Chapter Three
Rue
Somehow, we got to the grand opening.
I’d worked so hard for this moment, for my whole life, it seemed, but the reality stole my breath.
Weeks of cleaning, stripping wallpaper, sanding, and refinishing the wide oak boards of the floor.
I thought at first, I could do it myself, but a few days in, my omega father called to ask if I had anything for a young cousin to do.
And so, Alfred arrived, and while I hadn’t wanted to take a salary, he made himself so useful so fast, I owed my dads a big thank-you.
“What do we have left, boss?” he asked, coming in from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. “The shop looks great!” He had a streak of cream-colored paint on one cheek, the results of the final trim work.
“It does.” I turned in a circle, taking in the reclaimed space.
It was immaculate. And, save for shelves and racks and a long counter, empty.
“Now comes the fun part.” I hoped that once we got going, we’d have lots of people dropping things off that they no longer wanted but that still had lots of good use, but I had a line on a shop closing down in the city who had offered me a great deal if I took everything they had left.
“Now, you take the new box truck and get our stock.”
“I guess they have a lot of good stuff, huh?” Alfred grabbed the keys off the hook behind the counter.
“They did last time I was there, but it’s probably kind of picked over now.
Here’s the check for what we agreed on, and I’ll be here when you get back.
” As I watched Alfred turn onto Main Street, I hoped he’d find enough left to be worth the price.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to make the deal.
It was such a small amount of money, I hadn’t felt like I could argue though.
Now, as I prepared to open the doors on the day of our grand opening, I looked around at the store a bit overwhelmed.
Every rack was filled, the shelves piled high, and the summery window display made me smile every time I looked at it.
Turned out, the retiring shop owner in the city hadn’t put a whole lot of effort into liquidation once he and I made our deal.
When Alfred returned with the box truck piled to the roof, we’d begun the exhilarating job of sorting and pricing.
What were we likely to be able to sell? What was too worn and had to be discarded?
In addition to the contents of the truck, we’d had donations.
I hadn’t made a move to let people know we were open to them—but I hadn’t had to.
Maybe it was because we were giving a percentage of profits to local charities or because they wanted to help make things available to those who could use it.
Or maybe we offered an opportunity to get rid of items they wanted out of their home.
But whatever their reason, the clothes and housewares, etc.
we received from the denizens of Oliver Creek were head above what we had bought.
Name-brand clothing. Trendy sneakers. Beautiful glassware…
Even now, the back room held almost as much as the sales floor, but most of what was in the front came to us from the kind local citizens.
Alfred was outside attaching the rainbow archway over the door, while I set up the station for iced water and tea, along with cookies, on one end of the long counter.
I wasn’t sure what type of business had occupied the space before—the Realtor had been vague, and nobody in town seemed to remember, but whoever it was had built the counter out of dark, gorgeous wood along an entire wall, and we were still figuring out how to make the best use of it.
He came inside, accompanied by a buzz of sound.
I peeked through the gleaming front window. “A few people out there?” I could see three or four.
“A few?” Alfred’s smile lit up his entire face. “Why don’t you go outside and see our little group of eager customers.”
“All right.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s just about time anyway. I hope we have some measure of success.”
“Me too.” He stepped behind the counter, next to the credit card device—I could never remember what they were called, but Alfred had been adamant we needed one despite the fact I figured we’d be mostly cash from small sales. “Good luck, boss.”
“Good luck to us both.” I straightened my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair. “We’re going to need it.”
I stepped outside the door and turned to greet the older gentleman who stood immediately to my left. “Good morning.” I reached to shake his hand. “Welcome to…”
Alfred’s laughter carried from inside, and I took in the line down the block and round the corner of Main Street. “Might be more than a few,” he called.
We had to police the number of people who came in at one time to keep from violating the fire code. And since the chief of the volunteer fire department was one of the customers, we’d have been caught if we cheated.
Everyone was so kind. I’d thought we’d serve the less financially well off of our neighbors, but I recognized business owners as well, restauranteurs, farmers, the vintners.
All sorts of people had shown up for the event, and my instant panic that there wouldn’t be enough cookies and tea was quelled when the long counter filled with trays of sandwiches from PB&J, pitchers of smoothies and paper cups, all sorts of baked goods from the bakery and the kitchens of kind locals…
and I could only hope nobody tried to claim we were selling wine because we had a whole row of bottles from the tasting room of our local winery. Even barbecue from the food truck.
Our grand opening was a party, a true welcome to the community, and in addition to laughter and feasting, we sold so much, we went from “OMG what will we do with it all” to spending the night restocking from the back and figuring out where we would find more stock.
The charity we supported would be very happy with their share.
Of course, every day wouldn’t be like this, but from what our customers said as they checked out, we’d filled the need I’d seen, and everyone, rich and poor alike, planned to visit again soon.
Trash Panda was an instant success.