Page 28 of We Thought We Knew It All
Nicole:California, we need a meeting. Choose a time for a video call and I’ll make it work.
I knew how this meeting was going to go.
Her:California, not selling these rights is a mistake.
Me:Good thing it’s my mistake to make.
Her:You’re being stubborn. Stop it.
Then, I’d laugh because she’d known me for over six years, before there even was a finished book, and she knew me well.
I stopped under the overhang of a nearby building, shielded from the sun as I shot her back a message.
Callie:Give me two hours.
I couldn’t avoid this meeting forever, might as well get it over with.
Ignoring my missed calls, I stepped back out onto the sidewalk, only to be blocked by two burly men carrying a diner booth out the front door nearby.
A middle aged, dark-skinned woman followed them, smiling at me as she drew near.
“Getting an update?” I asked, gesturing to the ripped booth and then looking back at the building where the name “Boathouse” hung. There weren’t any boats nearby, but it was Florida so I guessed the name sort of made sense.
“Vacating,” she explained. “My brother owned the place, but decided to move north. Too hard to make a go of it when the town is dead half the year.”
“I hear you.” I remembered how hard it had been to hear that Mom’s diner was going under. “My family had a place around here about ten years ago, but season stopped being able to carry us through the summer.”
“Ahhh.” She laughed. “It’s good to meet another person who’s actually from here. Other people don’t get it.”
“If it’s your brother’s place, why are you here?”
“Supervising.” She grinned. “He had an appointment and promised I wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”
I liked the woman. “I wonder what it’d take to do a good business year-round in this town.”
She leaned in. “As a businesswoman myself, I hate to admit this. You need a gimmick. Daiquiri Deck across town seems to do well. Then you have the places further south that are former haunts of famous dead people. You need something that’ll get you in the tour books.”
I must have looked lost in concentration because she spoke loudly. “Wanna see the place?”
I agreed without a second thought.
I felt a surge of energy walking through the door, a surge of remembrance.Ally’shad meant a lot to me growing up. It’d meant even more to my mom.
The interior was warm with wooden plank floors and Caribbean blue walls. The blue booths that were being taken out were old and torn, but the wooden tables were nice. Nautical paintings hung on the walls and a wooden boat hung from the ceiling.
The bar was oak and smooth with only a few imperfections in it.
“This place is gorgeous.” I stepped out of the way as two workmen bustled by.
“I’m sad to see him close up.”
I stepped around the bar and went back into the kitchen. It needed a thorough cleaning, but seemed to be in fine order.
An idea formed in my mind.
“I assume he doesn’t own the building.”
“Oh no,” she said. “He rents, but the landlord is great. Are you in the market for a storefront?”
