Page 23 of Love, Lies and Mistletoe
“Can someone fill me in please?”
Joan groaned. “The building has been condemned, Brant. We have to move.”
He shrugged. He figured this might be coming. The area was prone to flooding since the levees along the Mississippi in this part of town were aging. It was also an old industrial park. Lots of concrete, abandoned brick factories, and low-lying ground compared to the new strip malls and highways taking over in all directions. The area was, by definition, urban blight, but the building had served its purpose of housing his truck and equipment. That, and Barry’s rent was ridiculously cheap.
“Well, Barry, you warned us. So it’s no surprise really.” He turned back to Joan since she was the only one who’d given him something concrete so far. “Why does everyone look like the world ends tomorrow?”
Barry, ever the optimist, piped up. “Not tomorrow. Next week.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Victoria dug her hands into her pockets. “You have to be out by next Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?That’s five days from now!”
Barry put his hand up to calm him. “I know it’s soon, but—”
“But nothing. This is the busiest time of year for me.” He looked to Joan, who shook her head as she looked at some faraway point on the ceiling soaring over their heads.
“I know. I’m sorry, Brant,” Barry said. “I thought we’d have more time. Wishful thinking.”
“A lot of good wishful thinking does me now.” He ran his hands through his hair. Where was he going to go on such short notice? He couldn’t park his truck at home. It wouldn’t fit in his driveway, and the neighbors certainly wouldn’t appreciate it parked on the street indefinitely. And the bucket truck plus all the extra scaffolding—where would he put that? Not to mention Joan’s office. He didn’t have time to do his laundry let alone search for a new space.
Victoria looked around the room. “This is literally falling down around you. Frankly, it makes me nervous just standing here.”
Admittedly, that wasn’t a stretch. Some mornings Brant would arrive and find a brick or two in the parking lot. Or a good storm would pass through and rattle the old glass windows so hard they’d crack. He counted on getting through Christmas at least. Then he’d have the time to look at real estate. Maybe buy a place instead of rent this time.
Nope. No amount of Barry’s wishful thinking or appeals to Victoria would buy him an extra two months. He needed to find a place for his equipment, and fast. So much for it being the most wonderful time of the year.
Victoria and Barrystood near the far door, talking in hushed tones. Inside the office, he and Joan watched them through the interior window.
He kept his voice low. “When did this go down?”
Joan groaned. "Barry called me like thirty minutes ago,” she said, looking at her phone. “I was on the other line with a client when they walked in the door together.”
“This is so Barry. I can’t believe he didn’t give us a heads-up.”
“Honestly, I think this caught him by surprise. You know how organized he is though.” She rolled her eyes. “A letter from the city has probably been buried on his desk for a month.”
Exactly. The downside to the low rent was that Barry wasn’t exactly a by-the-book landlord. He cut corners. He ignored phone calls, sometimes not getting back to Joan for a week after multiple attempts.
Brant watched Barry and Victoria leave the building, continuing their conversation as Barry closed the door behind them. He sighed.
“What are we going to do?” he repeated.
Joan shuffled some papers on her desk. “Do you want some good news?”
“Are you going to tell me that you can wave a wand and make this go away?”
“No, but it’s just as good. We got the Evergreen Place account.”
He’d been waiting for that one. It was a huge shopping center on the north side. Somehow the company hired by the shopping center double-booked them and another client for the same three-day period. Management took the heat and subsequently told the lighting company they were out of luck. Brant only heard about the situation from the company rep who sold Brant his lights. That afternoon Brant put in a quick call to the management company, throwing his hat into the ring.
“That is good news. Great news.” His expression must not have been very convincing, though, because Joan gave him a sympathetic look. She poured him a cup of coffee, shoving it into his hand. That was all he needed—more caffeine for his overactive brain.
“We’ll get through this. I even have some leads.” Joan sat down at her desk and tapped on her keyboard.
“Maybe it’s time to give my Chicago buddy a call. This could be the time to open a Windy City branch.”
