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He was my past. Nate, was my future. He was coming back tomorrow. I usually wasn’t one of those people who looked forward to Friday. I liked my job. And never wanted to live for the weekends. But this particular Friday? I was looking forward to very, very much.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
nate
“Take a seat.”
I did just that, sitting across from Owen in an office as opposite from Zoe’s as possible. Bare bones but with a great view of Main Street from the second-floor window above Owen’s general store, the kind hard to find in most places anymore except small towns like Kitchi Falls.
“So, how did it go?”
“Better than expected. Secured the loan on the spot.”
“That’s great.” Owen pushed a small stack of papers toward me. “The contract.”
“Already? You said on the phone it would be early next week.”
“That’s what my lawyer said initially, but he dropped it off an hour ago.”
When I’d called Owen after the hike and pitched my idea, never in a million years did I think he’d want to sell. The bar had been in his family for multiple generations according to the information I was able to find online. I was hopeful but still shocked when he called back less than an hour later saying, “Let’s do it.”
I picked up the purchasing agreement.
“I’m sure you want your own lawyer to go over it, but it’s all pretty standard. The figure we agreed on. Closing date is set for next Friday. You can take a look, especially at the employee matters in 5.16 and liquor license information in 7.11.”
I read both of those sections. Exactly what we’d agreed on.
After talking to Owen, I’d met with my uncle, who walked me through a typical restaurant purchasing agreement, paying particular attention to some of the sections that were usually sticking points.
“Mind if I read through it now? Don’t need an attorney.” I’d spent the night scouring restaurant contracts and wanted to get this signed as soon as possible. I had an idea for tonight.
“Sure thing. How about a drink in the meantime?”
“I think we’ll need it in a few minutes.”
“Scotch okay?”
“Sure thing.”
I started from the top, reading every word. Though it seemed pretty standard, it was too important to skim. I looked hard at the pre-closing obligations and read through exclusivity while under contract. So far so good. Financial statements section seemed to be in order. Same with the shareholder’s ownership.
When I finished reading it once, I went back over a few of the sections. And then looked up. Owen was smiling. He knew what I did. No hidden surprises, not that I’d expect any from a guy like him.
It was rock-solid.
And I was buying a damn bar.
Chills ran through my body as I reached out my hand. Owen handed me a pen. Flipping to the last page, I signed my name and handed him the contract.
He did the same.
Sometimes I wondered if there was any real emotion in me at all. But the moment Owen stood and reached out his hand, any doubt about whether I did, indeed, have a heart vanished. I shook his hand, relief and happiness flooding through me.
I’d just secured my future with that signature and this handshake. One I was excited about. That I’d facilitated, proving I was more than a good shot and had some usefulness outside of my role in the army.
“Congratulations, Nate. You are the proud owner of KC’s Taphouse.”
As agreed, the name would remain. As if I’d want to change a staple of the community for any reason. As a matter of fact, the theme for trivia night might be about the only thing I’d change. Don’t mess with perfection, they said. And KC’s was a well-oiled machine. It would be on me not to fuck it up.
