She answered Will’s question with a question of her own. “Were those firm numbers on the lease?”
Inclining his head, he reached out to take her cup. “Within the range. Can’t say whether it’ll be high end or low, but it won’t be any more, or less. That I can promise. Once we parcel up the building and determine the exact square footage, I can give you solid numbers. The Main Street Advisory Board and the Historic Preservation Commission set the scale.”
“I see.” And she did. Crystal clear. Even accepting the smaller portion of the building at the high end of the rent range, she’d be nearly doubling the square footage of her current offices in a strip plaza near the railroad depot for not substantially more than she currently paid.
Kenzie followed Will from the studio downstairs into what had once been Madame Estelle’s office. There would be an office for Kenzie, one for her assistant Lou, and a comfortable reception area. An improvement already from her current location.
“Here’s the end of the line. The proposed end, anyway,” Will said. “We’ll insulate the walls, make sure everything is solid and soundproof. No worries there.”
“How do the percentages break down?”
“Roughly seventy-thirty.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, more like seventy-two, twenty-eight. If you don’t have enough space, we can always take a second look. Angel House could negotiate.”
She only nodded. Twenty-eight percent translated into something like fifteen thousand square feet. The building certainly appeared designed to be split, with the entrance in front and the recital hall entrance in the rear. Kenzie remembered Madame Estelle’s conversations about refinishing the recital hall floor, and knew that hall alone was over seven thousand square feet.
As they continued to the rear of the building and the space that would eventually belong to Angel House, Will explained the changes that would take place. He sounded like the host of any of the home improvement programs she watched on television.
“When you’re not conducting city council business, what’s your line of work?” she asked.
“I own a construction company. WLR General Contracting and Development.”
“WLR?”
“William Lord Russell.”
“Lord Russell? A middle name?” The question was out of her mouth before she thought better of asking.
He pulled a face. “My mother’s maiden name. She thought it was hysterical. Still does.”
That made Kenzie laugh despite herself. “Oh, I understand. Trust me. I live with my parents’ attempt to be modern. And all I do is explain that Kenzie isn’t short for anything.”
The dimple flashed, and Kenzie had to ask herself why she was sharing personal information with this man when she’d already decided to stick to the facts.
But Will Russell was charming. There was no getting around that. She’d have had to be dead not to notice. And this meeting was proving she definitely wasn’t dead.
A distraction was in order.
Inside the recital hall, she took in the full effect of all this space, with the tiered seating and well-worn curtains, the overhead lighting big and bulky, reminiscent of another era.
He couldn’t know that she had years and years of memories inside this hall. The short dances and cute costumes of the preschool dancers, many of whom began their dancing careers too shy to perform so older students buddied up to coax them on stage.
The performances had grown more challenging as students aged and skill levels progressed. Those shows had served as practices for competition routines and award ceremonies to celebrate hard work and discipline. By the time Kenzie had been in college, she’d danced in recitals, choreographed her own sections, taught beginner classes and emceed many of the dances as Madame Estelle had grown old and needed help.
This hall had been the one place students could shine and show off and revel in the applause of an always appreciative audience. No matter what happened during competitions, the unexpected problems, the heart-breaking disappointments, the stomach-churning anxiety and the companionable and fun celebrations, this space had been a safe place for all Madame Estelle’s dancers.
Here each and every one of them had been a star.
“What’s going to happen to this hall?” Kenzie asked.
“Reallocated into classrooms. Lots of them.”
His admission drove home the reality that Madame Estelle’s would vanish into history, her legacy and everything this studio had been to so many people would end forever. In some ways more final than even her death five years ago.
But Madame Estelle would have never wanted this recital hall to sit empty, and as Will flipped off the house lights for what felt like the last time, Kenzie thought of special needs preschoolers who would utilize this space. Madame Estelle, with her French accent and larger-than-life laughter, would likely be pleased to know new generations of children would make a home in the building she’d loved so dearly. Her true legacy lay in the hearts of all those who had danced here, all who felt welcomed and encouraged and cared for by an instructor who challenged them to dream big.
The thought made Kenzie smile.
Following Will to the reception area in the front of the building, she considered the possibility of making this her new home.
“More coffee?” he asked, and when she declined, he poured himself some. “What do you think so far? Got any questions for me?”
Family Foundations was a dream come true in just about every way. Positive Partings had begun with a solid network of professionals and her contract with the state, but a business was a business. Overhead. Licensure. Staff. Insurance. Supplies. The list went on.
