CHAPTER NINETEEN
This Isn’t a Job
Interview
When Howard Crest
called to tell me that he had a potential buyer coming in to see
the store, he provided all the inspiration I needed to finish the
display cases and to install and merchandise them. It required
staying up most of the night, but it was likely I was going to be
doing that anyway. I’d grown somewhat accustomed to having
something to think about after seeing Iris and I certainly had an
entire sleepless night’s worth of thinking in store after our last
visit. That I could make productive use of the time was a side
benefit. That all of the thinking wasn’t going to provide me with
any kind of resolution was a given. I felt simultaneously more and
less in control of my fate with Iris. More, because she seemed to
be inviting me into the process. Less, because her doing so gave
Chase a more prominent place in the room in my mind.
The cases, on the
other hand, looked great. Simply removing the white Formica and
replacing it with oak would have been dramatic enough. But I was
genuinely pleased with the work I’d done. After a few false starts,
this long-abandoned skill had come back to me readily. And while I
hadn’t been doing anything like this, I’d been doing enough with my
hands over the past decade that the extra ten years of experience
seemed to make me smarter and more efficient in the workshop.
Jenna, one of the three new people I’d hired, helped me stock the
shelves. We started with the new merchandise I’d ordered, which had
been sitting in the back room awaiting the cases. But even some of
the dusty old items my father had been selling (or not selling) for
years looked better in this new setting.
“Big improvement,”
Jenna said when we stepped back to look at what we’d done. Since
she had only started a few days before, she was speaking
specifically about the displays. But I wanted to believe that she
was talking about the entire minor renovation I’d given the store.
Face Melters on the candy shelves. Financial and Men’s Health
sections in the magazine rack. A four-foot section of Dave Kringer
cards. HuggaGhouls. Mexican tiles. Handmade coffee mugs. Jon
McLaughlin on the iPod. Improvement indeed, at least in my eyes,
though I wasn’t sure what my father would think of it.
The previous week had
been the largest nonholiday week in the store’s history. I’d
actually needed to call in backup staff on Saturday. I wanted to
believe that the work I’d done had contributed to that, though it
could very well have been because of the great tourist summer Amber
was having. Regardless, as I looked around, I was
pleased.
Howard came in with
his client about an hour later. Pat Maple owned several stationery
stores in Westchester County. He seemed to be a couple of years
younger than my father, but he was decidedly more entrepreneurial.
Within the first ten minutes of our meeting, he’d explained to me
why he’d chosen each of his six locations and who his target
customers were.
“I’ve got great
spots,” he said. “Scarsdale, Larchmont, Rye. People with lots of
money who don’t mind spending four bucks for a three-subject spiral
bound. We don’t have as much – ” he glanced around him “ –
different stuff as you have here. I tend to think you stick to the
basics: school supplies, cards, candy, newspapers. But I guess this
is a different kind of neighborhood, huh?”
“People seem to like
the other stuff around here,” I said.
“Yeah, well from what
Howard’s told me, your old man has done okay with this place, so I
guess he knew what he was doing. Sorry to hear about his heart
attack, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
We walked around the
store and Pat asked me a number of intelligent questions. I’d
prepared so many details about the store over the past few months
in expectation of a debriefing that hadn’t come. It was refreshing
to talk to someone who wanted this information, even if I got the
impression that he was sneering at the carving on my display
cases.
“We’re not exactly
around the corner from Scarsdale up here,” I said. “What made you
come to Amber?”
“The daughter. She’s
twenty-four and she’s been out of school for a few years and still
doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life. She likes it
around here. I figure I can install her in this area if I find a
store I like. I guess she’ll want to come look at this herself.
She’ll probably like all the things you have in here. She’s like
that. Tell me about the water problem.”
“It’s not a problem.
Some pipes gave way long before they were supposed to. We did
extensive work on it. Extensive. I have all the
documentation.”
“I’m sure you do. You
been running this place for your old man long?”
“Just a few
months.”
“You seem to know
your way around.”
“Grew up with
it.”
“Ah,” he said,
laughing. “It’s in the blood. I wish my daughter was more like
that. What’re you gonna do after the place sells.”
