Page 17 of Window Seat for Two

He trailed off, caught up in the creative flow as ideas cascaded through his mind.

Video content featuring regular customers talking about their favorite pastries, behind-the-scenes photography of Ari working with Sofia's recipes, social media challenges encouraging people to share their own neighborhood bakery memories.

The campaign would need to be professional enough to inspire confidence but personal enough to feel genuine, urgent enough to drive immediate action but optimistic enough to make people want to be part of the solution.

"Nate." Ari's voice was thick with emotion. "This is—you can't just wave a magic wand and fix fifteen years of Sofia's kindness and community building. People might donate five or ten dollars, but?—"

"Then we make sure ten thousand people see it instead of one thousand.

" Nate was already pulling up social media analytics, his mind racing through promotion strategies and influencer outreach possibilities.

"Maya has photographer friends with huge followings.

Jamie knows every coffee blogger in the city.

Mrs. V has connections with community organizations who support local business preservation. "

Working side by side at the small table, surrounded by the scent of residual yeast and Sofia's carefully organized recipe cards, felt like coming home in a way Nate hadn't expected.

Ari brewed pot after pot of coffee while Nate refined design concepts, their collaboration finding the same easy rhythm they'd discovered during their first morning together.

As the hours passed, the bakery began to feel less like a space under siege and more like the command center for something important and hopeful.

"Tell me about these," Nate said during a coffee break, gesturing to the recipe cards that covered half the table. Each one was written in Sofia's careful script, some stained with decades of use, others annotated with notes about seasonal variations or customer preferences.

Ari's expression softened as he picked up a card for honey wheat rolls. "This was one of her first successful experiments. She spent months adjusting the hydration levels and fermentation timing until it was perfect. See these notes in the margin? She was always improving, always innovating."

"So you're not just preserving her recipes," Nate said, understanding dawning. "You're continuing her work."

"I try to be. But sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough, if I understand what she was really trying to build here." Ari set down the recipe card with careful reverence. "Marcus keeps saying I'm in over my head, that I don't have the business sense to make this sustainable. Maybe he's right."

"Marcus is an asshole who walked away from the best thing in his life because he was too shallow to recognize it.

" The words came out sharper than Nate had intended, but he didn't take them back.

"You want to know what I see when I look at this place?

Craftsmanship. Consistency. Quality that can't be faked or rushed.

You're not trying to preserve Sofia's legacy like it's a museum piece—you're living it, growing it, making it your own. "

Dawn was beginning to creep through the bakery's windows by the time they had a comprehensive campaign ready to launch.

Nate's laptop screen showed mockups for social media graphics, email templates, and a crowdfunding page that told Blue Moon's story through words and images that made the stakes feel both urgent and achievable.

Ari had contributed customer stories, financial projections that proved the bakery's viability with proper support, and a timeline for the renovations that would satisfy the new management company's requirements.

"I can't believe we put all this together in one night," Ari said, rubbing his eyes as he looked at the completed materials. "It actually looks... professional. Convincing."

"It looks true," Nate corrected. "Everything here is just what already existed—community, quality, history. I just found a way to make it visible."

They climbed to the roof garden as the sun crested the buildings surrounding Maple Walk, the string lights from their first kiss now pale against the brightening sky.

The morning air carried the promise of spring warmth, and the city was beginning to stir with early commuters and delivery trucks navigating the narrow streets below.

"I'm scared," Ari said quietly, his hands wrapped around a fresh cup of coffee. "Not just about losing the bakery, but about... this. Us. I don't know how to be in a relationship when everything feels like it's falling apart."

Nate moved closer, taking Ari's flour-dusted hands in his own. "You don't have to have it all figured out. Sofia didn't build this place overnight, right? She started with good bread and treated people with kindness, and everything else grew from there."

"She also had forty years to get it right," Ari pointed out, but his tone was lighter, touched with the dry humor that Nate had come to love.

"Then we'll take forty years too," Nate said simply. "One day at a time, one loaf at a time, one morning coffee at a time. But together."

The sound of footsteps on the external fire escape announced Maya's arrival, her camera bag slung over her shoulder and her expression determined.

"Mrs. V said you two might need documentation," she called as she climbed the last few rungs.

"Also, Jamie's opening early to help coordinate the social media launch, and apparently half the neighborhood is already lined up downstairs with cash donations. "

Looking down at Maple Walk from their perch above Blue Moon, Nate could see that Maya wasn't exaggerating.

Mr. Chen stood near the bakery's front door with an envelope in his hands, while the Garcia family waited nearby with their three young children clutching handmade signs reading "Save Our Bakery.

" Jamie had propped the café's doors open and was setting up what looked like a coordination station with laptops and clipboards, and Mrs. V moved between groups like a general marshaling troops.

"How did they organize all this so fast?" Ari asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"Sofia spent forty years building this community," Nate said, squeezing Ari's hand. "Turns out they were just waiting for someone to tell them how to help."

The next few hours passed in a blur of controlled chaos that felt more like a neighborhood festival than a crisis response.

Maya documented everything through her photographer's lens—customers sharing stories about Sofia's kindness, neighbors contributing to emergency donation jars, regular patrons posting social media testimonials about their favorite Blue Moon pastries.

Nate's graphics appeared across multiple platforms within minutes of being posted, shared by food bloggers and community advocates who understood the importance of preserving local businesses.

By noon, the crowdfunding campaign had raised three thousand dollars, with donations continuing to stream in as the content reached wider networks.

More importantly, the visible community support had attracted attention from a local business preservation society and a credit union that specialized in small business emergency loans.

"Nate," Ari said during a brief lull in the afternoon rush, "I don't know how to thank you for all this."

"You don't thank me," Nate replied, looking around at the bustling bakery filled with neighbors, customers, and volunteers. "You just keep making amazing bread and being the person Sofia knew you could become."

They were closing up for the day when Marcus appeared, his expensive suit and perfectly styled hair a stark contrast to the grassroots energy that had filled Blue Moon all day. Nate felt Ari tense beside him, but his voice was steady when he greeted his ex-boyfriend.

"Marcus. I wasn't expecting you."

"I can see that." Marcus's gaze swept over the crowdfunding promotional materials still taped to the windows, the donation jars on the counter, the evidence of community mobilization that had transformed the space. "Quite a production you've put together here."

"People care about this place," Ari said simply. "More than I realized."

"Care doesn't pay rent, Ari. Sentiment doesn't satisfy property management companies." Marcus pulled out his phone, checking something with casual authority. "My offer is still on the table—fifteen thousand dollars, no strings attached, available tomorrow. All you have to do is say yes."

Nate felt his jaw clench at the implication that community support was somehow naive or insufficient, but he forced himself to stay quiet. This was Ari's decision to make, his relationship to resolve.

"And what happens after I say yes?" Ari asked. "Do you become a silent partner? Do you start making suggestions about menu changes and operational improvements? Do you decide that Blue Moon would be more profitable with different management?"

Marcus smiled like he was talking to a child. "I'm trying to help you save your business, not take it over. Though honestly, Ari, you've always been better at the emotional side of things than the practical side. There's no shame in accepting guidance from someone with more experience."

"You're right," Ari said, and Nate felt his heart sink. "I am good at the emotional side of things. I care about my customers, my community, the legacy Sofia trusted me to continue. And you know what? That's not a weakness. That's exactly why this place is worth saving."

He gestured toward the donation jars, the community testimonials still posted on social media, the evidence of genuine grassroots support that had materialized in less than twelve hours.