The answer was obvious, although subtle. She wasn’t surprised they hadn’t grabbed on to it, because it seemed like a minor step in the grand scheme of things. She turned to Evan, standing beside her, and gave him a confident look she hoped he believed. “What you need is a marketing plan for the beach.”
“The town is the real prob—”
“Not the town. The beach.” She waited. He frowned at her.
They were standing close enough that he could look down at her, really inspect her, and she refused to waiver. She was right here. She was an expert, brought in to know her shit, and on this point, she knew her shit.
His frown deepened as he tried to follow her, but still had doubts. “The beach is apartof the town.”
She lowered her voice. She didn’t need to challenge him. She needed to win him over. “I know you want to rebrand the town. Big, bold, new. I see that. And it’s a great, lofty plan, but it’s not immediately attainable. Let go of that. That isn’t happening for two years at a minimum. Besides, it’s the wrong focus anyway.” She couldn’t help the bit of cheek that slid into her voice. “Small towns aren’t sexy.”
“Hey!” But she had him. His eyes were dancing. This man might love his small town, but he knew he went to the city for real excitement.
“They aren’t. Deal with it. But beaches—people will travel from all over for an unforgettable getaway. Have you heard of The Grotto?”
“Up north? Pine Harbour area?”
“Yeah. Do you know the name of the national park around it?”
Evan screwed up his face. Jess almost crowed, because she had him.
“No,” he finally confessed.
“That’s because that single, Instagram-able part of the park is the selling feature. Marketing is sales, sales is a product. You need a single, Instagram-able product. You know this already for your wine, right? One of your lines probably gets the bulk of your marketing dollars.”
She loved the way Evan swore under his breath. That was hella sexy. The way he nodded was even hotter. “Got it. And for Wardham, our product is…the beach.”
“The beach,” she said firmly. “Sell that, and the rest will follow. Sell that, and people will start their wine tours here instead of down the road. And they’ll stick around all day, check out the shops, restaurants, and bakeries.”
“You’ve sold me. So how do we make the Wardham Municipal Beach sexy?”
This was her favourite part. She grinned. “We re-name it.”
3
After the meeting at the winery, Liam and Evie had to do a loop to pick up all of their kids. Their babies from her mom’s farm, her two older boys from her first marriage who had spent the night at their dad’s. Jess wished them well in their child collection tasks, and headed straight into downtown Wardham.
She pretended it was her first time coming to visit and followed the signs to the municipal parking lot behind the shops on the main drag. It had a maximum of two hours, which barely allowed time for a nice meal, let alone a trip to the beach. So she skipped that lot and went closer to the water, but the parking options there were limited as well.
In the end, she parked on a residential street—not ideal, but according to the sign at the end of the block there was no limit on how long she could stay. Then she strolled down to the beach. Even though it was early in the season and much too cold for swimming, there were still a decent number of people using the public space. A family on bikes, a couple strolling hand in hand.
At the end of the boardwalk, though, she hit pay dirt.
Literally, a lot of dirt. There was a lot for sale on the corner, and past it, the beach devolved from bike paths and boardwalks to giant boulders and a break wall in the distance.
She snapped a quick picture and texted it to Liam.
Jess: What do you think about buying this lot and turning it into an ice cream stand with copious parking?
Liam: This engineer doesn’t know the first thing about ice cream.
She rolled her eyes. So literal.
Jess: I bet you can find someone who does, though. Trust me.
His reply had another number copied on it.
A minute later, that number replied, too.
