde & Winslet is my next target, and it’s the first time I’m seeing Mel and Winnie in person after my mom called them on Wednesday. After I sent through the link to their portfolio she accidentally sent me back an emoji with sunglasses and then a thumbs-up.
Winnie is the first to spot me and squeezes me in the tightest hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Someone, who I assume, and hope, is Melissa, joins and hugs me from behind.
“Don’t thank me too much, you haven’t worked with my mom yet.
Her social status is her pride and joy. Losing their event florist weeks out pushed her to the closest thing to stressed I’ve seen in twenty years.
I didn’t even know her face could still be that expressive. ”
“Your mom is great!” Winnie says, letting me go. Melissa doesn’t let go straightaway, which is good because the shock of what Winnie just said nearly makes me fall on the floor.
I love my mom, but I accept her for who she is and find humor in her quirks where some other people might find despair.
She can be notoriously hard to please, especially when it comes to things through which she’ll be perceived by others.
It’s always been a funny contrast to have a mother who offers her unconditional support and belief regardless of what it might relate to but is prepared to disown you over wearing an ugly skirt in front of her friends.
“She sent over the most detailed outline I’ve ever seen yesterday. We printed it out. It’s basically a short story. She honestly couldn’t have made it easier for us, especially on such limited notice,” Winnie says.
“We were honest about struggling to get certain things from our suppliers with only a couple of weeks to go and she emailed straight back with suitable substitutes. Your mom rocks, Clara,” Mel says, slowly detaching herself from me.
“I think I’m having an aneurysm. I once heard a caterer call her the Wicked Witch of the West Village. Anyway, I’m so happy it worked out for you guys! I’m going to celebrate your win by buying everyone I know a candle.”
Winnie laughs. “Got your stamp book?”
The girls make all their own candles, and my temporary home at Maggie’s already has a couple laying around.
Thankfully, Honor loves candles, which makes her the easiest person to buy for.
I choose a few from the brand-new Christmas line just out today, and a few of the bouquet collection.
The stamp is a simple flower with W & W underneath and pink ink.
We, meaning Dove and I, made the executive decision to leave the hairdressers out of the stamp book, so I walked straight past their store, as well as the ice cream parlor, on my way to Wilde & Winslet.
The Frozen Spoon is focusing on hot chocolate today and my plan is to hit them on the way back to Jack’s.
The Green Light bookstore is next in my race to be the first person with a complete book. “Afternoon, Clara,” Miss Celia says when I walk through the door.
“Hi, Miss Celia. How are you today?” There are visitors in earmuffs and matching black puffer jackets browsing the sci-fi section. She’s perched on a step stool near them, but not too close.
“Can’t complain. I’ve been busy preparing for our event.” I love the way she calls it “our event” when all I did was connect her with the right people. It makes me feel part of something. Part of here, a desire that seems to increase every passing day. “Are you here to shop or chat?”
“I’m doing my Christmas shopping. Do you have any book recommendations for five-year-olds? And any books about dinosaurs.”
Miss Celia stands up straight, throws her braid to her back, and storms off like a woman on a mission. I follow behind her like a puppy. “Is the dinosaur book also for the five-year-old?”
“He has the maturity of a five-year-old, but no, he’s almost thirty.”
It’s incredible how Miss Celia is able to walk me through nearly every book on the shelves. She explained she only buys stock that she’d 100 percent recommend to her customers, and that makes it easy to recall.
After buying a stack of books for Paloma, two dinosaur books for Max, and a business mindset book for my dad, I get my next stamp. A green book.