Chapter 19
Grace
I stood looking around the space while Mercy and Ace debated back and forth about its pros and cons.
From what I was picking up, there were far more cons than pros.
“This place could be gorgeous with the right finishes.” Mercy turned in a circle, looking high up on the expansive walls at I wasn’t sure what.
“It could,” Ace agreed, “if we could get it into decent enough condition for finishing. From what I’m seeing, that looks like a longshot. A frustrating, expensive longshot.”
“It has its challenges,” Mercy conceded, “but we’ve dealt with other challenging properties. I could shoot whoever had the brilliant brainstorm to paint the exposed brick walls solid black from floor to ceiling” – she shot a disgusted look at one of the walls in question – “but once the paint is off and the floors are leveled and refinished...”
Ace spoke as Mercy trailed off. “The brick is in crap condition, though. You’re going to lose at least some of it getting the paint off. You can tell here and here” – Ace pointed out a couple of spots where the brick had started to crumble – “that moisture has gotten into and behind it. We’d need to pull part of that wall down just to see what we’d be up against. The floors on this level might be salvageable. Upstairs may be another question.”
We were on the ground level of a three-story shotgun-style building, where the rooms on each floor connected front to back directly, with no hallway between. Mercy and Ace had shared that it was an unusual design for the area, and I could see why Mercy wanted the building. It had charm and appeal despite its rough shape.
Now that Ace had pointed out a few damaged bricks, though, my eyes began to pick out more and more.
Mercy huffed in irritation. “I hate water. It’s so freaking destructive.” She let out another breath as she looked around the space again. “I hate even more when I have to agree with you. But on this one, I do. If there’s potential water damage in the walls on the ground floor, it can only get worse as we go up. And God only knows what’s going on with the roof. It’s probably a disaster.”
“Probably,” Ace agreed. “Sorry, I know you really wanted this one.”
“I did. The rental market in this area is right on the verge of taking off. Location wise this building is perfect but otherwise” – she shook her head regretfully – “not a good bet.” Mercy caught my eye and shrugged. “And that, Grace, is how not to buy a building.”
“It sounds like the best call. It was interesting to see the process, both here and at the first place we went.” We’d walked through a commercial space before this one that Mercy and Ace had agreed Baron Properties would bid on. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“Absolutely.” Ace followed Mercy and me as we made our way to the door, careful of debris and rough spots in the flooring. “Feel free any time. The more you see the whole process, the better you can understand the business.”
I rode back to the office with Mercy, feeling a rush of happiness at the sight of the flowers sitting on the corner of my desk.
I’d split the huge birthday bouquet I’d gotten on Sunday, leaving half of it at my apartment and bringing half of it into the office so I could enjoy it both places.
It was bright and cheerful and, though it had been part of my gift from everyone, made me think of Michael every time I looked at it.
Not that I needed the reminder. He was taking up a lot of space in my brain no matter what I was doing it seemed.
He let me know he was thinking about me, too. He’d texted “happy independence day” to me that morning, which had made me laugh. I’d never thought of the day I’d run – scared and having no idea what to do other than just go – as my own personal day of liberation, but in a sense it had been. I loved that Michael had taken a day I was a little ashamed of and made me see it in a positive light.
That text had been followed by another.
Michael: I’m sorry I can’t be with you to celebrate tonight but take yourself to dinner at Romano’s on me. Or get takeout or delivery if you want to. They know to expect you and it’s all taken care of. I’ll see you tomorrow night.
I’d texted him back with a thank you, glad he couldn’t see the tears that welled up in my eyes at his thoughtfulness. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know I was a mess but blubbering over a text message was still a bit much.
After work, I changed, did a little light cleaning in my apartment, then walked the several blocks to Romano’s. Along with the bagel deli and the nearby park, it was one of my favorite things about the neighborhood. I’d eaten there enough times, both by myself and with either Mercy or Michael, that the staff recognized me and welcomed me by name.
I followed Mama Romano, one half of the husband and wife team who owned the restaurant, to one of the small booths near the kitchen, which she knew I favored when eating by myself.
“You’re celebrating something tonight?” she asked as I slid into the seat.
“Something like that,” I agreed.
“Well, then,” she beamed. “I’m glad you’re celebrating with us. Do you want your usual or you want to live it up a little?”
She wiggled her eyebrows, making me laugh.
“My usual is great, thanks.”
A couple minutes later, Lyssa, one of the many Romano family members who worked at the restaurant, slid a glass of the house red wine and a glass of ice water in front of me, stayed to talk for a minute, then went on with her other duties.
That set the pattern for the evening. I chatted with Bennie, an absolutely adorable younger family member who couldn’t have been more than seventeen, when he brought my Caesar salad and bread; with Mama Romano again when she brought my spinach ravioli; then with Mr. Romano, also known as Mr. Gino, when he brought me a dish of spumoni ice cream with a lit candle in it.
“For whatever you celebrate,” he said as he set it on the table. “You want coffee?”
I nodded, knowing I shouldn’t – caffeine was not my friend in the evening – but unable to resist their amazing espresso.
I lingered over my ice cream and coffee, soaking in the warmth of my surroundings. I debated purchasing a chocolate cannoli from the bakery case to have for breakfast, decided against it, and waved goodbye to Mama Romano and the others as I made my way to the door.
Happily full, I left Romano’s and headed toward my apartment. I strolled along, enjoying the crisp night air, the lights from the businesses, and the sounds of the people coming and going around me, second-guessing my decision not to purchase the cannoli.
I’d just turned the last corner before home when I heard it.
Footsteps sounded behind me a second before something slammed against the left side of my face and pain exploded inside my head. I stumbled sideways from the force of the blow and just barely stayed on my feet. I tried to turn to face my attacker but an arm like a steel band wrapped around me from behind and my feet left the ground.
I screamed with everything I had, kicking and flailing, twisting my body and straining against my attacker’s hold, desperate to get free. The man who held me abruptly stopped moving, cursing and setting my feet on the ground as he clamped a hand over my mouth and tried to get me under control.
I reached my hands back toward where I thought his face must be, digging my nails in, aiming for his eyes.
“Goddamn bitch.” My attacker shifted his stance, pushing my hands away while trying to keep his iron hold on me. “He better pay up after this.”
Adrenaline rushed through me at his words, and I struggled harder. If Ellis was behind this, I was as good as dead if I didn’t get away.
I felt my attacker brace his legs apart to get a better grip on me and knew it was now or never. If he was able to carry me off the main street or get me in a vehicle, it was over.
Running on instinct, I shifted my weight and with everything I had, jerked my right leg back and up, driving my heel into my attacker’s crotch.
The result was immediate. A loud curse split the air as my attacker’s grip loosened and he shoved me hard, straight into the wall of the building next to us. Unable to stop my momentum in time, I crashed against the brick and crumpled to the ground.
I lay there dazed, hearing shouts in the distance as I tried to figure out where my attacker was. I needed to get up, get away, but couldn’t figure out how to get my body to do it.
I heard footsteps running toward me again and tried to push myself up on shaking limbs, only to collapse back onto the pavement. I rolled toward the wall, curling into a ball to protect myself as much as I could.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and braced for a hit that never came. Voices came closer, then the world went black.