by Marie Force
“My father’s not-so-secret shame. He’s obsessed with all things Beatles. He has one of the most extensive collections in the country.” He pointed to a frame that held parchment bearing scrawling black handwriting. “See that? It’s a replica of John Lennon’s lyrics for ‘All You Need Is Love.’ The original sold for $1.25 million in 2005. He couldn’t afford that so my mom got him the copy.”
“I love that song. It’s one of my favorite Beatles songs.”
“Mine, too, although if I never hear another Beatles song, it’ll be too soon.”
“You don’t like them?”
“It’s not that I don’t like them. It’s that I was overexposed growing up. When I say my dad is obsessed, that’s putting it lightly. He would’ve named Hunter, me, Wade and Colton after the Beatles, but my mother intervened. She said when he could have the babies, he could name one of them Ringo. He fought hard for John, Paul and George as well as Jude and Prudence, but she fought back harder.”
“So you would’ve been Paul?” Cameron asked, amused.
“Or John, I suppose. Dad goes back and forth between the two of them when you ask him which one is his favorite. He took John’s death really hard. My mom said he wasn’t himself for months afterward.”
A gorgeous yellow lab came bounding up to them and nearly knocked Cameron off her feet with an enthusiastic greeting.
Once again, Will grabbed her arm and kept her from toppling over.
“That crash was not on me,” she said, making him laugh.
Will bent to scratch the dog behind one of his ears. “Cameron, meet Ringo the third.”
Cameron busted up laughing, which made her face hurt like a mother. “If you can’t name your kids after the Beatles . . .”
“Right. He’s had two of each, and now we’re into the third generation. George the third is probably with Dad in the office. This fella comes in every morning for a donut from Dottie. Go get your treat, buddy.”
Ringo bounded off toward Dottie’s counter, nearly knocking over a stack of sweaters with his bushy tail.
“I’ve got two just like him at home, and their tails are every bit as lethal as Ringo’s.”
Oh my God, all this sexy goodness, and he has dogs, too. Cameron had always loved dogs and still mourned Jimmy, the terrier who’d been her constant companion as a child. She kept meaning to get another one, but losing Jimmy had been so traumatic she hadn’t yet been able to go there. “Ringo is adorable, and he understands English, just like Lassie did.”
“Now there’s a TV reference even I recognize. ‘What’s that you say, girl? Timmy is stuck in the old mine and we need to go rescue him?’”
Cameron didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to share a warm smile with him. She didn’t want anything to do with his sweet gruffness or his adorable sexiness. This was a temporary assignment in a place so far from her reality it was hard to believe it was still in the same country. There was absolutely no point in allowing herself to be attracted to Will Abbott, who lived in the alternative universe known as Vermont.
As she had that thought, her girl parts tingled in protest.
“Hey, Will,” Dottie called from the donut counter, saving Cameron from having to admit that, despite all the reasons it was a very bad idea, she was, in fact, attracted to Will Abbott.
“Over here,” he said.
“Your dad is looking for you upstairs.”
Will checked his watch. “Yikes, it’s almost ten.” To Dottie, he said, “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Cameron had never known a half hour to pass more quickly and suddenly felt panicky about the challenge ahead. “I need to set up for my presentation. Can you show me where to go?”
“Right this way.”
As he led her deeper into the store, Cameron tried not to notice that the back of him was every bit as spectacular as the front. Softly faded jeans hugged a very nice ass, not that she was looking.
Much.
Desperate to find something else to stare at, she diverted her gaze and honed in on a display of colorful beaded jewelry. She stopped for a closer look at the intricately made bracelets, necklaces and earrings.
“That’s my sister Hannah’s handiwork,” Will said.
“It’s beautiful.” Cameron could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke of his sister. Naturally, that made her like him even more. Where in the world had her cranky rescuer from the night before gone?
The presentation she was about to give would remind him she was an interloper from the city, here to threaten his way of life. That ought to get them back on track toward being absolutely nothing to each other.
Or so she hoped.
CHAPTER 3
She’s as jumpy as a cockroach in a frying pan.
—The gospel according to Elmer Stillman
Angry voices greeted them at the top of the stairs.
Seeming embarrassed by what they’d walked in on, Will said, “Give us a minute. We’ll be right with you.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“You can have a seat in my office.” He flipped on the lights for her. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks.”
Cameron stepped into the room that smelled like him—outdoorsy, fresh air, pine trees and citrus. Because he’d told her to make herself comfortable, she sat at his desk and pulled her laptop from the computer bag. While it booted up, she took advantage of the opportunity to do some high-level snooping.
The first thing she noticed were the shelves laden with trophies. With a peek at the door to ensure no one was watching, she stood to read the placards. He’d won snowboarding championships in seven consecutive years. “Wow.” Mixed in with the trophies were certificates and medals and other awards from what had obviously been a rather illustrious career.
His degree in business administration from the University of Vermont hung on the wall next to a picture of him with two other guys in ski attire. Judging from their coloring, she decided they might be his brothers.
