I stand outside the old boarded up restaurant, shivering under the bright sun that gives more light than heat on these crisp winter days. Blair isn’t here yet, but he’s not late. It’s more like I’m super early. I want to take in a few more features of this place so I can be decisive when he and his backer arrive.

I glance up at the vertical sign above the black and white striped awning at the entrance.

It reads Michelina’s in big block letters. Already I can see the name I chose. Douce Bonté. Blair wants me to add something to the name that links it to his restaurant. It’s not a bad idea, and he’s flexible. So far, he’s suggested Gauche du Sud. Not too bad a name, if I’m being honest.

As they’ll probably be a while, I test the front doors. The realtor was here a few minutes before me and had to rush to an open house. Thankfully, he left it open for me. Our deal is not at the top of most realtors’ lists. The residential real estate market is booming these days. Larger commercial spaces are too. Smaller restaurants and specialized retail units, not so much. But I can leverage the soft market for this restaurant lease.

Stepping inside, I stand in the foyer for a while, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I look around at the worn hardwood and dusty blinds that hang in the two large windows at each side of the front double doors. Interior design isn’t in my blood, but I’ve been scrapbooking my dream restaurant and catering kitchen since I started going to college. For me, it’s easy to picture how bright and airy this foyer can be with new floors, pot lighting, drywall, and a few fresh coats of paint. A few pieces of artwork couldn’t hurt either. And flowers.

Beyond the foyer, I take a quick look at the row of stacked tables and chairs against the red painted wall. For a former Italian restaurant, the space is cramped and dark. With this many tables, it’d take effort for patrons to file in and be seated. It’d be a pain for wait staff and servers too. If we go with this location, the first thing I’ll do is split the dinner schedule to a six o’clock sitting and one at eight. I’ll cut the number of patrons per sitting as well, to add space and make it more intimate.

“Are you in here, Emily?” Blair shouts from the front door.

“Yes,” I answer.

He walks in with his middle-aged business partner, Jeffrey. “Would it hurt the realtor to take off a few layers of all this dust and grime?” he asks rhetorically.

“I’ve seen worse,” Jeffrey says. “More dust can be a good sign. It sends the novices packing. But visionaries can see past that nasty layer and figure out what features and characteristics are a keeper.”

“Fair enough.”

“So, what do the two of you think?” Jeffrey asks.

“It has potential,” I answer. “But the kitchen and fridge layouts are the deal breaker.”

“Let’s take a look see. Remind me before we leave that I need to take a picture of us under that sign outside. It’d make a great before and after, depending. Customers eat that shit up, old black and white portraits of real-life, present-day people.”

I can’t help but feel excited. Blair’s enthusiasm will go a long way in this joint venture. He’s supported me like family from day one. I won’t take this opportunity for granted.

All I want is to make him proud to have picked me straight out of culinary school. Whatever it was he saw in me, I hope I continue to live up to it.

Jeffrey makes it to the kitchen entrance and holds it open for me to go in first. As an investor, he’s probably done this many times before. The man pulls out a big, rugged flashlight from the side pocket of his winter jacket. Thank goodness for that, because without it, the boarded-up kitchen space would be pitch black.

“Maybe you should go first,” I suggest. “As you’re prepared.”

He smiles. As he points the beam up toward the ceiling, something up there moves. I’m ready to bail.

“What was that?”

“Probably birds. Or bats. Nothing too hard to get rid of. What you don’t want is a colony of mice, or worse, rats.” He flashes the beam at the floor ahead of him. “I doubt it’s a problem here.”

“Let’s take a look at the equipment and walk-in fridge before I lose my nerve,” I tell him.

A quick check of the equipment is encouraging. Underneath the dust and bird droppings is stainless steel everything. And the model numbers of all the installations show as twelve years of age or less. Although the power is shut off because the building is vacant, the walk-in fridge is even practically new, with shelving that must’ve been installed in the last few years.

“With a good cleaning and some minor renovations, this space can shine,” Blair says from behind us. “How do you feel, Emily?”

“I’m willing to do that.”

“We’ll ensure there’s a reserve we hold back for fixes. The owners might be willing to credit us those costs as well.”

“You brought your van, right?”

“Yes,” Blair answers and hands me the keys. “It’s a few cars down the street.”

“I just want to try something at one of the prep stations. I think I left some disinfecting wipes in the back.”

“Go for it.”

I find the wipes where we keep them stored and hurry back inside. “Can you point the light over here a minute?”

Jeffrey does, and I spend the next couple of minutes scrubbing one counter. We do the same at the stove top burners, on the walls of one section of the walk-in fridge, and on the floor in the middle of the open concept wait staff space.

Every spot is gleaming. Even the floors appear to be relatively new.

I smile. “You were right, Jeffrey.”

“This is why it’s a good idea never to ask a realtor to stage commercial space. If this place were spruced up even a little, it would’ve been off the market ages ago. Better for us.”

“I think this space can work.”

“Great. Let’s get going. We can talk offer details in the car.”

Within an hour of walking through this commercial restaurant space, Blair, Jeffrey and I have our ducks in a row.

We agree on the lease offer price and terms to take to the realtor, the ownership share between the three of us, and of equal importance, we arrive at a name.

Douce Bonté, with tagline Le Restaurant Gauche du Sud.

It’s perfect.

I can’t wait to give Dylan the good news.