2. Trinity
Trinity
“Landlord?” Oliver asked. “Does Wyatt know about this?”
Mr. Hopkins smiled as he shook his head. “Haven’t had a chance to tell him yet. Feel free to pass the word along to your boss.” Then he turned to me. “Should we head next door and finish our business?”
“Absolutely.” I reached for my glass, emptying it of the last half inch of gin. Then I slid a twenty out of my wallet. “Keep the change.”
A deep furrow bisected Oliver’s forehead.
I’d enjoyed bantering with the bartender.
His accent alone made me swoon on my barstool.
But combined with broad shoulders, eyes the color of my favorite espresso, and a smile that made my stomach twist into knots like a tangled skein of yarn, I’d felt like an awkward tween facing her favorite heartthrob.
Until Mr. Hopkins outed me as the new landlord.
Oliver probably wasn’t used to having the wool pulled over his eyes like that.
Wool. I stifled a giggle. Went right along with the reference to sheep.
As I followed Mr. Hopkins through the bar, I glanced around.
Buying the building would put a massive strain on my limited finances, but at least I’d have rent from the bar coming in.
That should help cover the monthly payment I’d have to make on the contract for deed I’d be signing tomorrow.
“Here you go.” Mr. Hopkins unlocked the entrance to the space next door then held the door for me to enter first.
I stepped into the converted warehouse, leaving the hustle and bustle of the last bit of evening traffic behind.
There was something special about this space.
I’d sensed it the first time I saw it. And it had only intensified over the past couple of weeks as I’d revisited, trying to decide if my idea was brilliant or by far the dumbest thing I’d ever done.
Now, on the eve of signing the paperwork that would make the building mine, complete assurance settled around me. Like a warm hug from my grandmother, I reveled in the safety and security of my decision. I was doing the right thing.
Mr. Hopkins interrupted my silent musings. “You said you wanted to measure something?”
“Yes.” Snapping to attention, I pulled the tape measure out of my hand-crocheted bag.
“A friend has an antique bar he doesn’t want anymore.
I thought it might make a good checkout counter but wanted to make sure it will fit.
He has someone else interested, so he told me I had to let him know by the end of the day if I want it. ”
“That would look good in here.” Mr. Hopkins ran his hand over the exposed brick wall. “This place has been home to so many things. Seen a lot of crazy times.”
I nodded as I stretched the tape measure. “I bet. You said this used to be a whiskey refinery?”
“Among other things. In the 1920s it was a fruit and vegetable wholesaler. That’s why you’ve got the big dock out back. It’s hard to let it go.” He thrust his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet over what appeared to be the original hardwood floor.
For a moment I sympathized with Mr. Hopkins. The only time I’d ever had to let something go it had almost killed me. But taking over the warehouse was part of my path to recovery. Even though making that kind of a commitment to anything scared the crap out of me, I needed to try.
“What was it most recently?” Satisfied the bar would be the right size, I let the tape measure snap back into place.
“Office space. I rented out the upper floors to a few different start-ups. They all went under. But I’m sure you’ll have better luck.
It’s time for the wife and me to retire.
She’s been bugging me to sell a few of my buildings and move to Costa Rica.
” He let out a chuckle. “I sure hope they have good beer down there. I’ve gotten spoiled with having Tapped as a tenant. ”
“Oh, they will. I went down there a few years ago. Try the Imperial. I’m sure you’ll like it.” For a moment I felt the sun on my face like I was right back on Tamarindo Beach. But those days were gone. It was time I put my nomadic lifestyle behind me.
His lips curled into a smile. “Thanks, I will. You get everything you need?”
“I’m good. Thanks again for letting me in. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. After tomorrow, the place will be yours. I think I was about your age when I invested in my first commercial property.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “It’s not for the faint of heart, this industry.”
I nodded, but inside my stomach did a loop-de-loop.
What if I was making a mistake? I’d never committed to more than a six-month lease.
I’d never even owned a car. Why was I suddenly ready to take a chance on a historic warehouse in downtown Newbridge?
I rubbed my thumb along the band circling my right ring finger—my grandmother’s ring.
Before she died, she’d made me promise I wouldn’t live life in the shadows of my brothers and sisters.
Not only had she made me promise, she’d also taken steps to ensure I couldn’t whittle away the rest of my life.
As much as I didn’t understand her actions, it meant I had to do something.
For Grandma. I took a deep breath as I shook Mr. Hopkins’s hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow at closing.”
“Not so fast.” A man stood on the sidewalk, just outside the doorway. “What the hell is going on?”
Mr. Hopkins smiled, not the slightest bit rattled at the man with the puffed-out chest. “Wyatt, I’m glad you’re here. I had an official notice prepared but it looks like I won’t need to drop that off now. As of tomorrow, Ms. Ryan will be your landlord.”
“But we had a deal.” Wyatt crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge. I resisted the urge to take a step back. I didn’t want him to think he intimidated me, even though he looked like he could split my head in two with his bare hands.
“No. You made me a lowball offer and I declined.” Mr. Hopkins matched his stance.
I waited, not sure if I should stay or go.
Obviously, the men had history together.
The last thing I wanted was to start off my new business on the wrong foot or with bad blood between me and my neighbor.
Not just my neighbor, the guy with the giant scowl on his face was also my only tenant.
My gaze bounced back and forth between a carefree Mr. Hopkins and the ball of fury blocking my exit.