Kenzie had known her strip plaza wouldn’t suit her long-term goals when she’d originally signed the lease. And she’d quickly outgrown the place thanks to her network of professionals who, like herself, believed the adversarial divorce process needed reform. Judges, attorneys, mediators and psychologists from counties all around Hendersonville kept her calendar full.
But mediation wasn’t ever going to make her rich. Despite her crazy-busy schedule, the agency was still new, which hadn’t left free capital to make a move to any place more substantial. Certainly not to a prime location such as South Main Street.
“At first glance, this deal couldn’t have been packaged any more perfectly if someone had tailored it to my needs.” Although now Kenzie suspected she had a very good idea who that someone was. “So perfect, in fact, had the invitation come from any organization other than the City of Hendersonville, I would have thought it was a scam. But everything in the proposal is legitimate city business.”
Will arched an eyebrow as if surprised by her frankness. “Completely legitimate. Cross my heart.”
Kenzie wanted to believe him.
“Tell me your concerns,” he coaxed. “I can address them.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Too good to be true?”
She nodded.
He set the cup on the counter. “Well, maybe at first glance. But the building’s really old. Renovations will update a lot, but things will still go wrong. You can count on it. That’s the nature of the beast with any building that’s been around awhile. The city will cover some of the maintenance, and that will be detailed in the lease, but it won’t cover everything. You’ll want to consider carrying more insurance than you probably do now or you’ll be asking for trouble.”
Fair enough. She could find out what decent insurance cost and
crunch the numbers. “That’s it?”
A beat of silence. “You won’t get much time to debate this decision. Seventy-two hours, otherwise the project committee will move to the next candidate on the list.”
It took Kenzie a moment to process that. “Wow. Seventy-two hours. That’s not a lot of time.”
“We’ve got to get the renovations underway. Angel House needs to be relocated before the next school year begins and we’re already pushing our luck. Can’t have the kids start school in one location then move while they’re in session.”
That made sense, but seventy-two hours? She would barely get enough time to research everything she needed to make a rational decision. Not when she already had a full day of work ahead of her. She wouldn’t even be able to begin until tonight.
She wondered if she should push for more time. He’d already said they couldn’t lease to any business, so she had to wonder how long the list of potential tenants actually was.
Then again, did she really want to risk losing an opportunity to move into this building? This completely perfect location?
To preserve some of the legacy of the woman who had taught her to reach for her dreams?
“When can I realistically expect my part of the building to be ready?” she asked.
Will reached for a laptop case and withdrew a folder. “City won’t release funds to start the renovations until both tenants sign the leases. Give me an idea about what you think needs to be done so you can function in your space.”
Motioning her to the counter, he spread out a sketch of some floor plans. “Take a look at these. I’d like an idea if I need to start knocking down walls.”
He’d be knocking down walls?
Kenzie saw a problem. “You’re in charge of renovations?”
He nodded.
Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised her. Maybe she should be relying on what she’d heard about him instead of trying to be too fair. “You mentioned spending the city’s money, yet you hired your own firm?”
“There’s no conflict of interest if that’s what you’re asking. I promise. The mayor and the other members of the council are all fully aware of the situation. We’ve worked out an equitable arrangement. Of course, you’re welcome to confirm that with the mayor or the council. There’s the Historic Preservation Commission and the Main Street Advisory Board, too. And Angel House. A lot of people to be accountable to and to govern the budget. Give any or all of them a call.”
“In my seventy-two hours?”
He smiled at that and she took a step back instinctively. She was too close to this man whose charm oozed off him in a physical wave. Way too close.
“So, do I need to knock down walls?”
Would she be foolish not to take advantage of an opportunity to create a new floor plan when the city footed the bill?
She indicated the plans. “May I?”
“Please.” Will stepped back from the counter, clearly willing to give her whatever time and space she needed.
Kenzie studied the floor plans.
Various options were laid out from barely changing anything except constructing the walls that would separate Positive Partings from Angel House to literally restructuring the main studios into smaller rooms, similar to how they’d reallocated the space in the recital hall.
And Kenzie knew right then that if she decided to seize this opportunity, she would fit her business around the rooms that had served Madame Estelle so well for decades.
Big classrooms. Smaller classrooms. Spacious and comfortable mediation rooms. And an office with a view.
