When the tablecloths were on and the displays done exactly how Georgia had specified, Margot stood back and eyed it critically. “I wish we had some different levels on the table. And more depth.”
I frowned. “Depth?”
“Yes. I love the different-sized baskets on the ground and the old barrels. But on the actual tables, I think we could use something more.” She tapped her chin with one finger. “The banner needs to be redone once you have your new logo, and we should also get it on the tablecloth front. I’d like to see it be a little modern and a little old-fashioned at the same time. On-trend but authentic.”
“What difference does it make? Shouldn’t the quality of the product be what attracts people?”
She smiled indulgently at me. “That will bring them back. But look at how many people are setting up here right now. How are you going to stand out? People make decisions about first impressions in under a second, Jack. You need to catch their eye with something visually stunning. Lure them in.”
I scratched my head. I had no idea how to do that, but if anyone knew visually stunning, it was Margot.
She came around the tables and grabbed her purse. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going? Don’t you want to eat lunch before it opens?”
“Give me ten minutes,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried off.
She was back in five with potted herbs and flowers at varying heights, which she set up on the table, rearranging things to make room. Standing back, she studied it again and nodded. “Better. And that basil smells so good. Once we sell some things, I’ll use the empty boxes to sort of prop up the little crates along the back of the table, but this will work for now.”
I arched a brow at her. “You’re the boss. Ready to eat?”
“Yes. I’m ravenous, actually.”
We ate lunch at our stand, scarfing down the sandwiches, pickles, and cookies Georgia had packed. “I hope they get to see the house today,” Margot said around a mouthful of cookie.
I uncapped my water bottle and took a drink.
She kicked my foot. “Hey. Don’t you?”
“I guess.”
She clucked her tongue. “You’re such a poop. Well, I’m excited for them. It’s their dream!”
“I know,” I said grudgingly. “And while I can’t say I like the prospect of them buying that peeling, splintering old heap, I do like knowing it’s making Pete and Georgia happy.”
“That is because underneath your grouchy exterior beats an actual heart.” She gave me a superior look. “Admit it—you’re really a softie.”
I made a face. “A softie? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Don’t worry, Farmer Frownypants, your secret is safe with me.” She patted my leg. “I won’t tell anyone how sweet you really are.”
I leaned over to whisper in her ear. “And I won’t tell anyone how dirty you really are.”
She gasped and giggled. “You better not.”
“Jack?”
I looked up at the woman who’d spoken, and for a terrifying second, I thought I was seeing a ghost. Holy shit. “Suzanne.” Immediately I sat back in my chair and moved it away from Margot’s a little.
“I thought that was you. I saw the banner and expected it would be Pete and Georgia.” Steph’s younger sister looked at Margot and then back at me. “Haven’t seen you here in forever.”
“Yeah, I don’t usually do them.” Fuck, the older she got, the more Suzanne looked like Steph—same coloring, same height and build, even the same voice. They were three years apart, so Suzanne had to be thirty now, the age Steph had been when she died.
“Well, come here, you big lug.” She opened her arms, and I stood up, coming around the side of the stand to give her an awkward hug. She went up on tiptoe the way Steph used to do to get her arms around me, and my stomach turned over. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” I lied, letting her go and retreating behind the stand as quickly as I could. At least she didn’t smell like Steph. Suzanne was wearing flowery perfume, and Steph had never touched the stuff.
“Hi. I’m Margot Lewiston.” Margot stood and offered Suzanne her hand and a smile.
Did Suzanne hesitate before taking it? Maybe I only imagined it. My equilibrium was off, and I’d started to sweat.
“Suzanne Reischling.” She shook Margot’s hand, and though she wore sunglasses and I couldn’t see her eyes, I sensed her sizing Margot up from heel to hair.
“Nice to meet you,” Margot said.
“You too.” Suzanne took her hand back. “Are you a new employee at the farm?”
Margot laughed. “Sort of. I’m doing some marketing work for them. Helping them with branding and PR, that kind of thing.”
“Interesting.” Suzanne folded her arms. “Are you from around here?”
“No, I’m actually from Grosse Pointe, which is just north of Detroit.”
“I know where it is.”