Page 1 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

KAMERON

“ G ood afternoon, Mrs. Krokus. Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me today,” I say to the polite older woman on the sidewalk in front of her building.

She offers me a firm handshake, one that surprises me by how frail she appears.

The woman is ninety years old and using a walker with tennis balls covering the back legs, but she shakes hands like a linebacker.

“I’m intrigued, Kameron.” She glances up at the building adjacent to my restaurant, Prime Steak House, and smiles.

She’s owned it for more than two decades longer than I’ve been on this earth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. Let’s go inside. ”

I take the keys from her hand and make sure she has no trouble crossing the cracked concrete in front of the glass double doors. Slipping the key into the lock, I give it a turn, releasing the mechanism. My heart is hammering in my chest, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

I’ve wanted this building for years. Ever since I purchased the one next door and transformed it into a thriving steak house in downtown Pine Village, I’ve had my eye on it.

My plan has always been to expand. My current location is quaint.

The dining area is always full during the busy tourist seasons, and my kitchen is small.

I built it to fit what I had. My dream has always been encompassing the vacant building to the south, since the north business is the clothing boutique, and I don’t see them going anywhere.

Purchasing another building somewhere else isn’t an option, since there aren’t any available in the downtown area, and starting with a new build at another location isn’t financially feasible.

This really is my only hope at growing.

The doors are glass with an old wooden frame.

I push open the first one and am assaulted by a musty scent, like I’m walking into a basement.

I hold the door wide so Mrs. Krokus can get inside and let the heavy door fall closed behind us.

For over ten years I’ve lusted after this building.

I’ve made offers, I’ve called in favors trying to sway her, I’ve even dropped by to talk about it in person, but Mrs. Krokus hadn’t been interested.

Until today.

Getting a wild hair up my ass, I picked up the phone and called her. Much to my utter shock, she agreed to meet with me, but it had to be between her afternoon nap and her dinner date at the diner with members of her church’s Ladies Guild. I let her pick the time and prayed she’d show.

She did.

The old woman exhales as she glances around the empty space. “It’s just how I remember it.”

It’s a beautiful building. With high ceilings very similar in style to my own and the original hardwood floors, it’s full of light and love. And a lot of cobwebs and dust bunnies. “It’s a great space. There’s so much potential here, and I really think?—”

“All business, I see,” she interrupts with a chuckle. “We can get to that soon. First, I want to take a stroll around and see how she’s fared over the years.”

She extends her wrinkled hand my way, which I politely take.

Mrs. Krokus leaves her walker behind and leaning a bit of her weight against my arm, starts to walk toward the back wall.

“My Louis purchased this building for me in nineteen sixty,” she informs me, a far-off look on her aged face.

“Back then, it wasn’t standard for the women to work the way the men did.

Women were mostly home, raising children and keeping the house.

Well, I had dreams, and my Louis wanted to help me achieve them. ”

We stop in the middle of the room.

Lifting her frail hand, she points to one of the closed doors.

“Back there was the storage room. There’s a utility closet in there with a water heater that’s older than you,” she says with a chuckle.

“I had two dressing rooms on that wall,” she adds, turning slightly to the left and indicating where the rooms were located.

You can still see the different colored wood on the floor where they once sat.

“Families shopped for their Sunday attire, men found work clothes, and ladies would pick out pretty dresses. I even stocked some beautiful linens and tapestries for the home. It wasn’t a big store, but it was mine and I loved it. ”

A smile spreads across my lips as she tells me about the store she once owned.

She gives me a brief overview of the layout for Krokus Clothing before turning her attention to me.

“Department stores were a thing in the sixties, but we didn’t really feel it until the eighties when shopping malls started popping up.

One was built in Hudson, and all of a sudden, families were willing to travel a little farther for a bigger selection at a fair price.

Not to mention, food courts with all sorts of options.

The teenagers flocked to them as a place to shop and hang out.

They were all the rage back then, and unfortunately, our little store felt it.

