Page 67 of Do It With Me

CHAPTER 29

ELLORA

I kept the store closed for a week after the funeral. I just couldn’t do it. Every time I thought about unlocking the door and turning on the lights, continuing as if she’d never been here at all, I’d started crying again.

My mother had loved Second Story. She’d helped me with it so much over the years, always supporting me no matter what. Most moms probably wouldn’t have encouraged their children to open up a vintage thrift store in this day and age, but my mom had been all in from the word go.

Some of the last inventory she’d sorted was still on the shelves. Going back felt like reopening a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal.

Eventually though, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. Holden had gone back to work after the funeral, Bree had been assigned a new patient, and with almost all the money from the date gone to medical bills, medications, home care, and bills that had been overdue, I couldn’t really afford to keep the doors shut any longer.

Still, walking up to the building was worse than I’d imagined. Josie’s bakery was already shut down, the windows boarded up and the air in front of it stale instead of brimming with the scent of cinnamon rolls, coffee, and croissants.

It was like some kind of cruel joke that she was gone too, but she wasn’t even the only one. A few of the other storefronts I’d known and loved had suffered the same fate, the whole block looking tired and less alive than it had the last time I’d been here.

My chest ached so bad, I felt like I’d been kicked in the ribs by a donkey. Part of me considered turning around and just heading back home right then, but I’d already made it this far, so I climbed the stairs to my store and unlocked the door. Reminders of how fragile life was were absolutely everywhere I looked.

Dust motes floated in the faint sunlight streaming in through the windows, but nothing was the same anymore. Mom was gone. The bakery was gone, and maybe soon, this place would be too. It was already too much to bear, but fate being the witch she was, that wasn’t even all. Like a bad infomercial, there was more to come.

An envelope had come in the mail while I’d been gone. I was sifting through the stack lying just inside my door when I saw it. The inevitable had finally arrived. The letter was printed on thick paper, the letterhead all elegant and official.

My stomach dropped before I even unfolded it. All because of the name printed in the corner of the envelope.

The Renewal Initiative.

That was what they were calling it. Under any other circumstances, I might’ve found it ironic to the point of being hilarious that they’d chosen that name. There was nothing renewing about what they were planning.

They would just be tearing everything down and putting up sleek, glassy buildings full of people who had never known this neighborhood the way we did. People who had never stopped to chat after buying a muffin. People whose kids had never come in to show off their report cards at the end of the year or choose a prom dress they wanted me to tailor from my vintage section.

It was just another developer with deep pockets and zero heart. My fingers trembled as I slowly pulled down on the bottom fold and stared at the offer they’d sent. A deep-seated mix of grief and fury twisted inside me.

Just like they’d done with everyone else, they wanted to buy out my lease, but they were offering me the chance to take up a new lease once the development was complete. All of which was code for them wanting to wipe the slate clean and pretend this street had never existed while appeasing us with the possibility of new store space we would never be able to afford.

Naturally, they’d included the necessary paperwork with the letter. There was a full agreement, already neatly tabbed with bright little stickers marking where I should sign, like I was some kind of idiot who wouldn’t be able to find the lines on her own.

Sinking into the chair behind my register, I finally felt the tears starting to build behind my eyes. The money they were offering was laughable. It wasn’t even enough to cover the cost of moving all my inventory, let alone finding a new place to rent. It also wouldn’t pay for a month’s deposit on any other decent space in the city.

They really thought I’d just roll over and take it. The arrogance of that letter practically oozed off the page in the tone they’d used.

We trust you’ll find this a fair and generous offer, as if they were doing me some huge favor. Those cheerful little stickers were suddenly enough to make my blood boil, like they were saying, Don’t worry your pretty head about the details. Just sign here, and we’ll take care of everything.

Yeah. They’d take care of everything alright. By bulldozing everything that made this place a community, everything that made it special, and everything we’d all worked for. But sure, of course it’s a fair and generous offer. I mean, as long as you put it in a letter, it’s got to be true, right?

I shoved the papers back into the envelope, only just resisting the urge to set the whole thing on fire. The thought that soon, I might have no choice but to accept the offer made my stomach burn with rage, but I couldn’t ignore my reality forever.

For a long time after, I just sat there, staring at the envelope and wondering how it was possible that this was really happening. A month ago, the whole thing had been a rumor, something people had whispered about when they’d passed each other on the street.

Now, Josie was already so far gone that it was like she’d never been downstairs at all. Mr. Karabekian had probably already signed on the dotted line, and with so many shop owners already clearing out, it was only a matter of time before the rest followed.

Clearly, these developers didn’t mess around. They’d put our block in their crosshairs and fired, and their aim had been true. They’d taken down everything we’d built here with just that one shot. The neighborhood was broken and bleeding, and no one was coming to save us.

For the umpteenth time, I thought about calling Holden and finding out what he knew about these people. Only this time, the thought went from being a desperate, vague plea in the back of my mind to a conscious consideration.

He was a big-time developer in this city. Surely, he would know whoever was behind this absurdly named Renewal Initiative. He might even have some clout with them.

Yet, as tempting as it was to make the call, I didn’t do it. I just kept sitting behind my register, staring at the offer and wondering if I, like everyone else, should simply accept that this chapter was over.

Still, before I even considered signing anything, I was going to have one goddamn Second Story Sunday.