Part 4 (2/2)
”Because I'm the one who signed up for the festival, and instead of being Creative Cupcakes' 'stupendous' promotion manager, I'm feeling just plain stupid. Somehow I've got to come up with a way to sell more cupcakes.”
”My brother has a booth at the festival this weekend, too. I used to work for him several years ago at his winery. He says first you need a good product.”
Rachel nodded. ”We have that. Our cupcakes are delicious.”
”By themselves they might be delicious, but how do they taste after people have had several different gla.s.ses of wine?”
”I don't know,” she admitted. ”I never thought about it.”
”Certain flavors of wine bring out a better taste in certain foods. One wine might go better with chocolate, while another might go better with vanilla. The key is to have customers taste the right combination so they'll think it's delicious enough to buy.”
”If we served wine with the cupcakes, we could control what the customers taste before they sample our cupcakes, but all we have is cake.”
”If I talk to my brother, he might be willing to sell some of his wine at your booth. Then you would have the right flavors, and he would have wine to sell in two locations.”
”It's all about creative networking,” she said, her heart beating faster. ”Maybe Creative Cupcakes has a chance after all.”
Mike shot her a sideways glance. ”How are you serving the cupcakes?”
”On a napkin or small paper plate.”
”What if you served them on something else, something unique? Something that ties in with the festival?”
”Like a . . . a winegla.s.s?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Rachel sat up straighter and took a deep breath. ”We could serve them in a winegla.s.s with a plastic spoon. But where would we get the gla.s.ses?”
”You could buy cheap plastic ones from the store, but a real gla.s.s would give the people a souvenir to take home, and they'd be willing to pay more for it. My brother and I used to buy from a gla.s.sblower on Commercial Street who sells winegla.s.ses. You could ask if she'd be willing to cut you a deal if you buy in bulk.”
Rachel slumped. ”Put out more money?”
”What if you bring back what you don't sell? The gla.s.s shop owner might even want to come to the festival with you. You could sell your cupcakes, and she could sell the gla.s.ses to put them in. Except I'm not sure if people would want to carry the gla.s.ses around all day. Do you have a bag or something they could use to carry the gla.s.s home?”
”I saw a couple of people wearing a triangular fabric winegla.s.s holder tied around their neck with a ribbon. The stem of the gla.s.s goes through a hole, and the cup part of the gla.s.s hangs in the material like a sling, allowing the customers to keep their hands free.”
”Could you buy them from one of the other vendors?” he suggested.
”They are so simple that Andi, Kim, and I could make them.”
”Do you know how to sew?”
Rachel laughed. ”I do!”
She'd had to mend many of her own clothes in the past when her best outfits got a hole and she couldn't afford to buy new. Her mother had an old Singer sewing machine handed down to her from her mother.
”This is a great idea,” Rachel said. ”Thanks, Mike. You really are magnificent.”
”You came up with most of the 'stupendous' ideas,” he told her, his voice filled with amus.e.m.e.nt.
”But you helped me think.”
”Sometimes two minds are better than one.”
Or two hearts.
Mike parked his car in front of her house, turned off the engine, and opened his door to get out.
”What are you doing?” Rachel called over to him as she gathered her purse.
”Opening the door for you,” he said coming around to her side, ”and walking you up to the house.”
No one had opened a car door for her in a long time. In fact, she couldn't ever remember a guy opening a car door for her. These days a gesture like that was seen only in movies.
He took her hand, and she smiled at him. ”Thank you again for driving me home. I don't know what I would have done if the bus driver was a cranky old man who left me out at Fort Stevens overnight.”
”You would have survived. It's very warm for the end of April, and I think you're a survivor, Rachel.”
She stared into his eyes, stunned by his insight. She was a survivor. All her life she'd had to do what she needed to make ends meet, make friends, and continue on.
”I'll see you Wednesday night at six for our dinner date?” she asked.
His mouth curved into a grin. ”What if I pick you up earlier, and we go back out toward Fort Stevens to spend the day at the beach?”
Rachel laughed. ”Perfect. If we happen to get lost, at least I won't be alone.”
Chapter Five.
Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.
Helen Keller INSTEAD OF GOING to bed that night, Rachel searched for her mother's sewing machine.
”I think it's in the back of the hall closet,” her mom said, tapping her ceramic tea mug with her finger. ”There might be some leftover fabric in there, too. Do you remember the floral print I used to make your Easter dress a few years ago?”
”Yes,” Rachel exclaimed, her excitement erasing the sluggishness from her tired head. ”The one with the pink-and-purple grape leaf design? I loved that dress. I wish it hadn't faded.”
”You got quite a bit of wear out of that one.” A brief flicker of a smile lit her mother's face but disappeared with a quick glance at the clock. ”Wish I could stay up and help you, but you know-”
”You have work tomorrow,” Rachel finished. ”I know.”
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