“I really haven’t
decided yet.”
“Well if you wanna
come down to Westchester, I might have a store for you to run.” He
laughed again, though it wasn’t clear what he was laughing at. “But
this isn’t a job interview. Let’s go look at the
books.”
We spent another
forty-five minutes together. There was little question that Pat
Maple knew his business and when he saw that some of the toy and
gift merchandise sold especially well, I could almost see him
recalibrating. Maybe the Mexican tiles would survive after
all.
As we walked out of
the office, he said, “Can Patrice come to take a look
tomorrow?”
“Yeah, of
course.”
He nodded and pulled
out a cell phone to call his daughter. Howard Crest smiled at me
and I tilted my head in his direction. While it certainly seemed
that Pat liked the store and that this was the kind of playpen he’d
been looking for, I wasn’t about to get overly excited until we had
an offer on the table.
That afternoon, Tyler
walked into the store carrying a bag of truffles from the chocolate
shop.
“You have to stop
coming in here on your off days,” I said when I saw
him.
“Just a quick stop, I
promise. You said you were going to put the displays in today and I
wanted to come by to take a look at them and to give you these.” He
handed me the truffles. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said,
touched by the gesture. “The cases look pretty good,
huh?”
“They look terrific.
You’re good at this. Maybe the next profession?”
“I’ll add it to the
list. Hey, a guy came in to look at the store today. He seemed kind
of interested.”
“Great. Time to go
west, young man.”
“Well, I’m not so
sure about that anymore, but that’s a story for another
day.”
“Sounds like we’ll be
having an extra drink tomorrow night.” He looked around the store
and I could see a mix of emotions on his face. Pride. Satisfaction.
Maybe a hint of nostalgia, though I might have been imagining that
one. Then he flipped his eyes back to me and pointed to the bag.
“Those are champagne truffles.”
I opened the bag and
tilted it in his direction. “Want one?”
“Actually, the
truffle part is for you. The champagne part is for
me.”
“Meaning?”
“I got a job in the
City.”
I pulled the bag back
and threw an arm around his shoulders. “That’s great. That place
you really wanted?”
“They were still
trying to make a decision as of this morning. And then out of
nowhere I got a call from one of the guys I saw that first trip
after graduation. The guy at that independent marketing firm?
Something opened up and he’d been holding my resume on his desk
since I went in to talk to him. I’m starting in three
weeks.”
“That’s fantastic.
I’m really happy for you.” I paused and threw him a semifacetious
look of disappointment. “Even though you’re abandoning
me.”
Tyler laughed, though
his eyes traveled down to the floor as he did so. “I’m not
abandoning you. That guy who came in today is going to make a great
offer and soon both of us will be on to new
conquests.”
I put my arm around
him again and walked him toward the back of the store. “Yeah,
you’re still abandoning me, but I’ll pretend that what you just
said makes me feel better. Let’s go eat some chocolate and you can
tell me all about it and then I can tell you how you’re going to
hire your own replacement.”
I closed the door to
the back office and we talked for nearly a half hour while Jenna
guarded the store up front. I was very happy for Tyler and I had
certainly known that this moment was in the offing, but I couldn’t
help feeling a little saddened by the fact that he was leaving. It
wasn’t about losing him as an employee. The store didn’t need
anyone nearly as competent as he was in order to run effectively.
It was about losing his presence, especially on closing nights. For
as long as I stayed in Amber after he left, it was going to be
emptier without him.
While we talked,
Howard called. Even before having his daughter come to see the
store, Pat Maple was making an offer. It was a lowball and not one
that Howard was asking me to take to my father, but he was certain
that Maple was serious. We discussed strategy for a short while –
it was the first time I’d been impressed with the way Howard’s mind
worked – and then he hung up to call Maple back.
When I got off the
phone, I told Tyler what was happening.
“Looks like you’d
better start packing, Hugh,” he said.
That certainly seemed
to be the case. The clock was ticking down on my days in this town.
That meant that all notions about where to go next would need to
stop being fanciful ones.
It was daunting and
it was stimulating.