Page 23 of A Clutch for Hutch
Nearly a decade later, I could smile at the image of my younger self.
After a number of fits and starts, a whole lot of saving up, and a few years off for culinary school, I found an actual indoor location for my business in an outlet mall in the middle of the Arizona desert, not far from the Superstition Mountains. On my way to look at an open storefront in Phoenix, I stopped for lunch at a store advertising charcuterie, which sounded way better than the typical gas station burgers along the route.
Although it seemed so far from anywhere, the stores were bustling, lots of people carrying bags from the many outlets and dining in the various restaurants and cafés throughout the complex.
As I sat outside on a bench to eat my mini charcuterie lunch, the empty shop next door caught my eye. Out of curiosity, I called the number on the sign on the door and reached amanagement office asking me to leave a message. I hesitated, wondering where I’d even live if I opened a business out here and how practical it would be, but then thought, why not get the information? I finished off the last of the grapes and went to toss the wrappings, prepared to get back on the road when a woman in jeans, a fitted tee, and a blazer came clicking along the concrete pathway in high-heeled sandals. She held a tablet and was looking left and right until her gaze landed on me.
“Are you Grant? The one who just left me a message?”
“How did you guess?” I flashed her a grin; it was impossible not to. “Do I have potential tenant written on my forehead?”
“Something like that.” She thrust out a hand and shook mine. “Now, what use did you have in mind for the shop? We try not to have more than one of the same thing here, so that’s a factor in accepting or rejecting your application.”
“I haven’t applied for anything yet.”
“Of course you haven’t, but you will. What did you say you had in mind to open?”
“A smoothie shop.”
She consulted her tablet. “This place has been growing so much, just let me make sure nobody else…no, we don’t have any in progress, so looks like it’s a go. Give me your email so I can send you the paperwork.”
“Wait, what?” I was in shock. “I just wanted basic information.”
“Of course you do, hun, and I’ll send it to you, along with the application, the rental agreement for your review, and everything.”
“I’m not sure whether this is the place for me, yet. Actually, I just stopped for lunch on my way to look at a vacancy in Phoenix.”
“Mm-hmm. Now, I can’t hold this long, no matter what Karma says. So, get it all filled out and back to me to process as soon as you can. Tonight preferably.”
I had no idea why karma should enter into this. It was just a rental, a place to do business, not something the universe set up. Or maybe it was. Because since then, I’d learned it was Karma with a capital K, and she was a legend locally. Hannah, the property manager for the outlets, also had a recommendation for a nice complex where I could rent an apartment not too far away. And before I knew it, I was moving in and setting up shop and living the life I’d dreamed of.
Not that it was fast, easy, or cheap.
Every penny I’d saved went into the shop, but from the research I’d done, the rent was reasonable and the help provided by management for someone like me with no experience on this level, invaluable. Hannah and her team offered connections to reliable contractors and suppliers of all sorts. Considering how much I’d been worried about those things, it was a solid-gold benefit.
Because my shop, when I accepted the keys, was empty and echoing. I needed everything. The place I’d been going to look at in Phoenix had been some sort of an ice cream spot and had a lot of built-ins already, which would have given me a real head start.
According to my charcuterie neighbor, my new storefront used to be a scarf store. No plumbing beyond the bathroom, inadequate electrical for all the blenders and such, basically no infrastructure whatsoever, if that was the right term. And putting everything in was likely going to strain my savings. Or, so I thought, until I learned some of the installations were going to be done by the management. They were going to pay for anything permanently altering the building. Like electrical and some or most of the plumbing. I was able to put my funds toward things like freezers and refrigerators and the beautiful granite-topped counter. So many blenders, as well. Utensils, light fixtures, signage… It went on and on, but somehow I managed to purchase everything from list A: must haves. List B was more of a wish list and could be filled as I went along.
The folder I’d been filling with inspiration provided a valuable resource. The black-and-white tiles with little teal diamond shapes at the corners was as beautiful as I had hoped, the savings in other areas allowing me to make use of ironwood for some of the furniture and buy delicate café tables and chairs with the supports the same shade of teal as the diamond tiles.
Even though I wasn’t making money yet and what I had was disappearing rapidly, and of course there were glitches and things took longer than planned—I’d never had so much fun in my entire life. I’d been developing the recipes for years, as well, so no worries in that department.
And before I knew it, I was moving in and setting up shop and living the life I’d dreamed of.
“Hey, isn’t this the place with the world’s best smoothies?” asked a young man standing in front of the counter. “I read about you online.”
“That’s us.” The reviewer who said that about my product was officially my best friend, even if I had no idea who they were or when they’d come into the shop. “What can we make for you today?”
“Whatever that reviewer had.”
Oops. They hadn’t mentioned what it was in their comments. I could have fibbed, offered just about anything, but instead I just hedged. “Our flavors change daily, but we also have a secret menu, if you are interested?”
Of course, he was.
How do you know you’ve truly arrived?
Secret menu for the win.
