Meetings, projections, and plans for expansion kept Brad tied to HomeMakers for a couple of days. He couldn't complain, as it had been his idea to come back to Pleasant Valley, to make it his home base while overseeing the northeast quadrant of his family's business, revamping the Valley store and expanding it by fifteen thousand square feet.
That meant paperwork, conference calls, adjustments in staff and procedure, consultations with architects and contractors, haggling with or being wooed by suppliers.
He could handle it. He'd been raised to handle it and had spent the last seven years in the New York offices learning the ins and outs of being a top executive of one of the country's biggest retail chains.
He was a Vane, the fourth generation of the HomeMakers Vanes. He had no intention of dropping the ball. In fact, he fully intended to slam-dunk that ball by making the first HomeMakers store the biggest, the most prestigious, and the most profitable in the national system.
His father hadn't been thrilled by his decision. B.C. Vane III considered it based on sentiment. And so it was, Brad thought. And why not? His grandfather had built the humble hardware store, then gambled everything to push it outward, had developed it into a successful, consumerfriendly outlet for home improvement needs, into a staple of the Laurel Highlands.
And through guts, guile, and vision, had built a second store, then a third, then more, until he'd become a symbol of American enterprise with his face on Time magazine before his fiftieth birthday.
So it was sentiment, Brad thought, but that was leavened with a good dose of the Vane guts, guile, and vision.
He studied his hometown as he drove through the downtown area. The Valley was prospering in its quiet, steady way. The real estate market was strong in the county, and when people bought homes here, they tended to dig in and stay. Retail was up, and steadily above the national average. And tourist dollars maintained a nice healthy stream into the local economy.
The Valley prized its small-town ambience, but being an hour from Pittsburgh lent that ambience a sheen of sophistication.
For vacationers it offered hiking, skiing, boating, fishing, and charming inns, good restaurants. The flavor of country, all within an easy commute from the bustle of the city.
It was a good place to live, and a good place to do business.
Brad intended to do both.
Maybe he hadn't i
ntended to be quite so pressed, but he hadn't expected to come back and find himself spun into a search for mystical keys. And he hadn't expected to fall for a cautious single mother and her irresistible son.
Still, it was simply a matter of setting goals, establishing priorities, and taking care of the details.
He parked his car and walked into the Valley Dispatch to handle a few of those details.
He got a kick out of thinking of his friend running the local paper. Flynn might not project the image of a man who could, or would, ride herd on a staff, whip a daily through deadlines, and concern himself with advertising, content, and the price of paper. And that, Brad mused as he headed up to editorial and Flynn's office, was why his old buddy was so good at his job.
He had a way of pushing people to do things, and to do them his way, without letting them feel the nudge.
Brad wound his way around desks and reporters, through the cacophony of phones, keyboards, and voices. He smelled coffee, baked goods, and somebody's pine-scented aftershave.
And there was Flynn, within the glass walls of the editor in chief's office, sitting on the corner of his desk in a striped shirt, jeans, and banged-up Nikes.
Invoking the privilege of a thirty-year friendship, Brad strolled straight in through the open door.
"I'll cover that meeting personally, Mr. Mayor." Flynn jerked his head toward the phone on his desk, and the speaker light.
Grinning now, Brad slid his hands in his pockets and waited while Flynn finished the call.
"Sony. Didn't realize you were on the phone."
"So what's a mature executive such as yourself doing in my humble office this morning?" Flynn asked.
"Dropping off the layout for next week's insert."
"Those are some fancy threads for a messenger boy." Flynn fingered the sleeve of Brad's suit.
"I have to head into Pittsburgh later, for business." He dropped the file, on Flynn's desk. "And I wanted to talk to you about doing a ten-page, full-color pullout for the week before Thanksgiving. I want to hit Black Friday hard."
"I'm your man. You want my people to talk to your people. I like saying that," Flynn added. "It sounds so Hollywood."
"That's the idea. I'm generating this locally rather than out of corporate. It's specific to the Valley store, and I want it classy and convenient. Something the consumer can slide out and into a purse or pocket to bring along while shopping. And I want it exclusive. I want it in the Dispatch on a day without any other inserts, flyers, tip-ins."