Free A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga) by Nicole Grotepas Page B

at the label-maker. There’s no way this will help, she thought.
    “What are you waiting for?”
    “I just don’t think it’ll work. Finding stuff in our store isn’t the problem,” she pointed out, beginning to fidget with the label-maker. Maybe she’d make something funny and stick it where Audra would find it, randomly.
    “Oh yeah, is that what you think?” Ferg snapped.
    “What we need is to approach selling differently. You said yourself, people come to the store for the personal touch. How can we make it more personal? And how can we widen our clientele?”
    “So what are you picturing?” he asked, thoughtfully, leaning against the stool again, one arm crossed, the other stroking his chin. “Like, maybe band signings or something?”
    “Yeah, and maybe turning the store into a venue some nights. Having little intimate shows with the indie bands and local artists. But to broaden whom we sell to, we need to sell online. EBay, Amazon, stuff like that, and ship to people.” As the idea blossomed, her voice became more animated, excited about the prospect of saving something she cared about. 
    “I agree. I’ve tried to get Darryl to OK that before, but he says it’ll cost too much upfront—to get everything uploaded and catalogued.”
    “Stupid Darryl, if he had a better system, a transition like that would be so much swifter.”
    “Swifter? Like, the broom company?” Ferg teased.
    “Shut up.” She rolled her eyes.
    “Let’s brainstorm more. Take notes.” He handed her the clipboard.
    “OK, I don’t see why you can’t take notes.” She took it from him reluctantly, eyeing the chewed on pen.
    “I’m the thinker. You’re the writer.” Ferg stood up and began to pace as though he’d been the mastermind behind the plan. Kate shrugged, not minding. If it saved the store, why did it matter who came up with the concept?
    “If I’m going to write, I’m taking the stool,” Kate said, walking around behind the counter.
    “Fine. Just this once,” Ferg conceded, moving out from behind the counter into the blues vinyl section opposite the entrance.
    They began to draft their plan to save the store. It was best to strike while the iron was hot, they decided, and Kate couldn’t have agreed more. The blow to her security that Ferg’s announcement made let in new light and the ideas began to flow like spring run off, or like knocking out an old decrepit wall to begin a renovation.
    When a customer came in, Kate and Ferg paused and gave that person their full attention, trying to up-sell and make them feel comfortable, rather than driving customers away with elitist attitudes (that wasn’t easy). It was funny how it worked, Kate noticed—when the employees of Suga’s thought they had it made, they’d treated customers like crap. When Ferg, Kate, and the others realized how much they needed the customers, said customers—no matter how doltish—were suddenly royalty.
    By the time Luke came in at two, Kate and Ferg had a good list going. Ferg gave Luke the news, which he absorbed without fainting. And then he pitched in. The three of them decided they’d need to invest some of their free time and money into opening a virtual storefront, and do it bit by bit. Instead of spending so much in-store time alphabetizing and pricing used albums, one of them would always be uploading product and quantities to the storefront. Ferg decided he’d go to Darryl with their plan and ask for an integrated system that would keep track of store sales and quantities and also update online information at the same time.
    Then they began to map out how to host bands and shows. The competition would be Salt and Sugar Coffee, but there was no reason they couldn’t utilize their proximity to Suga’s benefit. They decided there should be several little mini-festivals with local bands where Suga’s hosted a band and Salt and Sugar hosted a band, and anyone else along the block that made up their little collection of