Under that was a framed portrait of what had to be the full Abbott family, looking like they’d just stepped out of an L.L.Bean catalog. Every one of them was attractive in a wholesome all-American way. Their parents sat in Adirondack chairs in the front row with their ten gorgeous children standing around them.
What a beautiful family, Cameron thought with a pang of envy. She couldn’t begin to know what it must be like to be part of such a family. While trying to ignore the raised voices coming from another room in the office suite, she sat to go over the PowerPoint presentation she and Lucy had labored over last week.
They’d gone into the preparation knowing little about the store itself, so they’d used images and samples from other country store websites to show the Abbotts what might be possible for their site.
As she clicked through slides she’d already memorized, Cameron realized her hands were trembling ever so slightly—and that the shouting down the hall had dwindled to a low murmur of voices. They were talking about her in there. Arguing over whether to allow her to make the presentation.
With so much riding on landing this account, Cameron hoped they’d at least hear her out.
Twenty minutes after he’d left her, Will appeared at the door. At first glance, he seemed stiff and maybe a bit peeved. And then she was peeved at herself for thinking she knew him well enough to judge his moods.
“You can come in now,” he said. “Nolan dropped off your projector. Do you need anything else?”
“No, I should be good.”
“You can leave your coat and anything else you don’t need in here. It’ll be safe.”
“Okay.”
Even though she knew he and his siblings didn’t want her here, it was comforting to go into the conference room with a partial ally in him. After the time they’d spent together in the store, at least she knew his animosity toward her wasn’t personal.
This was about business and business only, and she’d do well to remember that.
When she w
alked into the conference room ahead of Will, an older man jumped up to greet her. “Cameron. I’m Lincoln Abbott.”
She recognized Will’s dad from the photo in his office. Tall like Will, he had snow-white hair and twinkling blue eyes that drew her right in. He wore a starched light-blue button-down oxford shirt with khakis.
“It’s so nice to see you,” he said. “I met you once many years ago in New York with your dad, but you probably don’t remember because you were just a little girl at the time.”
She shook Lincoln Abbott’s outstretched hand. “I’m sorry I don’t remember, but it’s nice to meet you again. Thanks for having me.”
“My pleasure. Heard about the accident last night. I hope you’re feeling okay.”
“My pride is bruised along with my face, but Will was a tremendous help. I appreciated him coming to my rescue.”
“That’s my boy. He’s a helper, that one.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she caught her rescuer blushing. How cute was he?
“Let me introduce you to my kids—well, some of them anyway. This is Ella, Charlotte, Wade and Hunter.” They sat around the conference room table wearing flannel, wool sweaters and jeans, except for Hunter who had on a white dress shirt.
Wade and Charlotte shared Will’s lighter coloring, but Ella and Hunter had much darker hair and eyes. They all said hello and attempted friendly smiles, but the tension in the room was palpable.
“Nice to meet you all. I just need a minute to set up my projector.”
“Need any help?” Will asked.
“Sure, that’d be great.” She showed him where to put the projector on the table and went through the motions of hooking up her laptop as her hands continued to tremble ever so slightly.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said softly and for her ears only as the others conversed while they waited on her. “We’ve never actually eaten anyone. We’ve just acted like we were going to.”
“Good to know. Thanks for the heads-up.”
There was that lethal smile again, but this time it actually calmed her nerves. She appreciated his effort to put her at ease. “Our issue is with him, not you. So don’t worry. Whenever you’re ready.”
Will took a seat next to Hunter, and all eyes turned to her.
Cameron clasped her trembling hands together and tried to forget about how hideous her face looked. “I want to thank you for your time today, and I apologize for my banged-up appearance. I went ten rounds with Fred last night, and I think I put a hurt on him even if his bruises don’t show.”
Their chuckles defused some of the tension in the room and helped her to ease into her zone, as Lucy called it. Cameron was good at selling their business to prospective clients, and she tapped into those skills now for the pitch of her life.
“I know from talking to Will last night that some of you feel the store doesn’t need a website. I respect that opinion and the reasons behind it. You have a lovely small business here, and the website opens it up to the world in a way that might change things—and maybe not entirely for the better.”
Ella and Hunter nodded in agreement while Charlotte and Wade remained expressionless.
Cameron had to force herself to not let her gaze wander to Will, fearing she might be distracted if she looked at him.
“Before we talk about your business, let me tell you a little bit about mine. I founded Creative Web Solutions five years ago with my best friend, Lucy Mulvaney.” Cameron clicked on the slide that revealed Lucy’s impish face and corkscrew red curls. You couldn’t be in her presence for long without smiling, and a quick look around the room told Cameron that Lucy’s picture had softened up the Abbotts. “She’s as fun as she looks, and she’s a whiz with Photoshop and the other programs we use to build websites.”
Cameron introduced them to Lydia, who kept the books, and several of the junior programmers who might lose their jobs if she didn’t land this account. With them in mind, she forced herself to press forward with the presentation, even if most of the people in the room didn’t want to hear it.
