36. Nate
THIRTY-SIX
nate
“Take a seat.”
I did just that, sitting across from Owen in an office as opposite from Zoe’s as possible. Bare bones but with a great view of Main Street from the second-floor window above Owen’s general store, the kind hard to find in most places anymore except small towns like Kitchi Falls.
“So, how did it go?”
“Better than expected. Secured the loan on the spot.”
“That’s great.” Owen pushed a small stack of papers toward me. “The contract.”
“Already? You said on the phone it would be early next week.”
“That’s what my lawyer said initially, but he dropped it off an hour ago.”
When I’d called Owen after the hike and pitched my idea, never in a million years did I think he’d want to sell. The bar had been in his family for multiple generations according to the information I was able to find online. I was hopeful but still shocked when he called back less than an hour later saying, “Let’s do it.”
I picked up the purchasing agreement.
“I’m sure you want your own lawyer to go over it, but it’s all pretty standard. The figure we agreed on. Closing date is set for next Friday. You can take a look, especially at the employee matters in 5.16 and liquor license information in 7.11.”
I read both of those sections. Exactly what we’d agreed on.
After talking to Owen, I’d met with my uncle, who walked me through a typical restaurant purchasing agreement, paying particular attention to some of the sections that were usually sticking points.
“Mind if I read through it now? Don’t need an attorney.” I’d spent the night scouring restaurant contracts and wanted to get this signed as soon as possible. I had an idea for tonight.
“Sure thing. How about a drink in the meantime?”
“I think we’ll need it in a few minutes.”
“Scotch okay?”
“Sure thing.”
I started from the top, reading every word. Though it seemed pretty standard, it was too important to skim. I looked hard at the pre-closing obligations and read through exclusivity while under contract. So far so good. Financial statements section seemed to be in order. Same with the shareholder’s ownership.
When I finished reading it once, I went back over a few of the sections. And then looked up. Owen was smiling. He knew what I did. No hidden surprises, not that I’d expect any from a guy like him.
It was rock-solid.
And I was buying a damn bar.
Chills ran through my body as I reached out my hand. Owen handed me a pen. Flipping to the last page, I signed my name and handed him the contract.
He did the same.
Sometimes I wondered if there was any real emotion in me at all. But the moment Owen stood and reached out his hand, any doubt about whether I did, indeed, have a heart vanished. I shook his hand, relief and happiness flooding through me.
I’d just secured my future with that signature and this handshake. One I was excited about. That I’d facilitated, proving I was more than a good shot and had some usefulness outside of my role in the army.
“Congratulations, Nate. You are the proud owner of KC’s Taphouse.”
As agreed, the name would remain. As if I’d want to change a staple of the community for any reason. As a matter of fact, the theme for trivia night might be about the only thing I’d change. Don’t mess with perfection, they said. And KC’s was a well-oiled machine. It would be on me not to fuck it up.
“Thanks, man. I’ll do your place proud.”
“Don’t doubt it. But it’s not my place anymore.” He reached down for one of the glasses, handed me one, and we clinked glasses. I took a deep sip, sitting back down as Owen did the same.
“Technically, until next Friday. . .”
“Technically,” he repeated. With a long, exaggerated sigh, Owen shook his head. “Lusanne asked me how I felt about the whole thing last night. You’d think after spending so much of my time there, I would feel more sad. But honestly, I feel more of a sense of relief. I can focus on the store, some of my other investments, Lusanne.”
“You have a lot going on for sure.”
“Tell me about it. So, first order of business. When do you want me to officially introduce you to the staff?”
“How’s tonight?”
“Works for me.”
“Although I do have another request for you. A favor.”
“Shoot.”
“I’ve been a bit of a shit with Zoe and want to make it up to her. She knows I’m coming back home today but doesn’t know I’m here or anything about the bar yet.”
“Ahh, I’m with you. No problem at all. Any ideas?”
“Yes, actually.”
I laid out my thoughts and Owen, as I suspected he might, had no problem helping me out. In fact, he actually scrolled through his phone for a contact, sending it to me. “The things we do for love.”
Love. Indeed.
I was in love with Zoe, and with any luck, I hadn’t jeopardized anything by not telling her sooner. I’d screwed up our first meeting. Then hightailed it out of her apartment and the damn town, forgetting the man I’d become these past eight years.
If I’d been afraid of losing the respect I’d gained during my service, then I hadn’t learned a damn thing.
“You’re not kidding,” I said to Owen. “Seems worth it to me, though.”
Owen raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
And so, we did.
Owen, the previous owner of KC’s Taphouse and soon-to-be father.
Me, the new owner of an established bar in a town I never expected would be my new home. But with Zoe and Lucas in Kitchi Falls, and my family a few-hours drive away, it was as good a place as any to lay down my roots.
It was gonna be a hell of an awkward situation if Zoe decided she’d had enough of my shit recently to stick it out, but I was determined to make it right with her. And only had a few hours to get ready to make that happen.