Chapter 6
Our deal with Abuelo and Abuela was that we’d just go take a quick peek to see if any bars or restaurants might have surrendered a decent collection of patio furniture after fizzling out over the winter season.
I wasn’t really worried that they would veto a makeover.
After all, the patio didn’t end up in its current shabby state because they were unwilling to change—they just didn’t have the resources available.
I do think they’ll fight me on the menu, though.
I haven’t had the guts yet to bring up the idea of replacing the rich, carb-heavy dishes with more smoothies and salads.
Abuela is just one step away from funnelling a conveyor belt of Miguelitos down my throat, so I doubt she’ll be open to an entire menu full of what she likes to call rabbit food.
I hope she’ll be able to recognize how dire things are and how important it is to give this change a shot.
Our meeting with Los Castillos—we’ve taken to calling them the purse snatchers—is scheduled for the day after tomorrow and I’m absolutely dreading it.
If they’re unwilling to grant us a deferral, whatever we do today is basically pointless.
It’s financially impossible for us to fix up the restaurant while also paying off the loan.
We’re here! Mia shouts out over the sound of summer tunes exploding from the car radio.
She speeds down the dirt road that leads to the thrift store, stirring up a cloud of reddish dust in the process.
I cough as I flap a hand in front of my face in an effort to limit my dust particle intake, before getting out of the car.
The shop turns out to be more of an open-air market or rummage sale with stuff scattered everywhere.
A sandy path weaves its way past countless tables, chairs, benches, and cabinets.
Old windows and wooden shutters stand propped up against a thick tree and there are impressively stacked towers of firewood all around.
Off to one side is a construction of wooden pallets and tree trunks.
I even spot a number of hair salon chairs, shampoo sinks included, all full of piled-up dry leaves.
Sun rays hit my eyes, reflected and bounced around by a series of mirrors that are tricky to precisely locate.
Good afternoon, ladies! A balding man comes walking toward us.
He’s sporting a massive grey moustache and has a big dog spinning circles around his legs.
The curly brown dog wags his tail, barking with enthusiasm at the sight of new people on the property.
He hurtles toward us at the speed of a souped-up ostrich before jumping up against me.
Picasso, off, the man says when the dog’s dirty paws make contact with my ochre summer dress.
With a grin, I pet Picasso’s soft head and gently try to fend him off. Once I finally get him to stand down, my outfit is covered in mucky paw prints that I try to dust off the best I can.
Sorry about that. The man grabs Picasso by the collar and orders him to sit. He would be a terrible guard dog—he gets way too happy when new people show up. I mean, this guy would give Bonnie and Clyde a royal welcome.
Reluctantly, Picasso sits his dog butt down on the dusty ground. His wagging tail is still very much engaged, though, causing little flurries of dirt to whirl up around him.
How can I help you today? The man gives us a kind look while he subdues Picasso with some ear scratches. Are you looking for anything in particular?
I explain that we’re planning to give our restaurant patio a makeover and a beaming expression takes over his face.
What an excellent idea, he says gleefully.
It’s so smart to buy second hand items and fix them up again.
People throw away way too many things that are still perfectly usable.
He leads us in the direction of a collection of chairs in all shapes and sizes while he draws our attention to the shorts he’s wearing.
These used to be a longer pair of jeans with holes in the knees.
My wife was trying to make me get rid of them.
Between all of the other thrift items, Picasso has found a worn-out slipper that he drops by my feet with a wiggle in his tail and an expectant look in his brown eyes.
I wasn’t about to let that happen, the man continues. So I cut off the legs and now I wear them as shorts. It just goes to show: a little creativity goes a long way.
I let out a sound of approval and pick up Picasso’s slipper to toss it out into the yard. The animal dashes after it at record speed, leaving a trail of toppled-over bits and pieces in his wake. The man barely seems to notice the mayhem as he chatters on.
This is your lucky day. As it happens, two restaurants dumped their furniture here just last week.
He motions toward a pile of wooden chairs, all painted in different colours.
I grab hold of a bright pink chair to check it out.
It still feels pretty sturdy and—colour aside—I see no reason why this piece should end up as campfire kindling.
