23
Katherine stood in front of the small bakery building, a pale yellow storefront with slightly chipped paint and dusty windows that whispered stories of days long past. The air smelled faintly of flour and old wood, and despite its worn-out appearance, the place held a quiet charm that tugged at her heart. She could almost picture people lining up on chilly mornings, cups of coffee in hand, their laughter mingling with the smell of fresh bread.
The elderly woman who owned the building, Mrs. Granger, had kind eyes and a warm, steady voice.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she had said gently. “I sold the shop about a year ago. Young man bought it, full cash. Nice fellow, but he hasn’t done anything with the place since. It’s just sitting there.”
Katherine’s heart had sunk a little. “Oh. I was really hoping to rent it.”
Mrs. Granger hesitated, then leaned closer as if sharing a secret. “I could give you his number, though. Just in case. Never hurts to ask, right?”
Now, standing outside the building with her phone in hand, Katherine stared at the number for a few seconds before dialing.
The phone rang twice before a deep, calm voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Katherine said, a little breathless. “My name is Katherine. I got your number from Mrs. Granger. She told me you own the old bakery building on Spring Street. I was wondering if you’d be open to… maybe renting it?”
There was a brief pause on the other end.
“I haven’t had anyone ask me that in a long time,” the man said. “But… yeah. Sure. I’m free now, actually. You can come to the shop if you’re close. I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you. I’m already outside, actually,” she said, glancing at the door.
The man chuckled. “Well, that’s perfect then. Give me five minutes.”
Katherine ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket, her heart fluttering with a strange mix of hope and nerves. She turned to the dusty window and tried to peer inside, imagining tables, warm light, shelves of pastries, and the sound of laughter.
The possibilities.
Few minutes later, a black sedan pulled up quietly. The driver stepped out, a tall figure with long strides and a casual confidence. He wore dark jeans, a plain gray sweater under a black jacket, and a pair of scuffed boots that had clearly seen real pavement. His hands were tucked into his jacket pockets, and his dark hair, cut short at the sides and slightly tousled on top, ruffled slightly in the breeze.
He slowed when he got closer and gave her a small nod.
“You must be Katherine,” he said, his voice low and slightly warm with the rough edge of someone who didn’t spend a lot of time making small talk.
“Yes,” she replied, offering a small but polite smile. “And you’re…?”
“Jordan,” he said with a small smile. “Jordan Pierce. So… you’re the one who wants to rent this place?”
She nodded again, glancing over her shoulder at the storefront. “That’s right. Mrs. Granger gave me your number. I hope that’s okay. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging. “I bought this place a while back. Planned to open something here, but… you know how life goes. Got pulled in a different direction. So it’s just been sitting here, collecting dust.”
There was a pause before he added, “But if you’re looking to rent, we can talk about that. I’m not using it, and it might as well go to someone who will.”
Katherine gave a small smile, her eyes meeting his. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Jordan tilted his head slightly, curious. “If you don’t mind me asking… what kind of business do you want to run here?”
Katherine took a slow breath, the words still tasting like a dream on her tongue. “A café,” she said. “It’s still an idea, but… something small, warm. A place people can walk into and feel like they belong. Coffee, pastries, maybe some breakfast. Just… something with heart.”
Jordan gave a small nod, a thoughtful look settling on his face. “That actually sounds like it would work here. This block used to have more foot traffic before the bakery closed. A café could bring some life back.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. “You wanna look inside?”
“Yes, please,” Katherine said, already taking a step forward.
Jordan moved past her and unlocked the door with a click, then pushed it open with a little effort. The door gave a soft groan as it swung open. A faint scent of dust and forgotten sugar drifted into the air.
The space inside was wide and open. Dust-coated counters stretched along one wall, and the wooden floors, though dulled by time, still had a sturdy beauty. There was an old oven in the back, shelves empty and waiting. The light through the windows fell in soft strips across the worn surfaces.
Katherine stepped in slowly, looking around like she was walking through a memory she hadn’t lived yet. She could already see what it could become: warm lighting, the soft hiss of an espresso machine, tables where people lingered with books and laptops, the sound of conversation mixing with clinking cups.
Jordan watched her quietly, hands in his pockets, as she walked to the counter and ran her hand lightly across the surface.
“I like it,” she said at last, her voice quiet but sure.
“You sure?” he asked. “It’s gonna take some work to get it ready.”
“I don’t mind work,” she replied. “Not anymore.”
He gave a slight grin at that. “Alright then.”
She turned toward him. “Would you be open to renting it out?”
“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “We can figure something out. I mean, I wasn’t using it anyway. If you’re serious about this, I’d rather it go to someone who has a vision.”
“I am,” she said simply. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
He nodded. “Okay. I’ll have to get a few things in order—some paperwork, lease terms, that sort of thing. But if you’re up for it, we can meet again and go through it all.”
“That sounds good,” she said. “Should we set a time?”
He pulled out his phone. “You free Thursday afternoon?”
“Yes. That works.”
“Cool,” he said. “We can meet here. Go over the lease, talk about interior stuff if you want to renovate. Maybe you can bring a few sketches or ideas.”
“I will,” she said, a bit more confident now.
He locked the door behind them as they stepped out into the street again. For a brief moment, they stood side by side, the breeze tugging at their coats.
“I’m glad I came,” Katherine said.
Jordan looked at her and offered a short smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
They exchanged numbers before parting ways, and as Katherine walked away, she glanced back once, just once, at the old building behind her. It was still crumbling in places, still carrying the weight of time and disuse. But to her, it already felt like something else entirely.
It felt like the beginning.