Page 60 of Sugar & Shadows

She flipped a few more pages as I processed this information.

“Is she a pollster?” I asked Sabrina.

“Better.” With a grin, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Business owners are nervous,” Nina explained. “Sophie and Walt are already feeling revenue hits in food service, and Mel who does the fly fishing trips is worried she may not be able to open for the season.” Tapping the table, she zeroed in on me. “This is a big opportunity for you. Shore up support with the farmers first and introduce some new initiatives to draw more attention to the town. Do that, and you’ll stabilize the small business vote.”

I nodded, in complete agreement but stunned. When had twenty-three-year-old Nina Dunne become a shrewd political analyst?

“We took the liberty of putting together a teeny-tiny to-do list for you.” Laurie stood and handed me a binder.

It was heavy, and it was tabbed and marked with names, locations, maps, and other details.

“Page one is an overview of what we need this week. And a list of materials that will help you.”

I opened it up, perusing the neatly typed information. “This is impressive.”

Laurie grinned. “I’m a librarian.”

“So you want me to—” I studied the page for day one. It listed seventeen tasks, each with a blank box beside it for me to check off.

“Boots-on-the-ground diplomacy,” Sabrina said. “You’re the mayor, the face of this. Start with the farms. We created a schedule for you based on location and importance to the project.”

“Wow them,” Nina encouraged, though her tone was still flat. “With innovation and a plan for fixing things.”

“And give us authorization to buy the tech,” Harper shouted.

“Word will spread that you’re reaching out. That you’re listening and taking steps to fix the problems we’re having,” Nina explained.

“Make sure the farmers all sign the releases we printed out,” Sabrina said.

“Once we get the social strategy in place, we can move onto phase two.”

“What’s phase two?” I asked, my head spinning.

“Direct-to-consumer sales and branding,” Laurie announced. “Our farmers and artisans can’t depend on bulk seasonal sales. It isn’t sustainable. We have a few programs in mind to build recurring income through subscriptions.”

“Subscriptions?” I asked. “For syrup?”

“And cheese.”

“And potentially honey, jam, and handmade crafts,” Marigold chirped.

“People love getting monthly deliveries. And Isla Fitzgerald has a background in shipping and receiving. We plan to talk to her about forming a co-op that farmers and producers can opt into so they can sell on a recurring basis.”

I scratched my head, my mind spinning. How would all of this work? “You think people are going to pay for monthly syrup deliveries?”

Laurie blinked at me. “Yes.”

“City people will pay for anything ‘artisanal,’” Nina said flatly.

“And they will want these limited-edition products because by the time we’re ready to start shipping, they will love Maplewood and want to own a piece of us,” Harper said. “If our social strategy works, not only will we drive people to visit, but they’ll develop emotional attachments to our brand. With that connection, it shouldn’t be terribly difficult to sell the products produced by our farmers and small businesses.”

“Come on, Gabe,” Marigold said, stomping her cane on the floor. “It’s synergy.”

I laughed. Actually barked out a laugh. A ninety-year-old woman was lecturing me about synergy?

“It’ll also be a big old fuck-you to Birch Hollow,” she said. “And at the end of the day, isn’t that what we all want?”