Part 1 (2/2)

Going out for a meal or a movie, even a shopping trip, was the obvious cure for cabin fever, but it wasn't easy. It took a lot of determination to get anywhere. First you had to layer on all those clothes, then you had to shovel your way to the car, which might or might not start. Once you were on the road, you had to be constantly vigilant, watching for slick spots and creeping slowly through intersections made blind by enormous piles of snow, and you had to remember to start braking well in advance of every stop sign. Once you reached your destination, you had to hunt for a plowed parking spot and then you had to watch your step when you got out of the car because the sidewalks, even when shoveled, soon became slick with ice.

None of that seemed to bother Corney, who was listing the advantages of winter. ”Sleigh rides in the snowy woods,” she said, prompting a snort from Phyllis.

”Endless shoveling,” complained Ted. ”Heart attacks-did you see the obits last week? Three old guys, in one week.”

Corney ignored him. ”We have all these romantic B&Bs with canopy beds and fireplaces... .”

”Fireplaces are awful messy. Wood chips, twigs, even leaves, and then there's the ashes. Filthy,” said Phyllis. ”And that stuff jams up the vacuum.”

”Hot toddies and cocoa with tiny marshmallows,” said Corney, as if she were raising the stakes in a poker game.

”The stink of wet wool,” countered Lucy.

”Tree branches coated in ice, sparkling in the sun,” said Corney, laying down a few more chips.

”Broken bones from falls on the icy sidewalks,” said Ted. ”The waiting time at the emergency room last week was three hours.”

”We need to let the world know that Maine doesn't shut down in winter,” declared Corney, ready to show her hand.

”It doesn't?” Lucy was skeptical.

”We have so much to offer,” insisted Corney.

”Cabin fever. She's been cooped up too long and now she's hallucinating,” said Ted.

”I'm sure that's it,” said Lucy, laughing.

”Have your fun,” said Corney, slipping off her fur-trimmed hood and giving her short, frosted blond hair a shake. ”Let's face it: the economy sucks. Businesses are going bankrupt, people are losing their jobs, even their houses. Things are bad.”

It was true, thought Lucy. Bill, a restoration carpenter, hadn't had a big job in over a year. He was making do, barely, with window replacements and repairs. Her oldest, her son, Toby, who was married and the father of little Patrick, now almost three, had become disillusioned with his prospects as a lobsterman and had taken out student loans to finish up the business degree he had abandoned. Even her oldest daughter, Elizabeth, who had landed a dream job with the Cavendish Hotel chain after graduating from college, was worried about looming layoffs.

”We have to do whatever we can to attract customers and get things rolling again,” said Corney, ”and that's what the Love Is Best on the Coast Valentine's Day promotion is designed to do.” She smiled, as if explaining basic arithmetic to first graders. ”Who cares if it's cold outside? That's better for business. The tourists will have nothing to do except shop and eat and drink. They'll have to spend money.”

Ted was scratching his chin. ”So what do you want? I can't write about Fern's Famous losing, they're one of my biggest advertisers.”

”They didn't lose,” said Corney, who always saw the gla.s.s as half full. ”They came in second, just a hair behind Chanticleer. We have the two best candy shops in Maine right here in Tinker's Cove!”

”I suppose Lucy could do something with that,” speculated Ted. ”She can be pretty tactful, when she tries.”

Lucy gave Ted a look. ”Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

”I know Lucy will do a great job.” Corney turned her big blue eyes on Lucy. ”You're going to love Trey Meacham. He's a fascinating guy, and a real visionary. Chanticleer Chocolate typifies the kind of success an enterprising entrepreneur can have in Maine. We're becoming a lot more sophisticated, it's not about whirligigs and fudge anymore. We have top-notch craftsmen and artists making beautiful things-oil paintings and handwoven shawls and burl bowls. And the local food movement is the next big thing: fudge and lobster rolls are great, but there are small breweries, artisa.n.a.l bakeries, and farmers' markets with hydroponically grown vegetables, free-range chickens, gra.s.s-fed beef, all raised locally. That's the market that Trey has captured. His chocolates are very sophisticated, very unusual.”

Phyllis raised one of the thin penciled lines that served as eyebrows. ”I like fudge myself. With walnuts.”

”I have absolutely nothing against fudge, especially Fern's Famous Fudge. This is a win-win situation. Two terrific candy shops. The old and the new. Something for everyone.” Corney paused. ”And believe me, Lucy, you're going to love Trey.”

”I'm married,” said Lucy. ”I have four kids. I'm a grandma.” She paused. ”A young grandma.”

”You're not blind, are you?”

Lucy laughed. ”Not yet.”

”Well, Trey is very easy on the eyes, and he's got an interesting story. He left a successful business career, got disillusioned with corporate life, and decided to break out on his own. It's been a little more than a year and he's already got several shops in prime spots on the coast. He's a marketing genius. In fact, the Valentine's Day promotion was his idea. He says all the merchants in town need to work together to attract business. Compet.i.tion is out; cooperation is in. A rising tide raises all s.h.i.+ps.”

”Okay, you win,” said Ted, holding his hands up in surrender. ”I'm thinking we can maybe do a special advertising promo, a double spread, maybe even an entire special section, if there's enough interest.”

”Now you're talking,” said Corney. ”The Chamber's going to have colorful cupid flags for partic.i.p.ating businesses, radio spots; we're hoping for some TV coverage. I've got an appointment at NECN with the producer of This Week in New England.”

”Sounds good,” said Ted. ”Keep us posted.”

”You know I will,” said Corney, flas.h.i.+ng a grin. With a wave, she was gone, leaving the door ajar, swinging in the wind.

Phyllis heaved herself to her feet with a big sigh and went around the reception counter, shaking her head as she struggled to shut the door. ”You've got to get this door fixed, Ted, before I catch my death of cold.”

”I know a terrific carpenter,” said Lucy.

”Cash flow's a problem,” said Ted. ”Can we work out a barter deal?”

Lucy was intrigued; Bill had a lot of time on his hands these days. ”What do you have in mind?”

”I have an old guitar... .”

”Absolutely not.”

Ted was making a mental inventory of his possessions. ”A typewriter?”

”Donate it to a museum,” said Lucy, laughing.

”A frozen turkey? We didn't eat it at Christmas.”

Lucy was tempted. ”It's a start.”

”I'm pretty sure Pam's got all the fixings: stuffing, cranberry sauce, canned yams.”

”Throw in a bag of frozen shrimp and you've got a deal,” said Lucy.

”You're a tough woman, Lucy.”

”I've got hungry kids at home.”

”How soon can we do this?” asked Phyllis, as a gust of wind rattled the door in its frame.

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