See You at Sunset by V. K. Sykes

they might even end up getting their beer, wine, and groceries there too.”
    “Huh,” Lily said. “So you’re thinking about focusing on tourists? That would be a sea change.”
    “I know,” Holly said. “I can’t deny there would be some risk.”
    “I can see your point though. There definitely are going to be a lot more tourists, and most of them should be pretty well-off.”
    “Exactly. Take souvenirs and gifts. There’s not much worth buying on the island right now, so tourists do that kind of shopping on the mainland. What if we were to start sourcing and selling some quality goods by Maine artisans? God knows there are enough of them.”
    The idea had formed when Holly thought about the local Blueberry Festival. Every year at that event, a couple of dozen artists and craftspeople—almost all from off the island—set up tents and booths for the weekend. They produced and sold quality goods ranging from paintings and photography to jewelry, glass, leather, and woodworking. Those artisans always did a brisk trade at the festival, and most came back year after year. What if her aunts made their goods available in the store all year long? It could become a real showcase for artists and artisans from around the state.
    “It sounds good, as long as Florence and Beatrice could source and manage that kind of inventory,” Morgan said. Her expression, however, registered doubt.
    Holly had been thinking about that. “I’ll help them as much as I can when I’m here, and I could do some work remotely too. And don’t forget how shrewd Florence has always been in dealing with suppliers.”
    “What are you thinking of getting rid of so you’ll have room?” Lily asked.
    Holly had a tentative list in her head. “The gas pump has to go, for starters, though that’s not a question of space. It should go because it’s a relic and an eyesore, and there’s not that much profit in it. Night Owl is going to take most of that business anyway.”
    “All true,” Morgan said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt like kicking the hell out of that cranky old pump. I swear it’s older than I am.”
    “Ha! It’s probably as old as Gramps,” Lily scoffed.
    Holly didn’t think she was exaggerating by much. “That horrific DVD collection has to go too. And the T-shirts.”
    “Not the T-shirts!” Lily protested.
    “Stay with me, sweetie,” Holly said, patting her hand. “As for groceries, I’m going to suggest cutting back to not much more than half the floor space. We should continue to carry most of the basics but stock only a couple of bestselling brands of each product.”
    “I bet some of the regulars will be pissed off that they can’t buy their favorite brand of detergent,” Morgan said.
    “They’ll get over it. In truth, they probably buy most of that stuff in Portland at Hannaford’s or Costco anyway. Our store should mainly be for people who run out or who don’t want to shop in the city on any given day. People like that can’t expect to have a full range of brands. We’re not a supermarket.”
    “Logic, I like it,” Morgan said. “But people on Seashell Bay get pretty emotional about this sort of thing. As much as I hate to admit it, we are pretty resistant to change.”
    “Time to get with the program, buttercup. It’s that or the store goes belly-up,” Holly said. “I’d like to put in a deli bar too, with a focus on high-quality meats and cheeses and fresh sandwiches. And I’m even thinking about a commercial espresso machine.”
    “Seriously?” Morgan said.
    “Sure. You can’t get a good cup of coffee on this island. A lot of tourists and day-trippers go into withdrawal when they can’t get their daily latte or macchiato. It could be a real win for us.”
    “That’s going to change, because they’ll be able to get good coffee at the resort,” Lily said, sounding apologetic. “The restaurant will have an espresso machine. Aiden and I figured people would go crazy