After a couple of minutes, Kevin walked toward her again, tucking his phone back in his pocket.
“You’re in luck,” he said. “I’ve only been on the Vineyard a few years and don’t have many connections yet, but there’s one guy I know who knows pretty much everyone. Even better, he’s agreed to help.”
Maddie would have been elated if not for a small pang of intuition that twisted in her stomach.
“Give Rex a call,” he continued. “You have his number?”
Yes, she had his number.
Forcing a smile, she thanked Kevin and told him she’d keep him posted. Then she headed toward the sandy path that led down past Lisa’s house and out to the road. Once safely in her car, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel. If she wanted to pursue the idea of a bookshop, she supposed there was no getting around it. She had to call Rex. Or, later, try to explain why she had not.
The following morning, they met for a late breakfast at Waterside Restaurant in Vineyard Haven.
“You could have called me first,” Rex said, once a server delivered their order: a breakfast burrito for him, toast and jam for Maddie.
She was a foolish, nervous wreck. At least he was polite enough not to ask if this was why she’d showed up at his door two days ago.
She took a sip of Earl Grey.
“Ask anyone on the island,” he continued. “I don’t bite.” He cocked that enticing smile of his.
She took another sip.
Rex set down his fork. “Okay. I get it. But it’s okay for friends to help each other, Maddie. Like it or not, I already have. I called one of the Chilmark Select Board members last night, only to flush out some facts. The shops on the harborare leased from the town, and Arnie is definitely leaving. So, technically, the space will be available as of January first.”
She blinked, set down her mug, and looked at him. “Seriously?”
He held up a hand that stalled her enthusiasm. “I used the word ‘technically,’ because I know these things don’t usually happen fast. The Select Board won’t—can’t—negotiate anything until they and members of the Planning Board have assessed the place. The guy I spoke with said that can take a week or a month … or a year. The timing depends on lots of things, including priorities on their calendar.”
“Oh,” she said, “well, that’s understandable.” She didn’t know if it was true, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
“It also depends on how many interested parties there are. And they’ll need to see a plan from a potential lessee.”
“A plan? That sounds discouraging. I was hoping to rent the place, maybe for a year.” It was bad enough that her initial idea was probably far-flung and unrealistic, but now, what with possible red tape, competition, and no doubt other hoops she’d have to jump through, she’d most likely be biting off more than she possibly could chew.
Rex didn’t roll his eyes at her comment. He was, after all, a nice man.
“There is some good news, though,” he went on. “No one else has come forward yet to say they’re interested in the space. So if you’re the first to submit a letter of intent—tell them your background, your ties to the island, and what you intend to do with the shop—you might score a few extra points. Oh, and in the letter you’ll need to say you’ll have a blueprint to them before Thanksgiving. That’s pretty quick, but it’s officially off-season now, and Kevin has worked with an architect who might be able to make it happen. And give you a deal in the process.” He paused. “My two cents, however, is that the town’s property assessment will reveal someissues of structural deterioration and safety. The building is old. Part of it was replaced after the coast guard fire in 2010, but that’s a long time ago now.”
The phrase “far-flung and unrealistic” now felt like a certainty. She sighed. “The truth is, Rex, it might not work no matter what. Let’s face it, I’m a college professor, not an entrepreneur. I love reading books, but, honestly, I have no clue how to sell them.” Then she remembered she hadn’t known if she was capable of earning a PhD, either, or that Owen (who wasn’t her ex at the time) had thought the idea was “cockamamie”—which he not-so-kindly shared with her after she’d enrolled in her first class.
“Not so fast, Maddie.” Rex reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You’re smart and energetic. I, for one, think it’s worth pursuing. In case you were wondering.”
She forged a smile. “Okay. That’s good to know.” After a brief moment of more contemplation, she added, “So Kevin could contact the architect and set up an appointment for me?”
Rex grinned and slowly removed his hand from hers; she tried not to let on that she’d liked it there. “I could go with you, if you want,” he said, then glanced down at his untouched burrito. “With Kevin, too, of course.”
Of course, she thought.Safety in numbers.
They finished eating, then said their good-byes, and Maddie headed back to the cabin to get to work on a letter of intent. It might not get her the shop, but if Rex said it was worth pursuing, maybe it was. And maybe he was, too, sometime down the road.
Back to the cabin, Grandma was still out. So Maddie sat cross-legged on the sofa, opened her computer, and drafted a letter for the Select Board, touting her background, education, and commitment to the island, not having a clue if the last item would prove correct. But she could hardly say shemight only live there until her grandmother died, after which her son might stick around for a while, not that he’d want to run a bookshop.
She did confirm that a formal blueprint would be ready before Thanksgiving, then drew a loose sketch of a floor plan based on what she remembered about the shop. As she worked, she reminded herself that her world would not come crashing down if the bookshop didn’t materialize; it wasn’t as if owning one was her lifelong dream.
All she needed was the courage to go through with this first step. Despite that the rest was starting to feel overwhelming.
Closing her eyes, she tried to relax. Then her mind drifted to money.
