CORY
I was making a fresh start in Chicago after living in Boston for five years. I’d accepted a job with an old college teammate, and there was another guy from my alma mater who was coming in a few days. It would be just like old times, except instead of playing baseball, we were going to be buying and selling businesses.
After undergraduate, I went on to get my MBA and worked out of a firm on the East Coast. Boston was great. I loved the atmosphere and the way the whole city focused on sports. With the Boston Marathon and the Boston Red Sox, it seemed like everyone was fit and into the health scene.
Chicago was going to be different, although they had their own sports teams. I’d followed the Sox when Harold Baines played for them. I was a kid back then, but even so, that was part of the reason I wanted to play ball myself. It would be cool to be immersed in the White Sox hometown, to go to bars where everyone was cheering them on.
Other than sports, I wasn’t really sure Chicago had a lot to offer. It was cold, even by Boston’s standards. It was wet and loud, and the quaint little streets that dotted the city in Massachusetts were replaced by dank, narrow alleys.
Still, it was my new home, and I was determined to make the most of it. That Monday was my first day at the office. I was pleased to see it had been furnished. At least I had a desk and a comfy couch to spread my work out on.
I had a view, too. Halfway up the building, I could see around some of the bigger skyscrapers. The street below me was abuzz with activity, traffic, and pedestrians flowing nonstop throughout the day. When I needed a break, I could stand up and cross to the window, looking down on all the activity below.
Of course, I was only imagining that. It being my first day, I didn’t have the occasion for many breaks. I fired up my laptop and got connected with the Wi-Fi. I finished up the last of the paperwork for the business, making sure my bank information was correct. I put in a few calls to clients to introduce myself and spent some time reading about the purchases made in the past.
My friend Gavin from college was going to be there in a few hours. He was coming in from Africa. I wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been doing on the other side of the globe, but I was eager to hear all about it. Figuring we would hit up a bar after work to catch up, I wanted to welcome him properly.
The bankers on my floor shared a secretary. Her desk was right out in front so that clients who got off the elevator could interface with her before their appointments. She was friendly and talkative, two good qualities in a front desk person. As she was showing me my office, she mentioned some of the office amenities.
“There’s a gym on the first floor, and it even has showers,” she said conversationally.
I pulled the charging cord out of my laptop’s bag before setting it on the desk.
“There’s a sandwich shop right across the street, and there’s this great little bakery down the block. If you’re here late at night, there are a couple places that deliver. I’ve got the menus at my desk.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile.
I figured a box of donuts or something else from the bakery might be a good way to welcome my friend to the office. It would also be a good way for me to put my best foot forward. Everyone appreciates free donuts, and being the guy to bring them into the office on my first day would make me stand out from the crowd.
I took a late lunch and went to investigate. Riding the elevator down to street level, I instantly regretted not bringing my coat. I was going to have to remember the wind and not just assume that since I felt fine indoors, it would be the same outside.
I hurried down the block, looking left and right for the place. At the corner, I saw an old storefront in desperate need of repair. The sign was missing, and there was an empty frame above the door that should have advertised the name of the place. A paper menu taped to the inside of the door was the only thing that clued me in to its purpose. Stepping inside, I could clearly see that it was a friendly little place.
There was only one couple seated at a table in the back. The rest of the store was empty. A bookshelf full of colorful spines leaned against the wall in the center. The lights were low, and the furniture all looked like it came from a thrift store.
The display cases were well lit, and the offerings looked delicious. I crossed the floor, eager to get the errand over with and get back to the office. I didn’t see anyone at the counter, and I was just about to turn around when a woman appeared.
She had been crouched, moving things around in the display case. She rose to her full height, sliding the door closed. Facing me, she flashed the sweetest smile I had ever seen, her tired eyes full of warmth.
Her hair was up in a messy bun, but I could still see streaks of pink and blue mixed in with the honey blond. There was a bit of powder on one of her cheeks, making her look like an overworked chef. I wondered if she was the one baking the desserts, and if so, what she was doing manning the counter.
Maybe this was her place. Maybe she was owner and baker; that would explain the dual responsibilities. I had an eye for hustle, and this girl had it in spades. But the vibe she gave off was welcoming instead of harried. Even though it was clear that she was tired, she still put on a brave face.
There was something familiar about her, almost as if I had seen her somewhere before. I knew I would have noticed someone that attractive, so I must have been imagining things. There was no way I wouldn’t have seized on the opportunity to get to know her better. Maybe she reminded me of a movie star, although at the moment, I couldn’t remember who.
“Hello,” I said, giving her my best smile.
“Hello,” she said. “What can I get for you?”
“What’s good?”
“It’s all good.”
“Is that because you made it?”
“I did,” she replied, pleased with the compliment. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I’m looking for an assortment to take back to the office.”