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I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for making this happen.”
“Not every day I get to work with an old friend.”
Jason crossed his arms and walked a few steps deeper into the storefront as he surveyed the space, sweat beginning to stain his light blue dress shirt. He’d taken off his blazer since our meeting at Midwest Savings and Trust a half hour earlier when I officially closed on this property.
“Can’t wait to see what you do with this place,” he said.
My new acquisition had been a bakery, a coffee shop, and a stationery store, all in quick succession. Despite the town’s proximity to Truly United Logistics, one of the country’s biggest freight brokerage and transportation management companies, none of them made it, even as the rest of New Burlington went through a miniature revitalization. In one decade, that company had gone from obscure to industry leader, bringing a cascade of fringe benefits along with it. New Burlington did nothing but capitalize on that, revitalizing the downtown area and making it more attractive to people like me. The whole town felt sorefreshed.
“I have big plans,” I replied.
“Would expect nothing less.” My longtime friend turned back to me. “This is going to be impressive.”
“For me, or the town?”
He laughed. “Both.”
“You helped me a lot.” I hooked my thumb in the direction of Front Street Bar. “Let me buy you a drink down there.”
Jason glanced at his watch. “I can’t. Kayleigh cooked, and she’ll be pissed if I don’t get home in time for dinner.”
“Well, I’ll owe you one, then.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He regarded the space again. “Except maybe a successful bookstore.”
“Yep. I can deliver that.”
“Will be a huge change for this town since it’s only had The Green Frog.”
“Fair enough.”
I crossed to a nearby set of dusty shelves and braced my hand on it, ready to listen closely to whatever Jason had to say next. I hadn’t been to The Green Frog since I was a kid and moving to New York City after college had put it out of my mind. Even Mom didn’t mention it when I told her I was coming back to New Burlington. But these days, she was too focused on the new life she had, thanks to an early retirement I funded for her in Naples, Florida.Is it even still open?
“It’s hanging on,” Jason offered.
“Does Gwen still run it?” I asked, racking my brain for the little tidbits I remembered about the place. It had once been a celebrated and storied bookstore that brought in popular authors and regularly held book signing events. But it was also tucked away in an odd spot, a small commercial district on the edge of town limits, across from the YMCA.
Jason raised his eyebrow. “Anya Post is the general manager now.”
I started. “Anya Post? The theater girl?”
Jason nodded. “She still lives in town.”
“Huh.” I marveled at that. “Figured she would have left town a long time ago. Didn’t she hate it here?”
“I don’t remember,” Jason admitted, but his ambivalent reply didn’t surprise me.
“She wasn’t exactly in our friend group.”
“Nope.” Jason glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get going.”
We said goodbye, and he hurried out, jumping into his Jeep and driving away after a few quick comments about contractors and ideas he had to make the renovation process go faster. Now that I'd opened the building, getting it fixed up was the next step, and I expected that would take most of the summer. Still, if we could get things finished by Labor Day, I’d be happy. That would give me a few weeks to get ready for the holiday shopping season, and bourbon was always more popular in the fall. And since the New Burlington city council had made it easier during the pandemic for businesses to get liquor licenses and zoning needed to serve alcohol, I was sure this was the perfect time to open a books-and-bourbon concept.
Might even add a bacon-based appetizer menu.
Bursting with ideas, I locked up the property and trekked the short distance to Front Street Bar. Even though it was only me, I deserved a celebratory drink and some dinner to go along with it. I wouldn’t have called Front Street Bar a destination for quality cuisine, but there was comfort and familiarity baked into the rustic décor.
I took a seat at the bar. Kevin Richards, one of my old classmates, stood behind it.
