it would definitely be a treat. Even if the rooms were as fancy as my own home, it would still be cool.
The car appeared like magic, and I wondered how often Finn ate here for them to know when to bring the car around.
“Did you come here a lot before?”
He shot a look at me as he drove through the traffic. It was Sunday, early too, so it was less manic but still busy. “Before we were married? Yeah. I’ll still eat here a lot for business though.”
That had me humming under my breath. Finn’s business appeared to hover on the brink of legitimacy as far as I could see. I knew he had an office, I just didn’t know where it was.
Thinking that was bizarre since I was his wife, and a wife should know where her damn husband worked, I asked him, and he told me with an ease that made me wonder why I’d figured it would be a state secret.
When we made it back to my old neighborhood, I realized I’d spent half the journey turned toward him because it came as a shock to pull up outside the old salon I was intending on turning into a bakery. As that was on my side of the street and I’d been peppering him with questions, I just didn’t notice until we stopped.
“What are we doing here?”
He shrugged. “Thought you’d be chomping at the bit to get this place ready.”
When he put it like that…
Of course, he had to surprise me. He had the keys in his left hand, my fingers in his right as we walked toward the salon.
It had a wide shopfront, with large windows that made the place bright and airy, and I could easily envisage a few tables here and there for the people who didn’t want to eat breakfast on the go, even if I wanted them to be my principal market.
When he opened the door and we stepped inside, he handed me the keys. “Yours to do with as you will,” he murmured, and I released a squeak and rushed at him. He laughed and hugged me tight, dropping a kiss on the curve of my neck before he let me go.
As I stared around, I realized he’d had most of the stuff from the tea room brought here too. A lot of the baking equipment would be used, but I intended on selling the ultra-feminine tables and chairs, as well as the paintings and other tchotchkes Mom had filled the tea room with.
I was more of a minimalist kind of girl, whereas she was maximalist.
“What are you going to do here?” he asked, leaning back against the wall to watch me as I plotted and planned in my head.
I’d drawn sketches of how I wanted the place to be, but seeing it in the flesh brought them all to life.
“Principally breakfast. Which fits considering you get up really early,” I told him absently.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, you’re always up at three, aren’t you? And I know you only stay in bed sometimes for me. So, when you go to work, you can drop me off here.”
He blinked. “You’d be okay with that?”
I had no intention of opening a business and never seeing my husband—I’d work around his hours because he had a shit ton more responsibility than me, and ya know, a customer wasn’t going to blow my head off if I didn’t serve scones one morning whereas his head was on the line every goddamn day.
Not that I needed to think that way.
Him working for the Five Points was nerve-racking enough as it was without me making it worse.
“Of course,” I told him. “I figure the mornings will be the busiest.” My thumb rubbed my chin. “But we’ll be serving fresh bread until two. After that, I’m going to stop baking and the store will stay open, but I’ll go home unless there’s a rush.”
“That’s still a ten-hour day, Aoife, if you work from four until two. That’s too much.”
I shrugged. “Not to start with. If things take off like I hope they will, I’ll hire more staff.”
“Hire whatever you need. Most businesses make a loss their first year, but that doesn’t matter for us.”
“No way. I’m doing this on my own! You’ve helped me enough by taking the rent out of the equation, so the rest is on me.”
I refused to be a drain on him. I wanted to be a productive member of our household,