“I raised my family here, while running a successful business. All three of my children worked here through their teenage years, because family was so important to me.” She turns and meets my gaze. “Still is, Mr. Markley.”

“I, uh,” I start, clearing my throat, “I don’t have any family left in town. It’s just me.”

She gives me a knowing little grin. “I remember your family. Your parents were around the same ages as my own children.”

I nod, swallowing over the lump I get in my throat when I think of my parents.

“They’ve been gone for several years now.”

“They have. They passed when I was living in Chicago.”

Patting my hand in a very grandmotherly way, she says, “Terrible accident that was.”

Again, I nod, unable to speak. I’ll never forget that phone call. In one moment, both of my parents were taken away in the blink of an eye. That’s when I knew I needed a change. The city life wasn’t for me anymore. I wanted to go home.

“I’m sure they’d be very proud of you.”

“I’d like to hope. They were huge supporters of my desire to go to culinary school and eventually own a restaurant.”

She glances around the empty building. “They’d love your restaurant. I admit, I’m not a regular patron, but I’ve been a few times for special occasions when my kids come to town. You have a great atmosphere and menu. I can understand your desire to expand.”

Here we go…

My heart taps a little harder in my chest as excitement sweeps in.

“Yes, ma’am. I love my current space, but it’s a little tight.

I’d love to tear out the wall here,” I inform, sweeping my hand toward the bricks separating our two buildings, “and add a dozen more tables. I’d even be able to open up the kitchen area and double that space.

I have drawings too, based off the old city engineer’s drawings from back in the day.

I understand it might not be completely accurate, but the square footage is the same, and that’s really what I was looking for. ”

“I won’t sell to you.”

My bubble pops, completely deflating me.

If she didn’t want to sell, why the hell are we here?

“I’m sorry?” I ask, hoping I misunderstood her.

The smile she’s been carrying since stepping foot inside this building slips, and a serious look full of concern takes its place. “Please forgive me, Kameron. You seem like such a nice young man, but I don’t feel like this is the right partnership.”

I want to drop her hand and start pacing, but her walker is over by the door, and the last thing I’d want is for her to fall. “I don’t understand,” I say, running my hand across the back of my neck in frustration.

She gives me one of those grandmotherly smiles, one that’s all warm and full of affection, but I don’t feel the glow over my own confusion and devastation.

“Let me try to explain it a little better,” she says, pushing off my arm and taking a step toward the very center of the room.

I wonder if I should go get her walker, but she appears to be okay, so I let her be until she tells me otherwise.

“This place, it holds a beautiful magic within the walls. It was built on love, cultivated on it. Families blossomed right here where I stand. That’s the real legacy of Krokus Clothing.

” She spins around and pins me with a look.

“Don’t you see? The next owner of this building must hold the same values my late, dear husband, Louis, once held when he risked it all to purchase this building.

He wanted it to be a place families would come together, but it was more than that.

He wanted to watch families grow within too. Our family.”

All I can do is stare at her, because she’s making absolutely no sense.

How can her family continue to grow if her children and grandchildren are gone?

Why keep this building if it’s going to just sit and fall apart?

You might as well tear it down and build a parking lot if she’s waiting on her family to come back and make something of this place.

I can’t imagine seeing this building dilapidated and a tax and utilities burden to her in this stage of life was anything Louis wanted for his widow after he was gone.

Clearing my throat, I collect my thoughts, trying to be polite and not let my frustration show. “Mrs. Krokus,” I start, but she cuts me off.

“Dorothy, please,” she says with a smile.

“Dorothy,” I state, lifting my chin. “My restaurant expansion would be all about families. These walls would be bustling again, filled with families of all ages who are here to dine. It would be the centerpiece of this place,” I assure her.

She grins. “I do understand that, but…this place won’t be built on love, Kameron. Don’t you see?”

No. No I clearly need fucking glasses, because I do not see.

Trying to tamp down my frustration, I insist, “No, I suppose I don’t.” I need her to explain it a little better than this.