The realtor introduced himself as Grof, shaking all three of their hands. He hesitated with Glyma, and Quin’s lungs started to boil, heat building in her sinuses. Like Glyma could tell, she reached out and gave Quin’s wrist a squeeze. It helped, but only a little.
Luckily, Grof wasn’t the landlord himself, just a representative of the firm who was renting the property, but Quin still despised him. She listened, though, when he went through the history of the building.
“It was used by some of the building crew when they were constructing the train station, and later, the DDMV. Most of the foremen would sleep here, while the lower crews slept in tents. They used the kitchen and main space as a mess hall.”
Waryn launched into questions immediately as Glyma gazed around in wonder. Quin could almost see the creative ideas flying through her mind, and her excitement was infectious.
“I’m going to paint the walls purple, and we’ll hang curtains, and this will be where patrons can sit.” She motioned to the space currently housing hundreds of cardboard boxes from the DDMV. Then she spun to the small corner counter and smoothed her hands over the dirty surface. “Customers will pick up their coffee and pastries right here, and we’ll have the espresso machine here. And then there’s space here for a bakery case. We could install some swinging little doors here with an ‘employees only’ sign.”
Pressing her hands together like she was praying, she brought her fingers to her lips and squealed. “Quin, it’s perfect.”
“I know you’re excited,” Quin said, not wanting to squash her enthusiasm. “But remember—”
“Realistic expectations,” Glyma repeated, and Quin rubbed her biceps, ignoring the electricity crackling up her arms.
“Let’s see everything first. Keep imagining, but don’t forget to see what’s actually here. Okay?”
After three deep breaths, Glyma nodded. “Okay.”
The kitchen was in worse condition than the dining area. Most of the appliances weren’t good anymore, though the oven may have been salvageable. The walk-in cooler hadn’t been in use for years, and it smelled like rotten vegetables and rodent shit. Everything was covered in several layers of grime and dust.
“Just needs some elbow grease,” Grof said, and Quin scoffed.
“It needs a crime scene clean-up crew.”
“We’re not paying for that,” he snipped.
“Can I see the flat above?” Glyma asked, and they retraced their steps to the main area, then followed Grof down a narrow hallway.
“There’s a room here that was used as an office of sorts. They kept the building plans and blueprints here.” Grof opened the door to the room at the end of the hall. It wasn’t overly spacious, but it was the perfect size for an office.
Two doors on the left led to a bathroom and a supply closet respectively, and the final door on the right held a staircase. Glyma went first, and Quin followed. The space above was a modest size for a one-bedroom. The front door to the apartment opened up to a small kitchen and living space, open concept. Two sliding doors separated the space from the bedroom. The only bathroom was a small ensuite, which meant guests would have to walk through the bedroom, but Glyma didn’t seem to mind.
“There’s a direct entrance as well,” Grof said, pointing to the balcony that also doubled as a fire escape. “A set of metal stairs out the back, if you don’t want to walk through the commercial space.”
“Is it smaller than your current place?” Quin asked, and Glyma see-sawed her hand.
“The kitchen’s smaller, for sure, but the bedroom is more spacious. And there’s a tub.”
“You wouldn’t have to do as much up here,” Waryn commented as he checked the fridge and turned on the kitchen sink. “The top floor was better maintained.”
“It’s structurally sound,” Grof said, which was really the only thing the place could boast about.
“I love it,” Glyma said, and Quin cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I know I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, but I love it, Quin. It’s… I know it’s gonna take a lot of work, but it’s perfect.”
The flat was more or less livable, and the commercial space could be spruced up. The kitchen was Quin’s biggest worry, but if they—Glyma—hired an inspector to make sure the vents and the pipes were good, it could be salvageable.
“It could be pretty great,” Quin said, and Glyma rounded on her.
“Really?”
“You don’t need my permission,” Quin said.
“No, I know that. But I’m not the professional one here. I value your opinion.” She spoke to Waryn next. “Both of your opinions.”
Waryn looked around, hands in his pockets. Grof mumbled something about a phone call and disappeared back downstairs. When the door at the bottom of the staircase shut, Waryn nodded.
“It’s solid. It will take work, and I mean physical labor, to really get it where it needs to be. There are some repairs needed, like the broken window and I saw some cracked tiles in the kitchen. My biggest worry is the walk-in cooler. If it’s not repairable, I don’t know if you could afford a new one.”
