Page 28 of The Overtime Persuasive
“No. Mostly they teach us not to post anything stupid online.”
She looks at me, trying not to laugh. “That must be very difficult for you.”
“You have no idea,” I tease back with a wink as I reach for the next order sheet and uncover a printed page beneath it. There’s a morning show logo at the top, followed by something about a holiday gift guide and independent businesses.
“What’s this?”
“Nothing.” Eva tries to take it, but I lift it out of reach.
I peer down at her, while she stands on her tiptoes. “You do realize I’m tall enough to wait you out.”
“I own a ladder.”
I lower the page before she goes and gets it, and she swipes the page from my hand, setting it face down beneath the order sheets.
“A couple of months ago, I saw they were looking for products from independent businesses for their holiday gift guide for this year,” she says. “It’s a guide that goes out every season for media outlets to cover. It’s a list of the top gifts you can purchase for the holidays. That’s where the box idea came from.”
“You made this for the gift guide?”
“I started thinking about what I could submit to the gift guide, and that kicked off the whole thing. Books didn’t feel like enough because every bookstore has books. Records weren’t enough either. So I put them together and added the candle, tea, and chocolate.”
“And then?”
She stares at me blankly, like I asked her how to breathe air. “And then I sold it.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She concentrates very hard on folding a piece of tissue paper. “And then…what? And then I sold my boxes and now we’re here.”
“You didn’t enter?”
Eva shakes her head and focuses on a box that is suddenly behaving stubbornly in her hands.
“I bet you have a list for next month too.”
“I do, the waitlist has one hundred and nine people on it for next month so far,” Eva mumbles. “However, none of this means a national television show wants one.”
“Did they say stores in Alexandria couldn’t enter?”
“No.”
“Did they say the owner had to believe she’d win before she applied?”
Eva gives me a flat look. “That isn’t how contests work.”
“Then I’m missing the part where you decided it couldn’t be you.”
She laughs, but there isn’t much humor in it. “Liam.”
“Why not you?” The question comes out before I can soften it. If we look at this closer, it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, watching someone take herself out of the running before anybody else gets the chance to choose her. Maybe because I know exactly what it feels like to want something and stand there pretending it doesn’t matter when somebody else gets it.
Eva slides the finished box away from her. “Because a couple of good months doesn’t mean the business is ready for that kind of attention.”
“What would make it ready?”
“Help.” Her eyes move toward the open laptop at the end of the table. “Someone in the store so I have time to work on the business. And, as much as it irks me to admit it out loud, I need help figuring out whether I can afford to do any of that without putting the store at risk.”
I place another record inside a box, making sure the sleeve sits flat.
