“You would, except you look good in the old sweats. It’s a wash.” She cut two generous slices of cake marbled brown and gold. “Plus, I brought cake. And I’m willing to gossip if you have any questions about Poole’s Bay. Trey’s more discreet.”
“I’ll take you up on that when I’ve met more people. I did meet John Dee.”
“A hunky sweetheart, and his husband’s adorable. Kevin owns and runs the shop where I sell my pottery. Or the shop in Poole’s Bay where I sell some of it.”
“You’re a potter?”
When the water boiled, Anna poured it over the tea bags in two cups. “I am. It started out as a hobby, and grew. How’s the cake?”
“You could be a baker.”
“Baking’s a thinking-time thing for me, or a relaxing thing. But it’s damn good cake. I don’t know anything about what you do. Graphic art, graphic design. So I checked out your website. It’s impressive.”
“It better be, or I’d be out of work.”
“You worked for a company before.”
“In Boston, yes. I’ve been freelancing a few months.”
“It’s a little scary, having your own business. I admit I’ve got a cushion. Seth’s family owns the Bayside Hotel. Small but classy,” she added. “We’re not Bar Harbor here, but we do get tourists. Nevertheless, it’s still a little scary trying to have my own business.”
She sipped some tea. “After I saw your website … I have another reason for coming by. I wonder if you’d take on another client.”
“You?”
“My website is … It’s just not good. I know if I had a stronger website, I could build a stronger internet presence, build up online orders. As it is, I’m lucky if I sell one or two pieces a month.”
Sonya took her phone out of her pocket. “Plug it in.”
“Oh, it’s going to be even less than not good on a phone.”
“If you want traffic, your site has to work well on mobile devices.”
Anna’s shoulders hunched, then fell. “And it doesn’t.”
“I’m set up in the library.”
“Oh, good choice.”
“Let’s go take a look.”
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“I had cake. I need clients. And I really hate when a website’s not good.”
“I think you’ll probably have to start from scratch.” Anna pushed up as Sonya did.
“We’ll see, but that’s probably what you’re going to want anyway. Fresh start, fresh look. Is the business on social media?”
“Sort of. In a half-assed sort of way.”
“We’ll fix that. I’m going to show you another client I designed for. Ground up. Baby Mine. Infants to toddlers, clothes, gear, stuffed toys. It’s going to suck you right in.”
“It doesn’t seem fair to taunt me with baby stuff.”
“If we do this, I’ll be taunting them with your stuff.”
“I’m going to join Dad and Trey in liking you. Isn’t this the most fantastic room?” she added when they stepped into the library. “And your monitor on the desk just adds to it, I think. Where’s your computer?”
Sonya tapped a small box beside her keyboard.
“That little thing? That works? If it does, I want one.”
Sonya woke the computer up. “Give me the website.”
Sonya typed it in, looked at the page with its square banner reading Pottery by Anna in a swirly font, the pale colors. She clicked on the Shop tab.
Waited.
“It takes too long to load.”
“I’ve heard that.”
When it finally loaded, she studied the photos.
“You did the vase in my room.”
“Yes! Good eye.”
“And the candleholders on the mantel in the front parlor.”
“Very good eye.”
“I like your work—the photos are good, show it off, but it’s not organized, and they come off a little muddy against your background colors. You’ve got vases—and I love this one.” She hovered the cursor over it. “You’ve got them mixed in with bowls, platters—baking dishes,” she continued, and waited while it brought up the next page. “Pots with mugs and wine coolers and so on. I can fix this.”
Already seeing it, Sonya nodded.
“You and your work aren’t pale and muddy. You need something more striking, more arty. And you need a much better format. It needs to load fast—people have no patience. Revise the Shop tab,” she muttered. “We’ll add an About the Artist tab. We should have some photos of you making pots and stuff.”