The Preacher's Bride (Brides of Simpson Creek) by Laurie Kingery

Author:Laurie Kingery [Kingery, Laurie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Love Inspired
Published: 2012-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“Mr. Merriwell, I run the only mercantile in Simpson Creek. When the townsfolk need dry goods or what have you, where else are they going to go? Why would I need to do more advertising? I really only advertise now and then to support our local newspaper. I’m a widow, you see, and not wealthy,” Mrs. Patterson said, when Yancey tried to persuade her to buy a larger advertisement in the Simpson Creek Chronicle.

“I understand, ma’am,” he responded smoothly, “but have you considered that by placing one item—any item you choose, ma’am, perhaps something that’s been slow to move off your shelves—at a special sale price, you encourage your customers to come in to buy that item while they may do so inexpensively. Once inside your door, they may well impulsively buy other things. The result is increased profit for you,” Yancey Merriwell concluded convincingly, giving the proprietress the full force of his winning smile.

“I don’t know...” Mrs. Patterson murmured, and glanced at Faith as if seeking direction.

Faith only smiled. Merriwell would need to make this sale entirely on his own, if he could.

“Mrs. Patterson, I admit I’m a newcomer,” Yancey admitted, “but I’m told Simpson Creek is growing. Some day you may not own the only mercantile. And when that day comes, you want to be sure that your store owns the loyalty of the townspeople of Simpson Creek. You can do that by regular advertising, which keeps your store prominent in the townspeople’s minds, and by constantly reminding them of merchandise you sell which they might need.”

“Another mercantile in Simpson Creek? Just let them try to open one!” Mrs. Patterson exclaimed, and promptly bought a large advertisement to be placed on the front page of the next edition, with yellow gingham fabric being featured as the sale item. What was more, she agreed to place an advertisement every week for the next two months, with a promise to buy more if Mr. Merriwell’s strategy worked.

“I do believe you could sell ice at the North Pole, Mr. Merriwell,” Faith remarked as they left the store, chagrinned because she had never been able to persuade the shopkeeper to buy more than the most minuscule advertisement on the back page. Her father would no doubt be even more pleased than ever with his new employee when he heard the news.

She watched for any sign of smugness, but Merriwell only looked pleased by the compliment. “Please, call me Yancey, Miss Faith,” he said. “I’m just trying to prove to your father he did the right thing by hiring me,” he said with a modest shrug of his shoulders.

Oh, he’s already persuaded of that, Faith thought, remembering the way her father had beamed at the Georgian over supper last night. She admitted to herself that it hurt to think of the way her father and Merriwell had talked nonstop in the parlor last night after dinner, making plans for new features in the newspaper. Faith and her mother might as well have not even been present.

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