Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“What’s going through your mind, Hank? You got some passionate spiel about how much you love being a small-town firefighter, and the corruption of the big city and how it’s not for you either?”
“Aw, no, none of that. The Spokane fire department treated me well and they’re good guys and gals. I missed this place too, so I took the opportunity when it came. No ulterior motives here.”
“And what are you thinking about as you lovingly stare into my eyes?”
“I’m thinking about how I wish that public decency laws weren’t a thing because I want to do so many things to you right now, Fig.”
She laughed, turning red, but doing nothing to suggest she disagreed with my idea.
“Alas, we’re in a civilized society. How terrible.”
More giggles. Her eyes drift away and back toward the old shoe store. “You think your realtor can get me the information on what it takes to rent that store?”
“Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”
“I’ll call her right now.”
“Thanks.”
I’m no business-minded person. I make my money by staying fit and ready to run into burning buildings if people need me to. I have no clue what it’ll take for Fig to make her boutique dream a reality.
But I have my heart. And I’m prepared to put that behind Fig and support her, no matter what she wants to do.
7
FIG
We go outside and look at the shoe store while Hank gets his realtor on speakerphone. She says she has one last house she wants him to see.
“I’ll warn you in advance, it has a very strange floor plan and someone used bathroom tiles for the bedrooms and put carpeting on the walls. It needs work, but the price is so good I’d love to show it to you.”
He declines.
“The reason I called,” he says, “is Fig has a real estate question for you. Do you know who owns the old shoe store off Main Stree?”
“That place?” she says. “My firm owns it. I don’t think there’s anything stopping someone from living there, but it seems like an awkward place to call a home.”
Hank throws his arm around my shoulder again, pulling me close. Just this touch is enough to make me wonder what would happen if there were a whole lot less clothes between us. “Don’t want to live there. It’s for commercial purposes, I just think we’d like to see it.”
“Certainly. I can meet you there right now if you want.”
We walk over to the empty store, and a few minutes later the realtor rolls up in her car. She opens the door and waves us in.
“This was owned by the Harts up until two years ago,” she says. “Hart and Sole Shoe Boutique, as I’m sure you both remember.”
“Best place to get good shoes in Home,” I say. “I think I still have some trainers that are holding together from before I left for college.”
“Molly Hart retired when she turned 70, and had no one to leave the family business to. So she sold off her inventory, and sold the building to my firm. I think she used the money she made to go to Florida.”
“As retirees tend to do.”
“It’s a solid retail space. Perfect for selling anything that doesn’t require cooking, although that could be done if that’s what you’re really after.”
I look around the empty shop. My imagination runs wild. Dresses hanging from the walls, some custom t-shirts, lots of space to offer lots of options.
“There’s also a decently sized backroom. Molly used it for stock, but there’s room enough for machinery if you wanted to use this place for, say, a dry-cleaning business. Home could use one of those actually, Hugo’s place has gone downhill since his son took over.”
“My passion isn’t cleaning, sorry.”
She laughs, then her phone rings. “One moment.”
I wander around a bit, my imagination still running wild. People coming in, letting me tailor their outfits for their proms, for their weddings. People wanting a new style. Maybe I’d luck out and some celebrity would come in, and my fashion would become world-famous after all.
“I need to go,” the realtor says. “My granddaughter needs to be picked up from school. It’s an emergency.”
“Oh. So we need to clear out?” I say, letting out a long sigh.
She pauses, then shakes her head. “No, no. You’re a Rough. I trust you. The door will lock behind you, it’s electronic, and if I find something broken, I know where to find you, Fig.”
She says that in a cheerful enough tone, even though I can tell she’s serious.
“I’ll email you the terms of the lease and you can decide if you want to do anything from there.”
“Thank you.”
She hustles out the door, leaving Hank and I alone in the abandoned storefront, the sunset coming in through the front window.
I pace more, going to the back to look around a bit. There are windows there too, smaller ones. I see one of the workers at the Chinese place taking out the garbage and wave to him. He waves back as he returns to work.