“I might. You’re a regular Francis of Assisi with the animals around here.”
Charley chuckled and clapped the priest on the back. “I’ll take that as the highest of compliments. See you all on Wednesday.”
As he strolled out, the others said their goodbyes and followed suit until only she and Greg remained.
“If you and Rachel have plans for the rest of the afternoon, we could do this tomorrow.” Marci joined Greg at the far end of the table, where he’d chosen to sit.
“No. We don’t have anything special on the agenda for tonight.”
Too bad.
“In that case . . .” She pulled out the chair beside him and sat. “I was intrigued by the concept you mentioned at the town meeting about making the lighthouse pay for itself in the long run. I like the idea of turning it into a special events venue—for weddings in particular. What could be more romantic than getting married at a lighthouse?”
“Rachel liked that idea too.”
“There you go. Great minds think alike.” She winked at him. “Have you given any additional thought as to how we might implement that?”
“Yes.” He opened the folder in front of him, which contained several typed pages clipped together and what appeared to be quite a bit of backup information. “I was going to give you this after the meeting. It’s not as urgent as the other items we discussed.”
“It’s all part of the larger plan, though. I’ll be happy to take that and review it later, but why don’t you give me a verbal summary?”
“Sure.”
For the next ten minutes, she listened without saying a word as Greg walked her through his well-thought-out suggestions about how to generate income on the lighthouse grounds—tours, art fairs, concerts, weddings, rehearsal dinners, family reunion events, corporate functions, bus-tour stop, gift shop . . . the list went on.
And every single item had merit.
Based on a quick flip through the detailed document he handed her at the end, he’d also put together a polished business plan supported with abundant documentation.
After scanning his proposals and the backup data, she looked over at him. “This is impressive. Do you have a business background?”
“No. I only went to junior college. I don’t have a degree.”
She set the material in front of her. “Business aptitude can be fostered in many ways. Tell me about your work history.”
“I was in the army.”
“I know—and that suggests you have discipline and drive. What else have you done?”
“You mean . . . like part-time jobs during school?”
“Yes.” The idea beginning to percolate in her mind might not fly—but it was worth exploring. While Greg might not have a degree, practical business experience could be just as valuable.
He ran a finger down the crease of the manila folder. “I didn’t have a conventional part-time job.”
“I’d like to hear about it anyway.”
“Well . . . when I was fifteen, I wanted some spending money. I was too young to get a real job like my brother, so I put together a ninety-minute walking tour of the town for tourists.”
Enterprising.
“How did you line up customers?”
“I made signs to put up around town—at Sweet Dreams, the Gull Motel, the Myrtle Café . . . any place tourists hung out. Charley put one on his stand too. I usually had about ten people show up.”
“How often did you run the tour?”
“Once a day the first year. At ten bucks a head, I made pretty good money.”
A hundred dollars a day for ninety minutes of work?
That was way better than pretty good for a fifteen-year-old.
“I also solicited coupons from businesses around town.” Greg doodled on the folder in front of him, a slight smile curving his lips, as if the memories of his youthful enterprise were sweet. “So tourists got coupons worth more than the price of the tour—which helped promote sales.”
Clever.
The idea she was noodling on began to send down some roots.
“You mentioned the first year. I take it you did this for a while?”
“Yeah. The second year I ran two tours a day.”
A sixteen-year-old who racked up two hundred dollars a day for three hours of work, doing a summer job he’d created.
Amazing.
And intriguing.
“How did you find enough to talk about for an hour and a half?” Much as she loved Hope Harbor, as far as she knew there weren’t enough landmarks to fill out a ninety-minute walking tour.
His eyebrows rose. “This town has some cool history. I found lots of stories after I dug into the research. In my spiel, I highlighted some of the historical characters who lived here—a sea captain, a woman who ran a logging operation, the town doctor who relocated here in 1917 after losing his son in the coyote war.”
“Coyote war?” Where had Greg dug up that obscure bit of history?
“Yeah. There was a bizarre rabies epidemic in eastern Oregon for a number of years. I found loads of stuff like that. More than I needed to create a script for every stop on the tour. And I talked about Pelican Point light too.”
“How long did you run these tours?”
“Until I went to junior college. The third and fourth year, I hired a buddy who did high school theater to help with extra tours. I wanted to keep the group size small, and the demand kept growing after the paper in Bandon did a story about me. We had people coming from all over the area for tours.”
“Why did you stop doing them?”
He shrugged. “I never intended it to be a career. My dad was a firefighter, and my brother is too. That’s all I ever wanted to be. It was a family tradition.”
“But you enjoyed doing the tours, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. It was fun. Not like work at all.”
“Those are the best kinds of jobs.”
“Depends on your perspective, I guess. For me, the best kinds are the ones that make a difference in the world. Like being a soldier who fights terrorism, or a firefighter who saves lives.”
“Creating happy memories for people can make a difference too. You gave visitors a pleasant experience to remember.
