Chapter 8 #2
While she loved the dusty used bookshop in Tenison, she’d always wished for something nicer.
Newer. For a while, when she was a kid, there had been a larger retail bookstore twenty minutes away.
She used to beg and plead for her mother to take her there once a week.
Eventually, that store shut down. After that, the nearest one was forty minutes away, too far for her mother, and their trips were cut down to once a month.
The used bookshop had been her refuge growing up. Tucked between those shelves was where she discovered The Raven King series, along with page after yellow-page of romance novels. But she wanted it to be more than that now. Needed it to be more.
Now that it was in her care, it was her responsibility to get it there. To make it profitable or at least turn it into someplace where other little girls could go.
But if she couldn’t even sell fantasy books at a Renaissance Faire, then what was she doing?
Her brain buzzed with the question.
“Lilian!”
She looked up at the sound of her name. Her real name.
Hawk was the one who called out to her. His clipboard was tucked under one bulging bicep. He’d been chatting with one of the food vendors, who looked more than a little relieved when his attention diverted to her.
Hawk pointed at something on the board and then dismissed the poor boy back to his deep-frying duties and focused solely on Lilian. “Hey,” he repeated, “I saw the show went well.”
“You saw?” she asked, watching the vendor scurry away and wishing she could do the same.
The stoic set of his face didn’t change. “Yeah, I walked by while making my rounds.”
Of course. The Crown Theater was near the front gate; of course Hawk would be prowling around there more than anywhere else. It had the highest concentration of shops and food stalls.
“What did you think?”
He crossed his arms, his brow knitting in a way she was beginning to recognize as his thinking face. “There’s still room for improvement, obviously. But for something thrown together in a week, it wasn’t terrible.”
“You majored in business, right?”
Hawk’s brows dipped at the question. “Yeah, how did you know that?”
“Alex,” Lilian said with a wave of her hand. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Okay,” he drawled, looking unsure.
“How do you make sure your business is a success?” she asked. “I know I have a great idea. I know people can make bookstores work. But I can’t seem to figure out the right formula to get people to come to my shop.”
Hawk’s silence told her that she might have shared a little too much. Immediately she regretted her decision. He was a jerk. One who only really cared about the contracts, rules, and making money. There was no way he would waste time on her and her stupid little shop.
“A good idea is only one part of a successful business,” he said. “You also have to know the market, know the margins, know the customer, and be very, very lucky.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. “Well, I think I know the customer and the market. I’ve been invested in both for years.”
He nodded. “Sure, as a consumer. But do you know the numbers of book sales? Do you know what is hot and what isn’t?”
She winced. “Not specifically. But I’m going to bet used books aren’t at the top of that list.”
His face didn't change. “Yeah, I would have to agree with you on that. Do you know the profit margins for used bookstores?”
She shook her head. Embarrassingly, she’d been so focused on their inventory and getting the bookshelves organized, she’d never delved too deep into what her prices should be set at.
“Okay,” Hawks said slowly, “are you making a profit?”
Her throat felt hot. “Honestly? I have no idea. My mom owned the place for almost fifteen years. She’s been running it sort of like a co-op. Profit was never her goal.”
Though it should have been, Lilian realized.
She’d had to take out loans for school, and now, paying for her mother’s treatment was going to wipe out their bank accounts.
It struck her then, hard and fast, that her mother had been living out a fantasy with the bookstore.
A place where she would live surrounded by the things she loved most. Regardless of whether she was setting her family up for success.
Shit. Embarrassment scorched her from the inside out. Now, Hawk knew what a mess she and her business were. If he didn’t have ill will toward them before, he certainly would now.
“You know what?” She stepped back, unable to meet his eyes. “Forget I brought this up. I’m going to go.”
“No, wait.” His hand grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. “Lilian, what is it you wanted to ask me?”
She swallowed hard. The ground beneath her slippered feet suddenly looked very interesting. Her lack of response did nothing for Hawk, who waited patiently, his grip unrelenting.
Fine. She’d come this far. Why not ask the big question? “I think I need help,” she said.
Ten seconds ticked by, but they felt like an eternity. Finally, she dared to glance up. The knot in his brow screamed confusion, so she whispered, “With my business.”
“Are you in danger of going bankrupt?”
“Jesus, no.” She laughed. “At least I don’t think so.”
He frowned at that. “You don’t think so?”
She knew that tone. It screamed wrong answer even though Hawk had never raised his voice. “I honestly don’t know,” she said. “I realized recently I need to think more like a businesswoman and less like someone with the hobby of collecting books. And to do that, I think I might need your help.”
Blessedly, he let go of her wrist, but her skin still tingled from where he’d touched it. Lilian pulled her arm back and cradled it, still feeling cautious about the situation.
“What do you need my help with?” Hawk asked.
“Profit margins, obviously,” she said. “But after that… I guess I don’t know. I don’t even know where to begin. I want this thing to be a success.”
“Which thing are we talking about? Your bookstore here or the one in real life?”
Real life? The Bodice and Brawn was real life to her. But so was the store in Tenison. Both businesses were tied together and held a place in her heart. She looked up and met his eyes. “Both.”
“All right.” He hummed, scratching under his neck. She could see the dark whiskers of a beard shadowing the skin. “I can’t promise I’ll fix anything. But I can help answer some questions.”
“Really?” She stared at him, unsure if she had heard right.
“Really.”
“Oh, wow, thank you!” Relief surged through her, along with the overwhelming urge to hug him. She stopped herself before she lost her mind completely. Hawk was being nice; she didn’t want him to regret this decision. She settled for a flood of gratitude. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
His throat bobbed on a swallow, as if he was already reconsidering. But he shrugged the look off quickly and started writing something down on his clipboard. “It’s fine. Here, this is my number. Text me, and we’ll work out the details. Do you want to meet up this week?”
“Yes, please! The sooner the better. Here, let me give you my number as well.”
“Huh.” A smile pulled at his lips as he handed her a piece of paper torn from his clipboard.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just seem very serious about this.”
“Mr. Carlisle,” she said, staring him down, “you will find there are few things I take seriously in life, but books and bookstores are one of them.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.” He turned to walk away, but before he did, he threw back at her, “It means I’m not wasting my time.”