Liza never claimed to have a mild temper. It flared now and her fists balled at her sides. “So how are you staying afloat?” she asked between clenched teeth.
“I’m not. Not really. The bank’s given me another month to make up a couple of back payments. But I’ll inevitably close the shop.”
“How much do you owe?” Liza asked, not at all sure where that question came from or why she’d posed such a personal query.
>
Ginger’s pale cheeks flushed bright red as she admitted, “Few thousand.”
“Hmm.” Liza did some quick calculations in her head, mentally brainstorming the situation as Ginger carefully wrapped the nighties in floral-scented, pink-colored tissue and sealed them with sparkly red stickers in the shape of lips.
As she loaded everything into a large shopper’s bag, Liza said, “I’m from New York, if you haven’t guessed. Just moved here. I don’t know that much about Wilder yet, but if sales were good when you first opened and now they’ve tapered off, I’m not wholly convinced it’s the economy. Women still need panties, even in tough times.”
The prices were reasonable here. So much more so than the department stores Liza was accustomed to or even mail-order catalogs.
“If discretion has become a problem,” she continued on, “There are ways around that.”
Ginger’s face lit up again, chasing away some of the embarrassment and dismay. “Like how?”
“Well, a website for one thing.”
She instantly frowned. “Oh well. I don’t know anything about that. And wouldn’t that just be one more expense I couldn’t manage?”
“Not necessarily. There are plenty of ways to run a virtual store. Economical ways. And the best part is that your customers can submit their orders online and you can ship them directly to their home in discreet packaging. No one would know the purchase had come from your store. Plus,” Liza added, her brain kicking into high gear. “You could charge a small handling rate—add it to the shipping cost—that would help to offset the costs of maintaining the website. Charge a service fee for delivering the goods personally at the customers’ preferred time and place, if they’re inclined. A personal touch they might appreciate.”
Liza’s mind churned with all sorts of possibilities to salvage Ginger’s business and the shop owner clearly wanted to hear every idea, if her eager gaze were any indication.
“If push comes to shove and you absolutely have to forfeit the building,” Liza continued, “you could still operate your business, just as a virtual store rather than a bricks and mortar one. Sans inflated rent and busybodies who don’t want to see your product on public display.”
Ginger got the point. “I do hate arguing with Mrs. Bain. Every Saturday and Sunday,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
Liza couldn’t help but laugh. “I assure you. Lydia Bain would have no power over your online sales.”
She smiled, her green eyes glowing bright. “I wouldn’t lose everything if I did that.”
“You’re forgetting the most important part,” Liza said. “The Internet is global. Your store here caters to the residents of Wilder and whatever tourists you get. An online store reaches every country on every continent. Everyone looking for beautiful, sexy lingerie at a price that makes them want to buy five of everything.”
She clasped her hands together, excited by the prospect. “I never thought of that at all. Oh my gosh. I could have women in….Georgia…ordering from me.”
“Georgia, Asia,” Liza pointed out.
“Oh!” The saucers that were her eyes said she saw the big picture Liza had painted. “That’s a whole new world of opportunity!”
“Indeed.” Liza grinned as she handed over a credit card.
“Well, I just feel so bad about taking your money now. After all the help you’ve given me.”
“You still have rent to pay this month.”
“Yes, there is that.” She took the platinum card, albeit reluctantly. “Can I at least buy you lunch sometime?”
The invitation was unexpected, yet so sweet and genuine, Liza felt the tears well up in her own eyes. Surprisingly. “That’s not necessary, really.”
“Oh I insist. Besides, I want to hear all about you. All we’ve done is talk about me.”
Liza was overwhelmed by her sincerity, to say the least. “I’d love to have lunch with you, Ginger.” She jotted down her cell number on a pad of Post-It notes Ginger kept next to the register. “Call me anytime.”
“How about Monday afternoon?” she said, her enthusiasm evident.