Page 58 of Just Trouble

What can he possibly be doing in there?

I watch, incredulous, as he begins to wash the windows from the inside. He comes outside eventually and goes after the grime with impressive determination. Maybe the rain has softened the dirt. Maybe he’s really good at cleaning windows. Either way, the difference is impressive. The windows are sparkling when he vanishes inside again. I can’t see him anymore, though I really want to know what he’s doing.

I pounce on my phone when Merrie calls me at four and my heart jumps that she’s close by. I head across the street to meet her, hearing the approach of a vehicle. The rain has stopped, although it’s still humid and gray. I stop on the sidewalk to wait,wondering if Luke has noticed, then notice the line of green between the curb and the sidewalk.

It’s a line of little plants, no bigger than half an inch tall. They’re all the same, as if someone deliberately seeded this little gap filled with dirt. I can see green all the way past Jim’s antique shop and west toward Big Red.

I’m spared further consideration by Merrie’s arrival. She has an older Jeep Cherokee and parks right in front of Dad’s car. It’s full to the roof inside, just enough space left for her in the driver’s seat. She gets out and looks up and down the street, then marches over to shake my hand, unable to completely hide her excitement. “It’s really here,” she says.

“It’s really here,” I agree and she almost rubs her hands together with glee.

Luke opens the door and leans against the frame. He’s dirty after his efforts of the day, a streak of dirt on his cheek and his hair tousled. How can he look better than ever? “Welcome to Empire,” he drawls, pulls off a yellow rubber glove and offers his hand.

“That guy,” she says, apparently referring to the water dumping incident. “You’rethatguy. The one who got a bath.”

“I’m that guy,” he agrees as they shake hands. “Otherwise known as Luke Jones.”

“Not M.C.,” she says and gives me a smile.

“Not even close,” I agree, though Luke frowns in confusion.

“Mr. Patron, it’s nice to meet you.” Merrie eyes him warily. “Why me?”

“Because I can give you a chance. And because Sylvia works with you.”

“Iknewit,” she says, untroubled, and turns her attention to the diner. “Let’s see the worst of it.” Luke stands back, gesturing to the open door with a bow, and she heads in, looking left and right. Where I see dirt and old fixtures, she seems to seeopportunity. We go through the whole place, front to back, the apartment upstairs and the basement below, the parking spaces out back in the alley and even the empty flat roof. I can see the excitement in her eyes. I’m also keenly aware of Luke’s presence and how often I find his gaze on me when I glance up.

“How much leasehold improvement are you in for? Mr. Patron?” she asks, running a hand over the old counter.

“Just talk to me,” Luke says. “I’ll tell you what’s too much. When I got in here today, I looked at the electrical panel.” He makes a face. “So, there’s an electrician coming tomorrow to see what needs upgrading. He couldn’t make it during the week, but is working us in. We’ll need to update the walk-in fridge and freezer, as well as the stove…”

“Two stoves,” she says. “One with burners and one with a grill. Gas, of course, and a broiler, too. A deep fryer with two reservoirs.” She’s walking through the cooking space, indicating fixtures with her hands. “Double sinks here as well as the ones over there. A bar fridge here and a wine fridge on the other side. Pizza oven here. Stainless counters, shelves here for plates. This counter needs to be higher and I’ll need better ventilation. That wood floor needs refinishing and I want tiles in the kitchen…

“I should go,” I say, but they both turn on me.

“I’d like you to stay,” Merrie says.

“Me, too,” Luke agrees. “You’ll have ideas about who can help out.”

As much as I want to be part of the solution, I’m wishing there was a more personal reason he wanted me to stay.

And this is illogical, given what I said to him this very morning, so that annoys me too.

“Tables, chairs, bar stools. Not new or cheap,” Merrie says. She gets a portfolio and opens it on the counter Luke has wiped down. She spreads out drawings and Luke and I gather closer. “I’ve been dreaming about this opportunity forever,” she admits,then looks around and catches her breath. “This place will work beautifully.”

When I get past the fact that I’m standing so close to Luke that our arms practically brush, I see that there are clippings and pictures mixed with the drawings. It’s a beautiful vision-board and I understand what she wants immediately.

“It has to be earthy and welcoming, a little upmarket but not intimidating,” she says. “I want people to feel like it’s their place, like they can hang out here all the time.”

“Copper, wood, candles,” I say and she nods. There are sample menus mixed into the clippings, a picture of wood-fired pizza oven, lit candles and wineglasses without stems. Linen napkins and dark wood tables. The images are so elegant that I want to invite myself in.

“Farm-to-table, local ingredients presented at their best. Pizza of the day. Soup of the day. Good fresh food done right doesn’t have to be expensive. I want to have regular clientele, people who come weekly if not more often, people who always stop for lunch. I want to be a neighbourhood fixture.”

“I love it,” Luke says. “When do you open?”

She laughs. “That depends on you. Help me.”

“Okay.” Luke frowns and starts making a list. “We have the electrician. We’ll need a plumber and a carpenter, someone to paint…”

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