“Nope. I even had a friend who’s a low-level hacker try and find out.”
“You know a hacker?” I asked in amusement.
“He’s a high school English teacher with a weekend hobby.” She shrugged. “But, yeah, he couldn’t find anything. Which means they have some deep pockets to hire enough attorneys to hide what their company does.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s involved in real estate,” I said. “He offered to buy my building.”
“What did you tell him?” Brielle asked.
“That it’s not for sale.” I shrugged, trying to dispel my worry. “He doesn’t seem inclined to believe that. But there’s not enough money on this earth to get me to sell my dad’s building.”
Chapter28
I parkedthe car on the main strip at the end of the block, across the street from the building that had just been sold. I’d woken up early, sometime around five, unable to sleep. I refused to toss and turn, so I’d gotten up, had my usual bout of morning sickness, and then had eaten the rest of the pulled pork and slaw for breakfast.
Then I’d gone for a drive.
My mind wandered as I drove to the street of my bakery. The neighborhood was quiet, and the shops hadn’t opened for business yet. The area had changed over the years. When I was a kid, there had been a butcher shop, a shoe store and a textile warehouse among others on the block.
Now it looked…
Posh. Well, on the verge of being posh.
Before, when my dad still had his workshop, it had been grittier. Never truly dangerous, but rougher. Now, several buildings had been painted. Signs had been restored, and it was clear that money was beginning to flow into the area.
Changes had been occurring, but I hadn’t really noticed until now. I’d been so lost in my grief that I’d thrown myself into the bakery. I didn’t even truly know my neighbors in the area.
An older woman turned the corner and stopped in front of the building that had been sold. After a moment, she pulled a set of keys from her black jacket.
I was out of the car before I could think twice.
“Excuse me,” I called.
She jumped, dropping her keys. She was clearly surprised by my sudden appearance.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I approached slowly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The woman relaxed when she saw me. She bent down to scoop up her keys. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here at this hour.”
“I own the bakery across the street.” I pointed to the building.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Ella Alcott. This is—was—my store. I’m just here to—I left something.” She hastily turned her head and wiped her eye.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked her.
“That would be so nice,” she nearly blubbered. “Let me just…”
“I’ll be over at the bakery,” I said. “Take your time.”
I crossed the street and headed to the bakery. TheGrade Pendingsign pissed me off to no end. So did the torn-up street out front.
I probably should’ve texted Duke, but it was still early in the morning, and I didn’t plan on being here long.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the front door, and I went to let Ella in. She stepped inside, carrying a beige tote bag, and looked around.
“Cute place,” she murmured. She walked to the far wall and peered at the framed photograph. “Who’s this?”
“My dad,” I explained. “This used to be his leather workshop. When he died, I turned the building into a bakery.”