I sit down on the chair and press myself into the seat back.
See, this is what I mean. An excellent item, but rejected because of the colour. People would rather buy brand new chairs than pull up their sleeves and get their hands a little dirty with some DIY.
Picasso comes galloping back without the old slipper, but instead with an entire arm in his mouth.
This would be the perfect opening scene to a thriller, if not for the fact that the arm used to belong to one of the mannequins a little further down.
This time, he drops his treasure in front of Mia, giving it a little nose shove.
Mia bends over, picks up the arm, and flings it through the air.
It soars for a moment, then lands directly in an old toilet bowl.
Picasso has zero issues with the questionable landing site and prances away in pursuit of the arm.
I think we can make this work, Mia, I say with a hint of optimism. We’ll have to do some sanding and staining, but they’ll be perfect once we’re done with them.
Mia nods in agreement as she picks up a green chair. They’re super comfortable, she says, bouncing up and down a little to make sure the chair can bear some weight. I’m sure I can drum up a few friends to give us a hand.
I give her a curious look. Oh yeah? Who do you have in mind?
Oh, just a few guys I know from... A blush rises to her cheeks and she shrugs. You know. Just a few guys I know. She laughs sheepishly.
The man has wandered ahead to a spot with a number of small tables.
While we lucked out with the chairs, I definitely can’t say the same for the tables.
There are maybe eight or so that could be salvaged with a bit of love and elbow grease.
The others are ripe for the junkyard. We might be able to reuse the black metal table legs, but the table tops are just too far gone to revive.
Doubtfully, I circle the tables. It really would be best to find matching tables so the patio doesn’t turn into a hodgepodge.
I’ll cut you a nice deal, the man concedes when he notices me waffling. I’m about to turn down his offer when I notice some bulky slabs of tree trunk propped up against a thick, pineapple-shaped palm tree.
Are those for sale, too? I ask, nodding at them. The man follows my gaze and chuckles.
Everything here is for sale, kid, he answers kindly. Except for Picasso, he quickly adds when he spots the dog proudly prancing our way, holding yet another new body part.
I’m thinking we can use the legs from those tables, I nod toward the shabby ones, and then use those tree trunk slabs as the tabletops. The man’s face breaks into a beaming smile as he plucks a calculator from his pocket and starts to finalize a price.
Mia slowly begins to nod before suddenly pinching her eyebrows together. Won’t we have to close up the restaurant for too long to tackle all those updates? she wonders out loud.
I bite my lip. That thought had crossed my mind, too.
What if we sold smoothies on the beach in the meantime—if Abuela agrees to switch up the menu, that is.
And fingers crossed Beatriz doesn’t hand in her notice when we ask her to expand her work radius.
I realize before I’ve even finished speaking that Beatriz quitting wouldn’t exactly be the end of the world.
Mia looks at me pensively, then adds a little shrug. It’s not exactly like we have other options, she finally concedes.
When Mia points out that one of her guy friends is pretty good at building furniture and willing to give us a hand, we decide to grab some wooden pallets, too.
We’ll use them to create a lounge area overlooking the water.
The owner seems absolutely delighted that we’re clearing out his glorified dump.
A rigorous haggling session has brought our final tally down to €1,250 and not one cent lower!
when I feel my phone vibrating in my purse.
I pull it out and see Elias’s name pop up on my screen.
My heart does a little leap as I open his message to discover a stunning view of a large rock in the sea.
The sun, already creeping toward the horizon, casts an orange glow on the grey rocks.
There’s a bottle of beer in the foreground of the frame.
Elias: Know what would make this view even more beautiful?
I grin at the screen like a woman possessed. I can feel Mia’s curious stare burning a hole in my forehead while I type my reply.
Eva: Smooth.
Elias: Thank you. I have a problem, though.
Eva: Oh no! What’s wrong?
Elias: I met a girl this weekend and I secretly like her a lot, but I’m not really sure how to ask her out.
My smile is so out of control now that my cheeks start to cramp up. I catch a quiet giggle coming from Mia.
Eva: Just ask her! I’ll bet you a three-course dinner that she says yes ;-)
Elias: Okay... Eva, would you like to go out for dinner on Saturday?