The last time this happened, I took a year off from college and was granted temporary custody of Peyton and Riley while my mom went to rehab.
I push out a big breath, then quickly reach down for the yellowing monstera leaf in the rainbow disco ball planter and pinch it back.
Mr. Piersanti steps into the shop with two women. “Hi there, Izzy. I thought I’d introduce you to a potential new tenant next door.”
I’m hit with a wall of Le Labo as the woman closest to mereaches out and shakes my hand. “We’d love to have you in for a class when we open.”
“When you open?” I parrot back.
Mr. Piersanti toys with the frayed tag on his quilted vest, peeking between me and the near-flawless human being standing in front of me. He’s shorter than I am, and I’m already pretty short at almost five feet four inches.
This feels like one of those awkward standoffs in a spaghetti western.
“I’m Claire. Nice to meet you.” She brushes her auburn hair off her shoulders, revealing a giant canary diamond engagement ring. “My assistant loves your shop and mentioned she saw there might be an opportunity to rent next door. Had to come see for myself what Merritt Point is all about. It’s so cute here!”
“I’m sorry, I’m not following.” I turn my attention fully to my landlord. Just this summer, he mentioned I might have a chance to rent if he decided to do anything with the building. “I thought… am I too late?”
Claire draws back, her big brown eyes meeting her assistant’s. “Sorry, I assumed…”
Mr. Piersanti clears his throat, glancing at me nervously. “Claire is a wellness influencer and wants to open a yoga studio next door.”
“Well, that space is certainly great, but now that I’ve seen the building, I’m interested in more. It’d allow for breakout rooms for healings and spa services.”
The assistant giggles, adjusting her black oval glasses. Her blonde hair is slicked back beneath a black-studded headband matching her ballet flats and leather miniskirt. “We love the bookshop, and there’s already such great female energy here. It’d be the perfect partner business.”
I’m still not following, and I’m sure it says as much on my face. I’ve never been very good at hiding what I’m thinking. “Thanks so much for coming in. I need to close soon, but feel free to look around for a few minutes.”
Claire and her assistant thankfully take the hint and circle around the shop quietly. Mr. Piersanti stuffs his hands into his pockets, then creeps closer as I walk around and place the counter between us, partly for some distance. Mostly because I need something solid to grip before my knees give out.
Feels like my thrifted Rya rug was literally yanked out from beneath my Mary-Janes.
“I had to hear her offer, Izzy.” I can hear the apology in his words, but his voice is firm. “Fiancé is an investment banker. They’re interested in buying the whole building. Cash offer.”
I grab a pen, clicking it obsessively, because the alternative is saying what I’m thinking. Namely,what the actual fuck?
“That would be a great deal. For you.”
He winces. “I know we spoke… you’re not in a position to buy the building?”
I wish.
“No, but business has been great, especially lately.” I stop short of admitting why I think that might be. “I’m still interested in renting the space next door and expanding. I’m confident?—”
“You’re an excellent tenant, Izzy. Really.” He peeks down at his loafers and heaves a sigh. “But I need something concrete before I can turn down Claire’s offer. Real numbers. Real commitment.”
“Then tell me what you need, and I’ll put a proposal together for you. When’s the deadline?”
His shoulders drop a fraction, and I find a little more room in my lungs for air. I haven’t lost the store yet, then.
“I’m not looking to do anything until the start of the year. I’ll give you until December 15. You’ll need the first and last months’ rent for the new space. Upfront. That’s eight thousand dollars.”
I grip the counter, thankful for once that my anxiety had predicted this could happen. Shit, that number lands like a gut punch.
Eight. Thousand. Dollars.
“Claire’s offer means no contingencies, no waiting.” He clears his throat. “But if you can have the deposit ready by mid-December? The space is yours. I’d rather keep the building’s character. Your bookshop fits Main Street better than a…” He scratches the thinning silver hair at his temples. “A trendy wellness yoga spa.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his brown eyes. “Keep in touch and let me know how everything is going.” Then his gaze lands on the roses on my counter, and one thick eyebrow lifts. “Your date with Jack Murphy must have gone well.”
