“I heard the same thing about the construction boom over there,” Ronnie admitted. “Thanks for offering, but I think I’ll look for something else. I’m tired of scrambling up ladders and scampering around on rooftops.”
“You know how to do anything else?” Butch asked him, his expression skeptical. “I hate to see you walk away from construction. After all the talks we’ve had, I had the feeling you love the work as much as I do.”
“I do,” Ronnie admitted. “But I have an idea that might match up my construction expertise with another business.” He hesitated, then decided to ask for Butch’s input. The man had started Thompson & Thompson on his own forty years ago and turned it into a profitable venture. Maybe he would be willing to offer some start-up advice to Ronnie. “If you’ve got a few minutes, I wouldn’t mind running the idea past you.”
Butch glanced at his watch. “It’s lunchtime. You buying?”
Ronnie grinned. “It’d be a small price to pay for your advice.”
“Not if I decide what appeals to me is a big ole T-bone steak,” Butch said, grinning.
“Anything you want,” Ronnie insisted.
The older man studied him for a minute and shook his head. “Not sure my input is worth that much, but I’ll take the steak, just the same. My wife’s been on some tear about not eating meat. I have to sneak it when she’s not around to catch me. She’s got my daughter spying on me, too.” He shook his head. “Fine thing when a man’s own daughter rats him out to his wife. I should never have brought that girl into the company.”
“Making Terry a partner was the smartest thing you ever did, and you know it,” Ronnie contradicted.
Butch beamed with pride, but he didn’t admit to it.
They went to a place about a mile from the construction site, where the aged beef was served thick and rare and accompanied by a platter piled high with onion rings and a side of French fries. There was probably enough cholesterol in the meal to clog most of a man’s arteries in one sitting.
When they’d placed their orders and the waitress had brought them both sweet tea, Butch leaned back and studied him. “Okay, out with it. You look like you’re about to pop. Just how crazy is this idea of yours?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you’ll tell me,” Ronnie said.
He took his time and tried to organize the thoughts that had been circulating through his brain ever since he’d driven through downtown Serenity for the first time on his return. Seeing the town green surrounded by empty buildings that had once been thriving businesses had saddened him. The old five-and-dime where Dana Sue had once spent her allowance on candy was shuttered, as was the dress shop where his mom had once bought most of her clothes. The barbershop where men used to gather on Saturday mornings had closed when its owner died.
Only Wharton’s remained now, and only because Grace and her husband were stubborn holdouts who did enough business at the soda fountain to support the declining pharmacy sales. Once the superstores had opened less than an hour away, the dress shop, five-and-dime and other family-owned specialty shops had closed one by one. Main Street was no longer the bustling center of town it had been when he and Dana Sue were teenagers. He thought he had a way to help change that.
“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking,” he told Butch. “I want to open a hardware store in Serenity.”
The construction company president stared at him as if he’d announced his intention to open a strip club. No, actually, he suspected Butch would consider a strip club less financially risky.
“Now hear me out,” Ronnie said, before the older man could express his disdain for the idea. “Not just any hardware store. I know there’s not much profit to be made in selling screwdrivers and hammers to residents of a town of four or five thousand people. That’s probably why the old one went out of business.”
“Then why are you even considering a dang-fool idea like this?” Butch demanded.
“Okay, you said it yourself. There’s going to be a lot of development over that way,” he began.
“And it’ll be years before that brings in enough people to make you rich on hammers and screwdrivers,” Butch scoffed.
“I’m not planning to make my money on tools for do-it-yourselfers or ten-pound bags of potting soil for gardeners,” he explained, warming to the idea now that he was finally able to verbalize it to someone who might actually understand the potential. “I’ll cater to them, of course, but I really want to sell to the construction companies doing all that development. If I can provide them better, faster service on their lumber, their insulation, their tools, their nails, whatever, and be right around the corner, instead of an hour or more away like the big box stores, don’t you think they’d choose dealing with me? A lot of this development is west of Serenity. The superstores are way east. I’d be right on the way.”
Butch’s skepticism faded. He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “You think you could match the prices from the big companies?”
“I could come close if I can get enough volume,” Ronnie said confidently. “The thing is, like you said, I know construction. I can anticipate what they’re going to need and when, just by visiting the sites on a regular basis. I won’t have to keep a lot of money tied up in wasted inventory. I can bring it in when it’s needed, then turn it around quickly. Turnaround’s the answer in any business, right?”
“In other words, you’ll offer guaranteed, personalized customer service,” Butch said slowly. “Something we sure as hell don’t see much of these days in any sector.”
“Exactly,” Ronnie said, then sat back.
