Page 134 of Go Back to December

“Come on, you’ll be more open-minded when you’re out of the cold.”

We scurry out of the wind, into the warmth of the main entrance lobby. Hazy winter light pours through the skylights to illuminate the black-and-white photos that frame the brick walls.

Amal shakes her head. “You would never know this was a war factory.”

“Munitions assembly operations,” I correct her. “It was World War II, and this was a prime spot on the river.”

“Why did they sell it?”

“It shut down after the war. The city eventually bought it from them. As part of the improvement plan, all occupants must contribute to urban development through arts, education, or economic opportunity.”

Amal smiles. “We’re perfect for it.”

“But is it perfect for us?”

The automatic lobby doors open. The gust from the river that blows through the corridor is only partly to blame for the chill that runs down my spine as Alicia Leary walks toward us.

When I introduce her to Amal, Alicia smiles cautiously. “I’m glad you called.”

Amal nudges me with her elbow.

“Thank you for offering to help.” It comes off stiffer than I intend, so I add, “We have a lot to figure out about the café’s future. We’re open to ideas.”

“Let’s go look at the space, and then we can talk about possible next steps.”

We follow her through a corridor that winds the length of the river. A woman from the building management lets us into a vast empty room three times the size of the cafe. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass folding doors, sunlight sparks off the whitecaps of the river. Beyond the water, the gleaming towers of downtown wink back at us.

Amal’s face breaks into a beam of white. “It’s so beautiful. I never thought I’d have an office with a view.”

What we could forge here wouldn’t be buried in the basement of another company’s business. The café would be a draw. An attraction.

“We’d have to build out everything, including the kitchen.” I gnaw at my lip. It will be so much more expensive than relocating to another commercially fitted-out space.

“It’s not ideal, but I took the liberty of contacting a few suppliers who will work out flexible payment plans,” Alicia says. “There’s also the possibility of donations-in-kind.”

“We have less than six months to bring in start-up capital and complete construction if we want to keep everyone employed.”

“It’s a fast timeline,” she agrees, twisting her gloves from one hand to the other. “There is an angel investor who can get you the seed money for the kitchen and other costs.”

Amal throws me a keep your panties on scowl, and I swallow the ire on my tongue. “Who?”

“Me.”

Alicia takes in our gobsmacked expressions and ducks her head. “I have a trust fund. I’ve been waiting to put it to good use.”

It’s impossible not to laugh. “Why would you want to spend it on this?”

“Because you need it.”

“Is that all?”

This cavernous space is nowhere near big enough to hold the unspoken question of Baz.

Alicia understands from the nod she gives me. “I regret how I behaved at the lake. I’m sorry for butting in, making you uncomfortable. But I promise, this is not about Baz.”

She glances at the river. “It’s time for me to put my stamp on something that doesn’t belong to an institution or a collection of old white men. And I want to learn how to get something up and running from scratch.”

“It’s a wonderful offer,” Amal says. “Would you give us some time to think about it and discuss it?”