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Authors: Vickie McKeehan
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who wanted to take on remodeling their older homes. He’d be an idiot if he didn’t recognize that the business was right under his nose if someone bothered to nurture it. Tucker was no dummy. He wasn’t about to run anyone off. No one could accuse him of not understanding the benefit of helping people in his own customer base. A lumber and hardware store couldn’t survive for long with a habit of pissing off its clientele. The other half of that equation was working to establish a rapport with other business owners and encouraging goodwill among them.
Tucker intended to do everything within his power to right the ship, to correct the image his father had left him. Going over the books, the first thing was to increase sales and get regulars coming back into the store. He’d already met the owner of the pizza place, reached out to the triad ownership at Tradewinds Boatyard and to Cooper Richmond, who had opened his new enterprise across the street and called it, Layne’s Trains.
From the moment the train shop had opened a week ago, Tucker had done his best to mentor the man who’d made his living as a photographer before coming back to Pelican Pointe. For seven days, Tucker had watched with curiosity as people stopped in to reconnect with Cooper. While his own business lacked that friendly, welcoming spirit, Tucker took note. If Cooper could get a train store to do such a brisk business in a short amount of time, then there was hope for Ferguson’s.
Inside Layne’s Trains, Cooper could have set Tucker straight on that score.
In the week he’d been opened, it had been mostly the curious who had dropped in to shoot the bull. Old-timers who’d known him as a child wanted to see how the boy had grown into a man. No doubt they’d felt the need to see firsthand just how Layne and crazy Eleanor’s son had turned out. Cooper discovered that early on. The nosy ones had pushed him for details about his mother’s arrest for killing his father so many years ago.
Such was his life these days. He’d have to get used to it. But fortunately for him, there were others who had stopped in to meet and greet and pick out a few early Christmas presents. Those shoppers made up for the significant number who hadn’t actually bought anything.
With such measured success thus far, Cooper decided he’d better be able to fall back on his photography skills to pay the bills. So in a corner of the shop, he’d created an area he’d turned into a portrait studio. For the past week, he’d grabbed his camera more often than he’d gone near his trains.
Kinsey Donnelly had coaxed him into taking portraits of her babies. A string of other moms had persuaded him to snap shots of their kids. That idea ballooned when the principal, Julianne Dickinson, had drafted him into becoming the official photographer for school photos. He’d done a number of passport pictures, a couple of engagement shots for Bree Dennison, which had led him to offer to shoot her nuptials. Strange thing was, he actually looked forward to the event. Did that make him a wedding photographer? He didn’t care what people labeled him as long as he could make a living and pay his bills doing what he enjoyed. And so it seemed after years of avoiding his childhood home, Cooper Richmond had come back and fit comfortably into its way of life.
His brother, Caleb, and his sister, Drea, were an integral part of the reason why. All three had tried to put their twisted childhood behind them. Most in town seemed to understand that and had given them space, didn’t ask a lot of stupid questions in the process. Then there were the little old ladies like Marabelle and her sister, Ina Crawford, Myrtle Pettibone, and Ethel Jenkins, who had lavished him with gifts for the little house he’d rented. Within a week, they’d shown up at either the shop or home to bring him an assortment of handmade quilts, crocheted tablecloths, knitted pot holders, and hand-sewn dish towels. But with
Tucker intended to do everything within his power to right the ship, to correct the image his father had left him. Going over the books, the first thing was to increase sales and get regulars coming back into the store. He’d already met the owner of the pizza place, reached out to the triad ownership at Tradewinds Boatyard and to Cooper Richmond, who had opened his new enterprise across the street and called it, Layne’s Trains.
From the moment the train shop had opened a week ago, Tucker had done his best to mentor the man who’d made his living as a photographer before coming back to Pelican Pointe. For seven days, Tucker had watched with curiosity as people stopped in to reconnect with Cooper. While his own business lacked that friendly, welcoming spirit, Tucker took note. If Cooper could get a train store to do such a brisk business in a short amount of time, then there was hope for Ferguson’s.
Inside Layne’s Trains, Cooper could have set Tucker straight on that score.
In the week he’d been opened, it had been mostly the curious who had dropped in to shoot the bull. Old-timers who’d known him as a child wanted to see how the boy had grown into a man. No doubt they’d felt the need to see firsthand just how Layne and crazy Eleanor’s son had turned out. Cooper discovered that early on. The nosy ones had pushed him for details about his mother’s arrest for killing his father so many years ago.
Such was his life these days. He’d have to get used to it. But fortunately for him, there were others who had stopped in to meet and greet and pick out a few early Christmas presents. Those shoppers made up for the significant number who hadn’t actually bought anything.
With such measured success thus far, Cooper decided he’d better be able to fall back on his photography skills to pay the bills. So in a corner of the shop, he’d created an area he’d turned into a portrait studio. For the past week, he’d grabbed his camera more often than he’d gone near his trains.
Kinsey Donnelly had coaxed him into taking portraits of her babies. A string of other moms had persuaded him to snap shots of their kids. That idea ballooned when the principal, Julianne Dickinson, had drafted him into becoming the official photographer for school photos. He’d done a number of passport pictures, a couple of engagement shots for Bree Dennison, which had led him to offer to shoot her nuptials. Strange thing was, he actually looked forward to the event. Did that make him a wedding photographer? He didn’t care what people labeled him as long as he could make a living and pay his bills doing what he enjoyed. And so it seemed after years of avoiding his childhood home, Cooper Richmond had come back and fit comfortably into its way of life.
His brother, Caleb, and his sister, Drea, were an integral part of the reason why. All three had tried to put their twisted childhood behind them. Most in town seemed to understand that and had given them space, didn’t ask a lot of stupid questions in the process. Then there were the little old ladies like Marabelle and her sister, Ina Crawford, Myrtle Pettibone, and Ethel Jenkins, who had lavished him with gifts for the little house he’d rented. Within a week, they’d shown up at either the shop or home to bring him an assortment of handmade quilts, crocheted tablecloths, knitted pot holders, and hand-sewn dish towels. But with
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