I nodded. “Yeah, those have got to go. I want new comfortable seating, but still simple. I want people to relax when they are there, not feel like they are sitting in something that is older than them.”
“That sounds nice,” Mom says.
“I’m also going to redo the concession area, better layout, more options. Maybe partner with local businesses for coffee and baked goods.”
Henry looks at me. “Fancy.”
“Not fancy, intentional. I want to help the town and work with them. If one business succeeds and helps others, we all succeed,” I say.
Dad sets down his fork. “You fixing it up to sell?”
The question lands heavily.
“No, to keep,” I respond, keeping my cool.
Silence hits the table. Dad gives a small nod and goes back to eating.
So, I keep going, “I also want to add a small arcade in the lobby. Nothing big, just something for everyone. Somewhere that people can stay a while instead of leaving right after the movie ends.”
“A place for the town to gather,” Mom says
“Exactly,” I say
Henry places his fork on his plate. “Okay, so you worked in live theater for years. Why the switch to movies?”
I’ve been asking myself the same question.
“When we were kids, going to the movies was one of the few times nobody expected anything from me. I wasn’t supposed to be anything. I was just there,” I respond.
Mom smiles.
“With stage work in LA, everything depended on someone else’s vision. Directors, investors, schedules, etc. It was rewarding, but it also wasn’t mine. This is something I can build from the ground up, and reminds me of who I used to be,” I say.
Henry nods, understanding what I mean.
Dad takes a sip of water. “You always liked fixing things up, even when they weren’t broken.”
It isn’t criticism, it’s observation.
“I guess I still do,” I reply.
“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea, son,” Mom says.
“Ya me too,” Henry adds. “Just don’t make the popcorn too fancy, people will hate that.”
I laugh. “Real butter and salt, that is as crazy as I am getting,” I assure.
“Good, we don’t want the town to riot,” Henry laughs.
Later, after dinner, the house is quiet in a way only ranch houses can be. The wind is moving through the open land, and there is a deep, settled silence; all I can hear is the fire crackling in the fireplace.
I sit on the couch with a notebook in front of me, my pen tapping against the paper as my mind runs a million times a minute with all my ideas for the reno.
The money for the down payment was just my savings. I never knew what I was going to do with it, but I wanted to have a safety net. Late nights at the theater in LA, picking up extra shifts, side production gigs, not going out every weekend. Not to mention living in a shoebox apartment with a view of a brick wall instead of a skyline.
I never wanted to be in a situation where I couldn’t take care of myself.
The savings covered most of it, but I also didn’t want to spend it all; owning a home one day would be nice. The rest came from a small business loan that I was approved for.
