“Ispilled coffee on the shirt she was wearing,” Devin chimed in, noticing herwrinkled nose of disgust at the old Blink 182 t-shirt.
“Areyou the carpenter she mentioned?” the woman asked, tipping her head back tolook up at Devin’s face. She was short—shorter than me, even atfive-foot-even—and her eyes flickered with delight. “My, you’re a tall youngman, aren’t you?”
Blushinggently, Devin nodded. “Yeah, I’d be the carpenter.”
“Carpentersarerather clumsy, I’ve found,” Connie said, nodding her sympathies, hermouth forming an exaggerated pout. She then extended a hand for me to shake. “ConnieFischer, real estate agent and River Canyon mayor.”
“KylieJames.” I put on my most business-like smile and she nodded once. “This isDevin O’Leary.”
Hereached out to shake her hand, but she shook her head with a tight-lippedsmile. “Oh, that’s quite all right. Dirty hands. Anyway, if you’ll both followme, I’ll give you the grand tour, although I can’t understand whyanybodywould want this filthy old place. I do love the restoration of our beautifulhistoricalbuildings, but this place is justdisastrous.”
Connie’svoice faded as she dug through her large purse for the key. Devin leaned downand whispered into my ear, “Dirty hands?”
“Justignore it,” I hissed back, keeping my grin plastered to my face.
“Myhands aren’t dirty,” he grumbled above me, and I jabbed him in the side with myelbow.
Thedoor pushed open with a gentle creak, greeting us with its old hello, andConnie led us inside over the noisy floorboards and littered debris. The mustysmell hit my nostrils immediately and I pinched my nose. Glancing back at me,Connie nodded apologetically.
“Thebasement isverydamp. Mildew is a problem. I hope you’re up to thetask,” she said to Devin, and he nodded.
“I’msure it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Hewalked past us, assessing the place with his professional eye, and I hung backwith Connie, allowing her to take me through the old tavern, bit by bit.
“Nothingseems to stay in this place,” she told me as we walked together into abackroom. “Another bar tried to open several years ago, but it wasunsuccessful. We have TheOl’ Tavern down the road,and one bar isplentyfor such a small town.”
Inodded, surveying the empty room with one quick look around. “We ran into aguy—Patrick—who told us about it when we first got here.”
“Ah,so you’ve met some of the locals already? That’s just wonderful. Welovefriendliness around here.” She smiled kindly, folding her hands over her bellyas we moved back into the main area. “Anyway, you said you were interested inopening up a café?”
Itook a few steps toward the bar and ran my fingertips over the knotted wood.“Yes, and I’d love to do something for the art community as well. You know,poetry readings and live music—that kind of thing. Devin actually plays theguitar and sings, so I thought he could play on a regular basis, and—”
“He’syour boyfriend?”
Mywords were stopped short as my jaw went limp at the personal question. “O-oh,uh ... no. He’s, um, just a good friend of mine. We’ve known each other foryears.”
“Mm,”she said with a thoughtful look. “I thought you were together.”
Iawkwardly touched the split ends of my faded purple hair. “Oh, uh—"
“Anyway,I do think this would be a lovely space for a coffee shop, if you can handleall the mess. The layout isperfect, and you wouldn’t need to doanything to the plumbing or electric, if you didn’t want to.” Connie observedthe open room, and I followed her gaze.
Shewas right; it really was perfect. It was dusty and decorated with cobwebs, butotherwise, the multi-leveled room was lovely. The main area right inside thedoor, had plenty of space for tables and chairs, and one corner already had theplatform stage I’d planned on having. A few steps toward the back, led to acozy nook and I thought it would be perfect for floor-to-ceiling shelves withtons and tons of books.
Thefloorboards creaked and groaned under my feet as I walked further into thespace. Those tiny whispers, pleading with me to take them in and adopt them asmy own. I looked around, searching for Devin, and I spotted him coming inthrough a door behind the bar.
“Storageroom and basement that way,” he mentioned when he caught my eye.
“Whatdo you think?” I asked as he came to stand next to me.
“It’ssolid. The mildew in the basement isn’t a huge deal, I can clean it up easily.I think I’d need to do a more thorough inspection but, so far, everything looksgood. Really structurally sound.”
Ismiled at his business-like tone. “So, you like it?”
“God,yeah! I’m already getting ideas,” he said, and I turned to look up at him. Icaught the dreamy gaze in his eyes. “That bar over there? It’s a beautifulpiece of solid oak. I thought I could repurpose that and make you a counter.” Inodded, watching as the place morphed into the vision of my dreams, right beforemy eyes. “There’s also a loft you could use as an office. I could put a wallup, if you wanted, to give you more separation from the shop itself. Or, youcould utilize it and turn it into an extension of the shop. Whatever youwanted.”
Myeyes welled up with tears, and for the first time in over a year, there wasnothing sad about them. There was no connection to my heartbreak. These werepure. They werehappy. They were a sign that things just might be okay,and I turned to Devin, who watched me with anxious intent.
