Brad squinted at her. “Paint? I took a watercolor class at school…”
“No matter. Can you clean? Carry boxes? Do office work?”
He glanced around in confusion. “Is there an office I’m missing?”
“Here’s the thing, Brad. You need money for school, right? You’re in a pinch if you don’t start earning soon.”
“Correct.”
“Turns out, I’m in a bit of a pinch, too. You see, I used to have a job in publishing back in Boston.” Here her voice faltered, but she pressed on. “And I used to be engaged. Then things kind of fell apart. As in, blew up.” A small crazy laugh escaped her. “And I lost all of it.”
Brad was staring at her like he was watching a car wreck unfold, but she kept going.
“So, here I am back home, like you, this summer. Only, unlike you, I don’t have another place to be this fall.” Leah held up her arms. “This is it. This store is it for me.”
“Wow, that’s a lot…”
“It is a lot,” Leah agreed. “I’ve got some money to get this place going. But it’s become clear to me that it’s going to take more than that.”
To her relief, Brad had not yet run away.
“What I need now are hands. And heart.”
Brad shifted uncomfortably, saying nothing. He was either on board or off, but at least he knew what he was getting into.
“So, last interview question: Have you got that in you, Brad? Because that’s all I really need to know.”
By the end of the day, they’d made three trips to the hardware store. Brad, who’d somehow managed to stay completely crisp and clean, had assembled a rough office desk out of two sawhorses and a sheet of plywood, and was sitting on an overturned bucket staring at his laptop. “The internet guy is coming out in two days.”
“Two days?”
“Best I could do. I begged. Said you were elderly and living here alone with no phone service.”
“Brad!”
He threw her a look. “Still want to open in two weeks?”
Leah kept her mouth shut.
“I’ve scanned Facebook Marketplace. With your budget this is what you’re looking at for furniture.” He turned his laptop screen in her direction.
“A purple couch?” She leaned closer, for a better look. “What is that stain on the cushion?”
Brad closed his eyes. “Something I willnotbe sitting on.”
“Okay, scrap the couch for now. What else have you got?”
Luckily he’d found a handful of better options. “Now, none of this matches, but you said you wanted that homespun mismatch aesthetic… What did you call it?”
“Eclectic.”
Brad made a small face. “Check.”
Ignoring this, Leah scrolled through the options he’d found. “Not bad. Look, this cute red pedestal table could go right in front, for new releases and beach reads! And the low pine table could go in the back for the kids’ section.” There were assorted chairs for reading, a Victorian settee in emerald velvet, and an antique sideboard. “What’s that for?”
“I was thinking that could be the checkout counter. It’s wide and deep, and it’s got that beautiful scrollwork on the legs that people will see when they first come in.” He gestured toward the ceiling. “It complements the trim and molding, I think.”
Leah looked at him with new appreciation. “You’ve got an eye for this. Bravo.”
