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We turn the corner to where the bakery was, and I see that the entire building has been gutted and cleaned. I’m completely shocked. I never saw the actual damage to the building, but I’m sure it looked much worse.
All the windows have been busted out and the roof is gone. The brick facade is intact, and the front sign is still there, but everything else has been removed and cleaned out. There is almost no sign of fire damage. There’s not much of anything in the inside, but there’s a crew working on it as I stand there trying to understand what I’m seeing.
“I’m rebuilding it for you.” Raf watches me for my reaction.
“How?” I don’t know what else to ask.
“I’ve put people on it full time, got the permitting all approved. We can build it back exactly the way you want. I know I should’ve asked, but I wanted to do this for you, as a gift. No strings attached. If you still want it.”
I can’t wrap my head around this. He’s doing this for nothing? He’s not expecting anything in return? It’s such a huge project and a huge cost, I can’t believe anyone would take it on. I don’t know what kind of insurance we had, but I doubt it would cover this kind of rebuild.
“Why— “
“Because I want to.” Raf reaches out to touch my cheek. “I would do anything for you. I love you, Caroline.”
I kiss him as I feel tears filling my eyes.
“I love it. And I love you too.”
This just can’t be real. “But what about the Irish? Aren’t they just going to come back and make more demands?”
“I’ve taken care of it.”
I look at him, afraid to ask how.
“We made a deal,” Raf adds. “This is neutral territory. Plus, I’m going to put in bullet proof doors and windows and much stronger security.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking about the extra security. But I wouldn’t say no to it.
I turn to my aunt who has been watching the progress on the building. “What do you think?”
She smiles at me, and I see the hope in her eyes. “I know you. You’ll make it beautiful.”
* * *
I unlock the front door to the South Street Bakery. Before I enter, I turn toward the camera. The photographer takes my picture and the small crowd cheers. I let the employees enter first and then follow them, propping the door open for everyone else to enter.
The photographer continues to snap pictures. The pastries behind the glass, the customers ordering, everyone milling about in our small seating area. The local paper wanted to do a story about the re-opening. A feel-good story about a small business coming back after tragedy.
A few weeks after I left the hospital, while the construction was being completed, I moved in with Raf. It’s been amazing. He’s exactly what I needed in my life when I didn’t even know it.
The community and neighborhood businesses have been supportive too. My biggest fan stops by for our Grand Re-Opening. Just like before, I come out of the back to take a break and sit with Raf at one of the café tables.
“I’m making dinner for you tonight,” he informs me.
“Should I bring dessert?”
“I’m making that too.” He smiles mischievously.
“Oh you are, are you?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll love it.”
Later that night, when I get home from work, I find Raf busy in the kitchen. He kisses me and pours me a glass of wine. I take it out to the terrace to enjoy the warm early evening air while I wait for him to finish.
He brings out the lasagna. It’s delicious, like most of the food he makes. We eat and drink as we watch the sun set across the Philadelphia skyline.
When we’re done eating, he picks up the plates and starts to take them into the kitchen. I move to help, but he stops me. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”
