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I shrugged. “Most of the titles there are also carried at Mount Vernon. Or any of the other historic sites that have a gift shop. Usually when I sell one, the conversation is along the lines of how they looked at it when they were visiting such and such a place, but now seeing it again they had to have it. Sometimes, I’m tempted to get rid of it all together. But they do sell in small quantities.”
“You carry independently published books, right?” Jenna turned back to face me.
“Some, yeah. I’ve been thinking I could expand that, somehow. The question is how.” I sighed and leaned my elbows on the counter beside the register. “I’ve had a few authors stop by and ask about selling on consignment. I don’t really want to do it that way.”
“Why not?”
I frowned and struggled to organize my thoughts. “I guess because it somehow makes the books feel less to me. Does that make sense?”
Jenna wiggled a hand from side to side.
“You think I should do that? It’s less risk for me. I can give the books back if they don’t sell. But then, I feel like I’d have to keep them on a separate shelf, not mix them in with their genres on the regular shelves, and then the only people who are going to find them are the ones who are already interested in an indie title. Which means fewer people will discover the amazing stories that are getting published outside of the traditional publishers these days.”
“Unless they’re looking for local authors.”
I pursed my lips and considered Jenna’s statement. On the one hand, the people stopping by to suggest selling on consignment had to be local. On the other? If I was going to buff up my support of indie authors, there was no reason I couldn’t put that on the website and make it possible for any independent author to send their books. “I guess I could limit it to local authors. Or, what if I agreed to buy say ten copies at an agreed-on wholesale amount? Then they’d be my books to do what I wanted with and if they sold, I could get more. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t. But ten is a nice number for an author to sell, and it cuts down on reorder frequency. Maybe.”
Jenna laughed. “Sounds like you already know what you want to do.”
“I guess it does.” I couldn’t explain why I was still so unsure. So tentative. The bookstore was mine to run as I wanted, but it had belonged to Grandma for so long before that, I was used to having someone else give the final say. “Is it unique enough?”
“I think you should try it and see.” Jenna pushed off the bookshelf she’d been leaning against. “I’m going to go sit in the comfy seats. Am I chronically early or is everyone else late all the time?”
I snagged my phone from under the counter and followed her. “It’s more that the Friday thing is a loose, unstructured meet-up. Everyone shows up when they can. If they can.”
“Ah.” Jenna settled into a chair.
I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Sometimes, Jenna was hard to read.
“Are you working on any fun projects for your firm right now?”
Jenna launched into a discussion of the remodel of a 1980-era ranch in Falls Church she was designing. I tried to follow along, but it didn’t seem like she actually cared. She was just happy to talk about load-bearing walls and beams and combining rooms to make them larger and more functional.
She was in the middle of describing how she was going to re-do the bedroom layout to make space for the primary bedroom to have anensuitewhen the bell over the door jingled and Kayla and Whitney arrived. Together.
“Hey, guys. Sorry to be late. Beckett.” Whitney rolled her eyes. “I really thought the phrase was terrible twos, not fearsome fours.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
“Gee. Thanks.” Whitney scrunched her face at me. “So much sympathy.”
I held up a hand and tried to get my chuckles under control. “I’m sorry. Sorry. My mom says it never gets better. It just gets different.”
“Yeah. That sounds about like what my mom keeps telling me.” Whitney blew out a breath. “I’m looking forward to seeing her. And heading to the beach.”
“When do you leave?” I was glad Scott had taken my advice and arranged the trip. Some time away would be good for all of them. Maybe even Beckett.
“Tomorrow afternoon. My folks couldn’t get away until then and I thought it’d be more fun—plus a little more efficient with the plane—to all go together.” Whitney sagged onto the couch. “Maybe it’s all the packing and rushing that set Beckett off. He’s excited. I know he is. I just wish…”
Kayla rubbed Whitney’s arm before turning to look at me. “How are Cody’s event plans going?”
“Good, I think. He ended up back here on Wednesday with another dessert choice.”
“Seriously? After we all helped at the bakery?” Kayla frowned. “What did he get rid of?”
“The custard.”
I closed my eyes and tried to drag up the explanation Cody had given. Sometimes when he talked, I missed the actual words because I was focused on his mouth. Which was stupid for a thousand reasons. He didn’t think of me that way. And I wasn’t going to ruin my relationship with him—the only one of my brother’s friends who didn’t treat me like I was an annoying little sister—because of my misguided crush.
