Chapter 4 #2
It was a statement, more than a question. The eyes that bore into hers told a tale she didn’t want to hear. “Sure, what’s up?”
“In private.”
Chelsea took her landlord to the back room, which was the only private spot in the salon. “What’s going on?”
“I might have a buyer for this place, but I’m not sure yet. I’m meeting him on Thursday, and I wanted to let you know ahead of time. You know, I?—”
The troubled concern in his eyes worried her, but not as much as the scramble of thoughts running through her mind about her business.
How to keep her customers, where to transition to, and how to find a space with just as lovely a view.
What it would take to afford the rent for a new space, plus the expenses of a security deposit, the first month’s rent, and new equipment if the new building needed it.
“I know you were thinking about it, but are you sure? I know…” Her hand instinctively reached out to touch his shoulder. They’d known each other a long time, and though it was business, not friendship, she was concerned.
“There have been rumors, and I know we talked. You’ve mentioned selling the building before. If it's financial, I’m sure there’s something I can do to help. I’m really good at crunching numbers if you need help.”
Jake, a small, stocky man with a beard and a balding head, looking annoyed, moved to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall.
“I don’t need your help or anyone else's. Thank you for the offer, but I can handle my issues myself. I will let you know how things go. I promised you I’d keep you informed, and here I am doing it.
Take this seriously, not lightly. This building is going to be sold soon.
If this isn’t the buyer, there will be someone else.
It’s prime property here on the beachfront.
And you should know this place won’t pass inspection.
The only reason you’ve been able to stay here this long is that I know someone on the zoning board.
A new buyer is going to come in with a fine-toothed comb and survey it.
They will have to deal with the inspectors breathing down their necks.
If you are not immediately evicted, which is a possibility, they may do it shortly after.
There are things that need to get done around here.
This place and a few other properties I own in town are killing me financially. ”
His eyes met hers for a moment, and Chelsea felt the pain of all he’d been through. She’d heard the rumors, and he’d mentioned some of them to her over the past year when he’d felt extra friendly. Rumors of things that could make a man crumble.
He had always seemed odd to her—a complex man with unusual ideas but a kind heart. She often felt uneasy around him. Today was no different. She was glad the door was open, leading to the salon where others could hear them.
“Thank you for letting me know. This doesn’t make me happy at all, but you’ve been warning me for a while.
I don’t know what I'm going to do. If you change your mind and want me to help you with anything to keep this place, I’d be happy to.
If I weren’t so strapped, I’d buy the building myself just so I could keep it. ”
“Lofty ideas. If you saw the things I’ve seen in the building upstairs, you’d cringe. This is nothing. I have to tell the other tenants and get a jump on some other things. Have a good day.”
He was gone before she blinked. “What am I going to do?”
The sound of hair dryers faded. She no longer noticed the smell of hair dye and chemicals, and she closed her eyes. As she leaned back, the wall behind her, lined with customer cover-ups, creaked slightly.
She felt the bump in the old wall press into her back, rough where someone had patched it without smoothing it out. She thought about it, but no answers came. Then Grant showed up.
“Chelsea, someone is here to see you,” Eve said.
It had been nagging him all day—Chelsea and her notoriously imperfect, wonderful salon.
He was, by nature, a curious man when it came to people.
It's what made him such a good editor. Things were coming along smoothly at the newspaper. He’d fired a few people, slackers as he liked to think of them, who could have done better or worked harder but chose not to.
He’d downloaded files and gotten the scoop from the office gossip about the place to find all the details of town goings-on. The salon, the Dragonfly Cove Beauty Bar, was the best spot to hear people's deepest secrets and learn anything worth knowing.
He grew even more curious, picturing the owner—bubbly, maybe a bit rude and bossy. After finishing his third cup of coffee, he decided it was time to go find out what was really going on. The best way, he figured, was to ask the owner directly.
The bell jingled as he walked through the door. The warmth of light, color, scent, and sound enveloped him as the shop buzzed. Compared to his last visit, every chair in the salon was taken. Women sat with curlers; others had their toenails painted—it was a lively, chaotic scene.
He smiled as he took in every detail of the rundown place. It had a charm he guessed women might like, but any real stability seemed hidden behind the sparkle. Eve, whom he’d met before and thought was just his type, walked over to him.
The warmth in her eyes was unmistakable, the humor in them inviting. “Can I help you, Grant?”
“Yes, I need to speak with the owner again. If she has a few minutes, please.”
“Oh, she’s going to love this. Are you here to ruin her day again? Sorry, I can’t remember if you told us last time—what do you do for work, and why are you in town?”
Friendship was one of the most valued relationships, and when it was strong, it lasted.
He appreciated his friends, and many of them understood the woman standing before him.
“I’m an outside contractor, you might say.
I’ve come to town to help make some changes at the newspaper.
I’m an editor from New York, and I’ve been here before.
You could say I’m here as a favor for a friend.
Could you point me in the right direction? ”
“She’s that way, but I’ll get her. She just had a meeting in that tiny space that didn’t go well.”