profits were not up, nor had they ever been.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "I knew that guy was a good-for-nothing...not a damn cent, huh?"
"Doesn't look like it. But, Uncle Phil, listen. I have a proposition for you."
"Okay."
"Sam doesn't want to run the shop herself. She really wasn't much into the business end of it
and now that Jeff's gone, she'd rather not deal with it at all." She waited to hear his
reaction.
"Go on," he urged, his tone unreadable.
"She said to tell you to sell it."
Silence. Then, "She did, did she?"
"Yes."
"Can't say I'm surprised," he sighed. "Al right. Let me—"
"Would you sell it to me?" She blurted the question before she had time to chicken out.
"What?"
"Sell it to me. I've been doing a lot of work on it, and some research, and I have some ideas
I'd like to try. It's a great little place, it just hasn't had the right attention. I'd like to give it a shot, see if I can make a go of it."
"Sell it to you?"
"That's right. Look, work gave me a great severance package. I can afford it... I think... and I just..." She blew out a breath, trying to find the right words to express her desire to her
uncle and make him understand this was something she needed. "I don't know, Uncle Phil. I
just want to try this. It's been eating at me since I first walked in. I think I might be able to
pull it off. If it doesn't work, I'll just sell it myself. Either way, you'll be rid of it." She listened to her uncle's breathing, almost able to hear the wheels turning, unaware that she
was holding her own breath.
"Wel , Red," he said finally, "I've never known you to make a business decision with your head up your ass. If this is something you think you want, let's do it."
Melanie expel ed the air from her burning lungs with a whoosh of relief. "Thanks, Uncle Phil."
"I'll have to dig up some paperwork. I'm not sure about details, so I'll have to cal you back
tomorrow or Tuesday. That be all right?"
"That would be great. You're the best. You won't regret this."
"No, I don't think I will," he chuckled at his niece's obvious enthusiasm. "I'll be in touch."
"Okay."
Melanie sat staring at the phone for a long time. Did she just do what she thought she did?
The bookstore was actually going to be hers. Hers. She had no idea why the fact excited her
so. It couldn't be the responsibility. She'd had that at Rucker and Steele.
She'd had a staff of fifteen that she oversaw, not to mention the clout she'd had with the
Board. And it certainly wasn't the money.
She didn't realistically expect to see a profit any time soon. There was too much cleaning up
to do, restocking and liquidation of inventory. What was it? Why did the prospect of owning
her own business make her giddy?
She poured herself a glass of iced tea and went out to the back yard. Sitting at the picnic
table, she watched a cardinal poking at the grass. "Melanie Larson, Owner," she said aloud. It brought a girlish smile to her face, and she bit back the urge to giggle out loud. She'd never
had anything that was just hers. She'd never allowed herself the time.
"Wow." She raised her eyebrows, suddenly realizing the scope of things. From now on, when it came to the bookstore, she was God. She was now responsible for the success or failure of it.
Her. Melanie. Not Sam. Not Jeff. No bigwigs in upper management with the final say. Just
her.
A little tiny piece of anxiety crept out from a corner of her brain, poking at her. She
swallowed, suddenly nervous. What the hel had she done? Was she some kind of idiot? What
kind of a moron buys a business they know nothing about? She tried to shake the doubts out
of her head, realizing with a start that owning the bookstore meant relocating to Rochester
permanently. She slapped herself on the forehead.
"Duh," she scolded herself, heading back into the carriage house with her empty glass. "I've got some moving to do. I need to find an apartment. And I've got to come up with a better
name for
"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "I knew that guy was a good-for-nothing...not a damn cent, huh?"
"Doesn't look like it. But, Uncle Phil, listen. I have a proposition for you."
"Okay."
"Sam doesn't want to run the shop herself. She really wasn't much into the business end of it
and now that Jeff's gone, she'd rather not deal with it at all." She waited to hear his
reaction.
"Go on," he urged, his tone unreadable.
"She said to tell you to sell it."
Silence. Then, "She did, did she?"
"Yes."
"Can't say I'm surprised," he sighed. "Al right. Let me—"
"Would you sell it to me?" She blurted the question before she had time to chicken out.
"What?"
"Sell it to me. I've been doing a lot of work on it, and some research, and I have some ideas
I'd like to try. It's a great little place, it just hasn't had the right attention. I'd like to give it a shot, see if I can make a go of it."
"Sell it to you?"
"That's right. Look, work gave me a great severance package. I can afford it... I think... and I just..." She blew out a breath, trying to find the right words to express her desire to her
uncle and make him understand this was something she needed. "I don't know, Uncle Phil. I
just want to try this. It's been eating at me since I first walked in. I think I might be able to
pull it off. If it doesn't work, I'll just sell it myself. Either way, you'll be rid of it." She listened to her uncle's breathing, almost able to hear the wheels turning, unaware that she
was holding her own breath.
"Wel , Red," he said finally, "I've never known you to make a business decision with your head up your ass. If this is something you think you want, let's do it."
Melanie expel ed the air from her burning lungs with a whoosh of relief. "Thanks, Uncle Phil."
"I'll have to dig up some paperwork. I'm not sure about details, so I'll have to cal you back
tomorrow or Tuesday. That be all right?"
"That would be great. You're the best. You won't regret this."
"No, I don't think I will," he chuckled at his niece's obvious enthusiasm. "I'll be in touch."
"Okay."
Melanie sat staring at the phone for a long time. Did she just do what she thought she did?
The bookstore was actually going to be hers. Hers. She had no idea why the fact excited her
so. It couldn't be the responsibility. She'd had that at Rucker and Steele.
She'd had a staff of fifteen that she oversaw, not to mention the clout she'd had with the
Board. And it certainly wasn't the money.
She didn't realistically expect to see a profit any time soon. There was too much cleaning up
to do, restocking and liquidation of inventory. What was it? Why did the prospect of owning
her own business make her giddy?
She poured herself a glass of iced tea and went out to the back yard. Sitting at the picnic
table, she watched a cardinal poking at the grass. "Melanie Larson, Owner," she said aloud. It brought a girlish smile to her face, and she bit back the urge to giggle out loud. She'd never
had anything that was just hers. She'd never allowed herself the time.
"Wow." She raised her eyebrows, suddenly realizing the scope of things. From now on, when it came to the bookstore, she was God. She was now responsible for the success or failure of it.
Her. Melanie. Not Sam. Not Jeff. No bigwigs in upper management with the final say. Just
her.
A little tiny piece of anxiety crept out from a corner of her brain, poking at her. She
swallowed, suddenly nervous. What the hel had she done? Was she some kind of idiot? What
kind of a moron buys a business they know nothing about? She tried to shake the doubts out
of her head, realizing with a start that owning the bookstore meant relocating to Rochester
permanently. She slapped herself on the forehead.
"Duh," she scolded herself, heading back into the carriage house with her empty glass. "I've got some moving to do. I need to find an apartment. And I've got to come up with a better
name for
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