merchandise, feeling a twinge of nostalgia as the familiar sights and smells took her back to her early years. Growing up in the store her grandparents owned had apparently left more of a mark than she’d realized.
The setting, though, couldn’t have been more different. She crossed the store to gaze out the front window. Back in Ohio, she would have looked out at a neat row of red-brick buildings, with shoppers bustling to and fro and carriages lined up along the tree-lined street. Here, the air was filled with a haze of dust stirred up by rough wagons on the dirt road.
Melanie moved to the front door and stepped out onto the porch, where a row of board-and-batten structures faced her. She studied the names over the doors, knowing she ought to familiarize herself with the other businesses in town. Thelivery stable lay directly across the street, next to the blacksmith’s shop and Cedar Ridge Saddlery. To the left of the livery stood the barbershop, and farther to her left, the town’s saloon, the Silver Moon, plied its trade.
She saw nothing in the immediate vicinity that spoke of direct competition for the mercantile. Good. Her mood brightened as she went back inside to continue her survey.
As she moved from one section of merchandise to another, she made mental notes. The first thing they needed to change was to move the patent remedies away from the veterinary supplies—so there would be no repeat of the previous day’s incident with Mrs. Fetterman.
She stopped in front of a set of shelves holding an assortment of men’s shirts, long underwear, and denim work pants. Pairs of heavy boots hung from hooks on the adjacent wall. Melanie pursed her lips as her gaze traveled past the shelves and took in the displays beyond. Work clothes, guns, saddles, and harnesses. Stetson hats, tools, and bags of seed—items aplenty for the men of Cedar Ridge. Practical and utilitarian. But apart from a haphazard selection of fabric, ribbons, and a few ready-made dresses, there was precious little to entice the women of the area to come in and browse. Where were the bonnets, the notions, the array of fripperies that would draw ladies into the store and cause them to linger?
She would speak to Caleb Nelson about ordering some bonnets and lace, and maybe some finer dishes than the heavy crockery sets she saw lined up along a shelf near the counter. That would make a start, at least. And they could set up displays for the finer things in such a way that the women would have to walk past them in order to get back to the canned goods. Her grandparents had done the same thing in theirstore back in Ohio, and she knew from personal experience how effective that type of placement could be.
The back door swung open, and Caleb and Levi Nelson entered the store. After a quick wide-eyed glance at Melanie, Levi ducked under the counter and disappeared. Caleb hung his jacket on a peg near the door, then aimed a stern look toward the counter. “No snowstorms today. No loud battles between your tin soldiers, and don’t bother the customers. Do you understand?”
A muffled voice answered from the space beneath the counter. “Yes, Papa.”
Caleb reached for his storekeeper’s apron hanging by the door. He drew up short when he spotted Melanie, seeming startled by her appearance, as if he’d been hoping yesterday’s altercation had been a bad dream.
Tamping down her irritation, Melanie pasted a bright smile on her face. “Good morning! I’ve been looking around, and I have some ideas I’d like to discuss with you. I believe they’ll make a marked improvement in the store.” Without giving him a chance to object, she launched straight into her plans for making the mercantile more appealing to their customers.
Caleb’s eyes grew wide, and he pushed his hands against the air. “Hold on a minute. What makes you think you know what the customers want?”
Melanie planted her fists on her hips. “I understand what a woman finds
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