Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“See, you should put this shelf here, and let the customers flow through your shop. A little bit of planning goes pretty far when it comes to a store.”
Lemon is in here explaining things to Fig, about the placement of some shelves and the register.
“When someone comes in and is looking around, you want them to find something that they like. And that requires arranging everything well, setting the store up to take them on a journey through your collection.”
“I’m feeling you. So…. sunglasses near the register?”
“And make sure where you stand, the sun is pouring in from behind you. They’ll realize that maybe they need some sunglasses. Boom, extra sales.”
I didn’t expect both Rough sisters to be such shrewd businesswomen.
“Good evening, my sweet Fig,” I say, making my presence known and wrapping my hands around her waist.
Lemon cocks an eyebrow. “Speaking of the sun… it's getting awfully low in the sky. I think I’ll let you too lovebirds be.”
The older sister chuckles to Fig as she struts out of the shop.
I dance with Fig, holding her close. “You seem anxious.”
“How can I not be? I’m throwing a big opening day party next week. Everyone in town will probably stop by. And I have to keep a smile on my face to convince myself this isn’t a bad idea and a waste of money.”
“It’s what you want. It’s not a waste of money, Fig. I believe in you. And I’m so fucking proud of you for going for this. For sticking to your guns, and for following your heart.”
“Is that just because my heart told me to marry you out of the blue months ago?”
“Well, yeah. If your heart told you to do that, your heart is pretty smart. I trust it to make good decisions.”
She turns in my arms and flashes me those beautiful brown eyes of hers. “My heart wouldn’t have done any of this without you, Hank. Without you, I would have buckled, and I’d be miserable in Los Angeles right now, working under some stuffy cruel asshole, instead of paving my own way in my hometown.”
“It’s a lovely place, Fig. It’s why I think you’ll succeed.”
“Because of Home?”
“Why’s someone going to go to some department store in the next town over when they can get something better from you?”
“Speed? Price? Convenience?”
“I guess in some cases? But I think the people of Home are dedicated to supporting one another. They’ll come to you if they can. How do you think the store shoe before you prospered for so long? It didn’t go out of business. The owner just retired.”
She nods. “I need you to keep me grounded. To keep me free from worry, Hank. I love you so much.”
“And I love you. And this town.”
I’m not just blowing smoke up her ass.
Every day I’m here I feel like it’s more of a community, and I’m a part of a bigger family. The Roughs have taken me in by marriage, and even before that, treated me well as Reuben’s friend.
I’m blessed to be a part of them, and to be a part of this town.
But more importantly, I’m blessed to have Fig, the woman I will love until the day I die.
EPILOGUE 2
FIG
ONE YEAR LATER
I flip the sign, go back to the counter and collapse onto the chair.
I’m exhausted.
And I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.
Being pregnant isn’t helping things. I’m only four months along, but I’m already feeling it. Fig’s Fashion and Function is my passion project, and I’m not going to give it up just because I’m too pregnant to work.
But maybe I should hire someone just to manage the counter so I can dedicate what little energy I have to the tailoring work.
I’ll have to do interviews though. And go through all the business that comes with legally hiring someone. Thankfully I got a family to lean on for support, and some of them know business stuff, like Bartlett.
The front door’s bells ring out as it swings open. I’m not surprised since it’s the same visitor I always get around this time of day.
Hank.
“Good evening, beautiful,” he says, in a sing-songy but oh so sincere voice.
He turns around and locks up the store, drawing the blinds.
“How was business today?”
“Busy,” I say, holding myself up, barely. “Too busy.”
“That’s good, right?”
He makes his way to me. He’s glistening, having broken a bit of sweat, enough to intensify his manly scent, but not too overwhelming. He’s looking exceptionally alluring today in his tight red shirt with the Home FD logo emblazoned on it. He also manages to make suspenders sexy. They’re holding up some baggier thick work pants.
“Did something happen today?”
Hank slides behind me at the counter, his grip tight around my waist, and his breath against my ear. “Kitchen fire got out of hand. We were called in. Managed to put it out before it spread too much, and thankfully no one was hurt besides some minor burns on the guy who thought the answer was more vegetable oil.”