She flipped through a variety of slides containing examples of sites they’d done for other clients, focusing on retail clients. That none of their previous retail clients had come close to the size or scope of the Green Mountain Country Store was a fact she chose not to share.
“Since you don’t already have a web presence, we took some bits and pieces from other country store websites to give you an idea of what we might be able to do for yours.” Cameron walked them through the various sections of a basic website, detailing the “About” section that would highlight the family’s story and the store’s history. Another section would detail the various hard-to-find products and items unique to Vermont.
“After spending some time in the store this morning, I believe you have a compelling story to tell. Your Vermont Made line, for instance, could make up an entire section on the site that could be used to promote local artisans and farmers and craftspeople who contribute items to the store.”
She finally allowed herself to look at Will and found him watching her intently, as if hanging on her every word. Her skin prickled with awareness of him that she could ill afford at the moment.
Clearing her throat, she zeroed in on Charlotte. “I understand your sister Hannah makes the beautiful jewelry I saw in the store this morning.”
Charlotte nodded in agreement. “She’s incredibly talented.”
“Imagine if you could give her worldwide exposure. Her business could grow as a result of your business growing. And then there’s Colton, who runs the family’s sugaring facility. I’m told there’s nothing quite like Vermont maple syrup. What if we made it possible for your syrup to be sold to customers in Nevada and Wyoming and Paris and Rome? The website would open up your family’s business outside the state of Vermont. In these tough times, people yearn for home and hearth and comfort. Your store offers all those things and so much more.”
Cameron turned to Mr. Abbott, who positively beamed as he listened to her. “I understand you’re a big Beatles fan.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Hunter muttered to laughter from his siblings.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to feature your collection on the website? It would be another reason for people to come into the store.”
“I’m very proud of that collection,” Lincoln said. “I’ve spent a lot of time cultivating it over the years, and I love to show it off.”
Cameron returned his warm smile. “I’d venture to bet very few people leave your store without finding something they can’t live without. Using the story behind the family that runs the store and things like the Beatles collection as a draw gets them in the door. Once they’re here, they’ll spend their money. How can they not with all the inspiration you’ve provided them?
“I’m sure there are tons of other stories to be told, such as your son’s Christmas tree farm. People are interested in things that are different from what they experience in their everyday lives. How many families have a son who runs a Christmas tree farm and another who runs a sugaring operation? How many families have ten siblings, most of them contributing in some meaningful way to a business that’s been in the same family for three generations?”
Watching Wade and Ella exchange glances, Cameron couldn’t tell if she was turning them onto the idea or turning them off.
“Did you tell her about Gramps?” Hunter asked Will.
“Nope.” To Cameron, Will said, “There’s a story and a half. Our mom’s grandfather, Elmer Stillman, Sr., founded the store during World War II. His son, Elmer Junior and his wife, Sarah, my mom’s parents, took the helm when his parents retired. Elmer Junior turned the store over to my dad about twenty years or so ago now and still lives in the area. He’s what you might call a character.”
“I’d love to meet him and talk to him about the store and his memories of the war years. That would make for some very compelling copy for the site.”
“How would you go ab
out building the site?” Charlotte asked.
“That’s a great question.” And Cameron took it as a sign that she’d sparked their interest, at the very least. “The first thing we do is research—lots and lots of research. I’d work with each of you in your various capacities to determine priorities and products you most wish to feature. You’re selling a way of life here—simpler, calmer, refined in its own unique way. That’s your brand. From all my reading about Vermont and the Northeast Kingdom in particular, I assume conservation and geotourism is important to you, and we’d want to reflect that in the site as well. So research comes first.
“Then we progress into site maps and what we call ‘wireframes,’ which is basically a drawing of the site and how it will look when it’s finished. I could bore you with terms such as bread crumbs, which is what we call the various links between pages, and design stages, but suffice to say that once we know what you want and need, we’ll do our very best to give it to you as quickly and as efficiently as we possibly can.”
“How much will it set us back?” Hunter asked.
Cameron passed out a quote she and Lucy had put together with the specifics of a two-phase project. Included prominently on the page was the down-payment amount required to start the process.
“For a site of this size that includes a retail function, you’re looking at well into six figures for phase one, which is the primary bones of the website,” she explained. “I’d have to spend significantly more time on the research and get a sense from all of you about what items you wish to sell directly from the site before I could give you a final quote on phase two, the retail portion.”
“Six figures,” Hunter repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “To start with?”
Cameron forced herself to press on, even though the vibe in the room told her she’d lost most of them with the words six figures.
“A site of this magnitude will involve significant customization and programming that will require a tremendous commitment of work-force hours. When it’s done, you’ll have something you can be proud of. I promise you that. I’ll also promise you’ll earn back your investment within three months of going live if you build in an e-commerce component to sell merchandise from the store via the website. I don’t usually like to give return-on-investment estimates to prospective clients, but I feel very comfortable offering you assurances on that based on what I’ve seen of the store so far.” Cameron swallowed her anxiety and forced herself to finish. “We’d require a deposit of fifty thousand to begin work.”