“No need to knock down walls. I’d rather see your efforts spent on updating what we’ve got.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He sounded relieved.
“Really? Why?”
“Because I can get you in here more quickly. I’ll do preliminary work like the air handlers and painting, but the rest can be done once you’re in. That will give you a chance to see what you want done. I can work around your schedule so I don’t interfere with business.”
He spoke as if she’d already signed on, when Kenzie hadn’t even decided if she could make such a big decision in seventy-two hours. She’d call her parents and ask their opinion. Singular. They’d only have one. They’d discuss, debate then decide on one common opinion to suit them both. They were an excellent example of a longtime couple who had worked hard to master the art of marriage.
And her dad was insurance savvy having been the owner of a title insurance company until his retirement. He’d figure out the coverage she’d need and what it would cost.
“It’s my understanding the lease on your current property is up in April, Kenzie. Did I get that right?”
She nodded. The fact he’d taken the time to research her bore up her impression that he was personally invested in the outcome of her decision.
“Okay, so making a move is coming at a pretty convenient time for you. I mean, you won’t have to deal with prematurely ending a lease and may have only a few months overlap. Were you planning to stay where you are now?”
She considered how forthright she cared to be. There was really no comparison between her strip plaza offices and this building, as he surely already knew.
“I hadn’t really decided. This opportunity is convenient in the sense that if I wasn’t going to sign my lease again, I’d have to notify the management company by the end of this month. They require ninety days written notice to vacate.”
“Did you want to spend another year there?”
She shook her head. “Not really, but I might have stayed simply because I haven’t yet contacted a real estate agent to begin scouting a new location.”
“Why not?”
“Too busy. And I’m not sure if I’d be better served buying my own location. Real estate being what it is right now, I can get more for my money with a mortgage than a lease.”
“Except with the City of Hendersonville. Best deal around.” Those dimples again.
Her breath did a little fluttery thing in her throat and she had the sudden memory of the conversation she’d had in class only a few nights ago.
Lust at first sight?
Oh, please... Well, okay. Maybe.
Just because lust at first sight wasn’t a good idea didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Even to someone who had her inner child firmly under control.
Will returned the floor plans to the folder, shuffled through the papers with those long fingers as if checking to make certain everything was there then he slid the folder toward her. “This is yours. Everything you need to know about Family Foundations. The lease is there for you to review along with the proposed floor plans. I put a lot of contact information in there in case you think of more questions. My cell number, too, so you can call me anytime.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to hang her shingle outside this building, so the real questions were whether or not the move was viable and if she could determine that in seventy-two hours.
There was also Will Russell to consider. If the man’s company was renovating, he’d be around. In her building. Did she really want to involve herself with a man whose integrity she’d questioned enough to not even consider voting for him?
A man whose charming presence had unexpectedly whipped her usually well-mannered inner child into a frenzy?
“I’ll get back to you with my decision in seventy-two hours.” She extended her hand, and he took it.
Unfortunately, invisible sparks flew.
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Kenzie had no doubt he meant what he said.
CHAPTER THREE
WILL STOOD AT the front door of the suburban-style home, a well-landscaped yard and sizeable house that looked similar in size and style to the house next door. And the one across the street. And the one up the street. Why builders never used architects who designed houses with continuity of style rather than cookie-cutter designs was a mystery to him.
He didn’t bother ringing the bell again, knew the effort was wasted. Guadalupe would get to the door when she got to the door. She had her hands full inside. That much he knew.
He heard her voice even before the locks started rattling.
“Coming, Will. Coming. As fast as I can, which isn’t fast enough.”
Guadalupe Santiago was the only person Will knew who could stretch his name into two syllables. “We-el.”
Better yet, when she referred to him with the kids, she managed to turn his name into lyrics.
“Me-ester We-el.”
The last lock jangled and the door opened to reveal the short, rounded form of Guadalupe wearing a patterned housedress, her wild salt-and-pepper hair barely contained under a kerchief.
“Come in. Come in,” she said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No problem, chica.”
Will entered and toed off his shoes to add to the heap already in the foyer. A sacred house rule. Guadalupe didn’t like people tracking in dirt on her clean floors. Her floors were always clean because people didn’t track in dirt.
She could have covered her windows with aluminum foil for all Will cared because this home had the most important things as far as he and Sam were concerned: accessibility for a child with special needs, hearty laughter and lots of love.
Right from the Start Page 4