I took a step toward Wyatt. He hadn’t moved. His gaze cut into me like a dull knife. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“This is bullshit, Hopkins and you know it.” Wyatt clenched his teeth as he shook his head back and forth.
“Ms. Ryan, I think you’ll find that Mr. Kerns is a reliable tenant. Despite”—he shot a grimace Wyatt’s way—“your initial impression.”
“I’m sure he is.” I forced the lie through a pasted-on smile. “I probably ought to go. Early morning and all.”
Mr. Hopkins lifted his hand in a slight wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow at closing.”
“You’ll both be hearing from my lawyer,” Wyatt growled.
I didn’t have the fortitude to stick around and listen to his threats.
I gave Mr. Hopkins a worried smile, then sidestepped my new tenant and made my way down the sidewalk to the end of the block.
I hadn’t had a chance to call a cab. The bus would have to do.
Feeling around in my purse, I pulled out a wrinkled ticket.
Should be enough to get me close to where I’d been staying.
As I waited at the covered bus stop, I ran through the events of the evening. Owning a piece of Newbridge’s history wasn’t exactly an item on my bucket list. Swim with the dolphins? Absolutely. Hike part of the Appalachian Trail? For sure. Tangle with a pissed-off tenant? Not in my wildest dreams.
I’d had the chance to check dozens of items off my list over the years.
As the youngest of seven, I didn’t suffer from the high expectations placed on my siblings.
And thank goodness for that. My three older brothers were a doctor, a lawyer, and a CFO.
My sisters were a veterinarian, an anesthesiologist, and a bank vice president.
Although I often questioned if I’d been born into the right family, my grandmother had always been there to assure me I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
As I waited for the bus, my cell rang. My sister Julie’s number lit up the screen. She must have heard I was back in town.
“Hello?” I faked breathlessness in case I needed an excuse to get off the phone.
“Trinity?” At the sound of Julie’s voice, my chest tightened. How long had it been since I’d seen my siblings?
“Jules, hey. What’s going on?”
“That’s it? You disappear for two years, and we’re going to play it like that?”
I rolled my head to one shoulder, then the other, trying to release some of the tension in my neck. “I didn’t realize we were playing at all.”
“Fine. We’ll skip the pleasantries. I heard you’re back in town. Mom knows. She’s having dinner at the house on Saturday. You’re expected.”
Not “you’re invited.” Not “we’d love to see you.” But “you’re expected.” That pretty much summed it up.
“What time?” I asked.
Julie sputtered. “What?”
“I asked what time? You said Saturday, but you didn’t provide a time.
” Julie had a reason to be surprised. In the past, I would have already made up an excuse.
But I hadn’t come back to town to hide out.
I’d come back to make something out of myself.
To fulfill the promise I’d made to my grandmother all those years ago.
“Six,” Julie finally muttered.
“Great, see you then.” I disconnected. My siblings would fight me with everything they had when they found out what I was up to.
I wasn’t ready to take them all on, especially Juliw.
We’d been tight growing up since we were the closest in age.
But even with a four-year gap, I felt like the odd kid out.
My oldest brother had been graduating college by the time I entered Kindergarten. I’d never felt like I belonged.
But that was all about to change. As the bus lumbered around the corner and came to a stop at the curb, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Hey, wait up.” Oliver barreled down the sidewalk.
“What?” I asked as I stepped onto the bottom step of the bus.
He held out my scarf, the one I’d had on at the bar. My grandmother’s scarf.
“On or off,” the bus driver grumbled.
“Can you give me a second?” I turned toward Oliver. Less than fifty feet separated us. I could grab the scarf and still catch the ride.
But as I jogged toward him, the wind caught the scarf and blew it up. It floated on the breeze for a few feet before a burst from a vent sent it straight into the air.
Oliver jumped for it but couldn’t catch it. I raced toward him, ignoring the sound of the bus doors closing behind me—the scarf was more important. Even if it meant I’d be hoofing the ten miles back to my friend’s place.
The scarf caught on the limb of one of the trees edging the greenway up ahead. I reached the tree just as the bus lumbered by. So long ride home.
Oliver caught up to me. He leaned over, his palms on his thighs, his breath coming in huffs. “Sorry. Noticed it. But you’d gone.”
“Now what?” I pointed to where my scarf nestled in the treetop. “How am I going to get it down from there?” I’d done many things in my twenty-five years but never mastered the art of climbing a tree.
“One crisis at a time, eh?” Oliver stood, stretching to his full height. He’d seemed smaller behind the bar, not quite as large and intimidating.
I took a step back, suddenly aware that I was alone with the man on an isolated stretch of downtown sidewalk. Did he feel the same way as his boss about me taking over the building? Maybe I should have gotten on the bus and let the scarf go.
“Back in a flash.” He grabbed onto the tree and hoisted himself onto the lowest limb.
“What are you doing?” I looked up, already losing sight of him among the branches.
He poked his head out, at least thirty feet above the ground. My stomach churned seeing him so high up in the tree. Heights weren’t my thing. Give me a thirty-mile hike and I’d tackle that in one day. But put me a few feet above the ground and I was toast.
The scarf disappeared and a few moments later Oliver dropped to the sidewalk next to me.
“Here you go.” He handed me the scarf.
I clenched it in both hands. How could I have been so careless to forget it at the bar? “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” He tilted his head toward the direction of the bar. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what?”
“If I understood you correctly, you just missed your bus.”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“Well, the least I can do is give you a ride. Let’s go.”