“Something classy,” Nathan calls. “A speakeasy! Bespoke cocktails! Small bites! Charcuterie! We have family restaurants but no fine dining until you get to the vineyards outside town—”
“Oh, wait.” Nick shakes his head. “Not a restaurant or a bar—remember when that couple from Portland tried? It would take a ton of money to get that space up to code. And you don’t have any of the equipment. Right?”
“Right,” I echo.
Nathan joins us at the table with his own drink. “Okay, no bar or restaurant, to my sadness. But the tourists love culture. You could do a funky little art gallery. Or painting parties or Pilates—”
“Or literally anything but video rentals.” Nick shoots Nathan a wink. “Aaaaand we know someone who’s done a lot of work on downtown buildings—”
“He rebuilt this place gorgeously!” Nathan cries. “He can build whatever you want!”
“But I’m not…I mean, y’all are so kind, trying to help me, but honestly I think I just want to give up.” I feel like such a mood killer, saying it out loud. “I came up here thinking there would be a real inheritance for me and my sisters, but it’s just a lot of work. They need me back home.”
“Are they young?” Nathan asks.
“Twenty-one and twenty-four. They’re grown and functional.” I sigh and take a long, fortifying sip of my latte. “But not fiscally responsible. I’m still taking care of them, pretty much. I thought this was our lottery ticket.”
“Well, maybe it still can be,” Nick says. “For real, Rhea. When we reopened the B&B, we didn’t know if we’d be bankrupt in a year, but we’re constantly booked. Business is booming. Every person on the Chamber is seeing the best crowds in years. You own prime real estate. There is literally no reason you couldn’t start a business that took care of your family. We have savings now. Do you know anybody our age with savings?”
Nathan comes up behind me and puts big, warm hands on my shoulders. “Let yourself dream. Close your eyes. Picture it. If you could open any business in the whole world, what would it be?”
The answer seems to float up from my heart and plop right out of my mouth. “A bookstore.”
“Yes!” Nick nearly shouts. “Yes, please! The closest bookstore is forty-five minutes up the highway, and the library has been closed for years with no end in sight. And you’ve already got shelves.”
“And let’s not forget that you own what’s left of the hardware store, so you wouldn’t even have to pay that much for materials,” Nathan adds. He gives my shoulders a friendly squeeze and steps back around the table to hip-bump his husband. “And like I said, we know an excellent builder.”
Nick leans forward, his eyes aglow. “Please tell me you’ll consider it, Rhea. That old building deserves to shine. Arcadia Falls needs new blood. And I personally need a bookstore like a flower needs the sun.”
“He does,” Nathan agrees. “The only thing he loves more than books is me. And this place. Which, might I mention, looked about as crappy as the video store when we bought it.”
They put their arms around each other and gaze at the historic home around us, glowing with pride.
I think about what it would feel like, owning a successful business. Being the master of my dreams, my own boss. Actually having savings. God, it would be so nice to never have to work for a Mr. Buckley again. I can almost see it in my head, the stained ivory VHS boxes replaced with rows and rows of books. Book clubs with chairs arranged in a circle, little kids on the rug for story time, a gift-wrapping station during the holidays. Maybe I could invite local artists to showcase their works, sell their prints and stickers and jewelry. All the bookstores I’ve visited lately have a whole section for little gifts. And—
Wait.
No.
What am I doing?
Yesterday, I swore I would leave this place.
Then again, yesterday I thought I could just rent out all the buildings and run right back home.
But what is there to run back to?
The same small town, the same low-paying jobs, the same tow-truck driver with a box of nails and a brother on the force who’d love nothing more than a reason to put me in handcuffs. The same boring story told again and again. My entire life back in Alabama would feel like treading water. Like waiting for something real to happen. I would never make enough money to support my sisters and have a life of my own choosing.
But maybe…maybe if I stay here, I could.
Maybe if I stay here, I can be part of a new story.
I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.
“Where’s the bank?” I ask.
12.
