“This coat absolutely cannot be cashmere; you dare to quote a wholesale price of 80 dollars!”
Whitaker Scarlett spoke with certainty, and Callan Briggs reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on:
“What’s going on… Come on, feel it, touch the fabric!”
Callan Briggs, in a panic, even slipped into his local dialect. His language was quite good among the people of Sablewick , but he still had an accent. Whitaker Scarlett looked at him, and he seemed a bit guilty. Callan Briggs, with a hint of urgency, took off the coat and shoved it into her hands, and Whitaker Scarlett rubbed it with her hands.
“It really is good material.”
Callan Briggs wasn’t entirely lying. From Whitaker Scarlett’s two lifetimes of experience, it should be a blend of cashmere and wool—though she couldn’t tell which small factory had such poor quality control to waste cashmere like this!
Before Callan Briggs could feel pleased, Whitaker Scarlett frowned: “Good material or not, it’s not cashmere. 80 dollars for one piece is too expensive. I can’t sell it at that price. Give me a reasonable price.”
Callan Briggs felt like he had seen a ghost. The first time Whitaker Scarlett came to pick up goods, she was dressed so poorly, clearly a country girl. Had she ever touched real cashmere products? How could she be so adamant that this coat wasn’t made of cashmere?
One wanted to sell the clothes, while the other actually wanted to buy them. After some back-and-forth, they finally settled on a wholesale price of 70 dollars.
Callan Briggs’s expression was as if he had just lost his mother. In terms of acting skills, Whitaker Scarlett felt she was no match for this young businessman, who had a natural talent for it. She relied on her experience to haggle with Callan Briggs, and he wouldn’t budge below 70 dollars, so she finally agreed.
The coat came in two colors: black and navy blue, with navy blue being the term used in later years; people now commonly referred to it as “navy blue.”
Whitaker Scarlett took 10 pieces of each color, ensuring she had all the sizes. Callan Briggs was eager to offload this style, which was hard to sell, but Whitaker Scarlett was bold yet cautious, unwilling to stock up too much. After all, she was mentally prepared for the possibility that it might take time to sell them. Not only was the style picky, but this was also the most expensive item she had ever purchased wholesale, with a retail price likely around 140 dollars, equivalent to three months’ wages for an average person.
Callan Briggs thought Whitaker Scarlett was stuck with winter coats, but she turned around and ordered 30 winter jackets and 30 duck down jackets.
She ordered more men’s winter jackets, while the opposite was true for the duck down jackets.
With just these three items, the total came to nearly 2900 dollars. After deducting shipping costs and her return train ticket, she was left with only 1800 dollars to spend. Whitaker Scarlett decided to forgo the sweaters; no matter how unique the styles were, she didn’t want any. She only wanted women’s woolen coats and trousers, and she wouldn’t be getting any small accessories like scarves or gloves. The profit from leather shoes wasn’t much, and she was too lazy to deal with sizes.
The variety of goods changed from few to many, then back to few again, which was a result of testing the market response. In business, one cannot remain static; adjustments must be made at all times to avoid being eliminated by the market… Well, running a clothing business in the commercial capital was indeed a challenge.
In the blink of an eye, December arrived.
Whitaker Scarlett sat on the train, hesitating about whether to get off midway… Just as she had thought before, she should visit her old home from her past life. The first time was when Kay said he would meet in Sablewick , the second time was when Kay accompanied her south, and the third time was with Elizabeth; it seemed inconvenient to get off at any of those times.
And this time? She was alone.
No, she still had a lot of goods with her, nearly 5000 dollars worth. If she couldn’t get them all to the commercial capital station, what if all her hard work over these days went to waste?
Whitaker Scarlett convinced herself with this reasoning.
Feeling timid as she neared her hometown, she was afraid that in this time and space, she wouldn’t see “Whitaker Scarlett,” and if she did, she wouldn’t know how to face “herself.” Perhaps her current strength wasn’t enough; otherwise, she wouldn’t be so conflicted.
Clang, clang, clang.
The train passed the midway station.
Whitaker Scarlett took her goods back to the commercial capital after a 30-hour hard seat journey for the fourth time.
