“We got another mention in Time Out,” Britt said, showing them the item on her tablet screen. “‘Despite its quirky name, there is something magical about Ooh-La-La, with its irresistible fusion of French country charm, sleek modern design, and local offerings.’”

“I’d change that quirky name if I could,” her mother said. “But it stuck, and we’re stuck with it. I came up with Ooh-La-La back when I was a silly girl.”

“You’re still a silly girl,” said Britt. “You’ll always be a silly girl.”

“Keeps me young. Okay, let’s focus. We need to make sure we have the go-to items. We want people to come in to browse around, and leave with something they can’t live without. The question is, what exactly is that something?”

“I think it’s going to be the glug jug again,” Britt said. “I know it’s nothing new, but they’ve got all those yummy fresh colors.” The pitchers, shaped like stylized swans and fish, made a distinctive gurgling sound when poured. They were last year’s bestseller.

“Did we order enough?” asked Cherisse. “And I’m wondering the same about the Laguiole corkscrews and champagne sabers. Ever since that article came out about genuine Laguiole from France being so much better than the knockoffs, they’ve been selling fast.”

“I think we’re good on cutlery,” Camille said. “The Lena Fretto pottery is going to be a winner, too. No one else carries that. Good job, Mom.”

Having a home-goods shop was both an art and a business. On the one hand, everything had to pencil out—the cost of the item versus the retail value. That was the business part. But on the other hand, each choice was very personal. What did people want to surround themselves with? What did they want to bring into their homes and use or appreciate every day? What did they want to share with their friends? Irish linen tea towels? Baltic crystal champagne flutes? Humble Mason jars that could be converted into birdfeeders?

The right choice meant excitement and profit. It meant happy customers telling their friends about that charming shop in Bethany Bay. It meant better terms from the suppliers. It meant the Adams and Vandermeer women got to feed their families and pay their taxes.

The wrong choice—that surefire hit that turned out to be a miss—meant sidewalk sales, the clearance bin, selling at cost. They tried to avoid being led astray by reps at the gift fairs Cherisse attended, but supply and demand was not an exact science. Occasionally, they got caught with far too many questionable yard ornaments. Even now, the sale rack had last season’s aebleskiver pans, absinthe spoons, asparagus tongs, and the carrot pencil sharpener they were sure no one would be able to resist.

They made some decisions about fall and winter buying, then concluded their meeting with a calendar of events for summer.

“You should do a meet-the-artist evening at the shop with Lisette’s pictures,” Britt suggested to Camille. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.”