Chapter 6
960words
"Your boyfriend is a miracle worker," Margie said, coming to stand beside me and handing me a latte. "Since he started helping, my revenue has increased by nearly 40%."
"He's not my boyfriend," I corrected automatically, though the clarification felt increasingly hollow.
Margie just smiled knowingly. "Either way, he's special. Talented. Not everyone can look at a dying business and know how to save it."
I nodded, my gaze following Alexander. Over the past few weeks, he had completely transformed Margie's Café. He redesigned the menu, adjusted pricing strategies, created a social media presence, and even convinced Margie to use part of her wall space as a showcase for local artists—including several of my paintings.
Most impressive was that he did all this not as a high-handed consultant, but as part of the team. He learned every employee's name, understood their strengths and weaknesses, and even helped make coffee and clear tables during busy periods.
"What did he do before?" Margie asked curiously.
I hesitated. Alexander and I had agreed to keep his true identity low-key. "Corporate consulting," I answered vaguely, which was technically true.
"Hmm, he was wasted there. He should run his own business."
The idea resonated in my mind. Alexander did have a gift, not just for analyzing numbers and creating strategies, but for working with people and inspiring them. At Barrett Industries, these skills might have been overshadowed by his surname. But here, in this small café, his talent truly shone.
Later that night, as we walked back to the apartment after the café closed, the night was cold, but Alexander radiated an almost tangible energy.
"Did you see that elderly lady's reaction when she tasted the new cinnamon rolls?" he asked excitedly. "That's what we need—to delight customers, make them want to come back."
I smiled, watching him. "'We'?"
"Well, Margie's Café," he corrected, but didn't slow down. "Next step is improving the breakfast menu. I've been researching nearby competitors, and we can offer healthier options to attract morning joggers and commuters."
"You're really good at this," I commented.
He stopped walking, turning to me. "You think so?"
"Of course. Look what you've accomplished in just a few weeks. Margie's Café went from a place on the verge of closing to the neighborhood hotspot."
He looked genuinely surprised. "I'm just applying basic business principles."
"No, Alexander, it's more than that. You genuinely care about the place and the people there. You listen to them, respect their ideas, while guiding them toward something better." I looked into his eyes. "That's not something they teach in business school. That's a gift."
He was silent for a moment, seeming to digest my words. "At Barrett Industries, I always felt like I was working in my father's shadow. People listened to me only because of my last name."
"And here, people listen because you have value."
He nodded, a new light in his eyes. "It feels... different. More authentic."
We continued walking, immersed in comfortable silence. As we passed a small, closed storefront, Alexander suddenly stopped.
"What's this place?" he asked, peering through the dirty windows.
"Used to be a bookstore, closed down a few months ago. The landlord's been looking for new tenants."
Alexander looked thoughtfully at the empty space, and I could almost see the gears turning in his mind.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Just an idea," he said, then continued walking. But I noticed him glancing back at the empty storefront several times.
That night, I found Alexander at the kitchen table, a notebook and calculator in front of him.
"What are you doing?" I asked, curious about his scribbled notes.
"Just some numbers," he answered vaguely.
I leaned over to look at his notes, surprised to find a detailed business plan—for a place that would combine a café with an art gallery.
"What is this?"
He looked slightly embarrassed. "Just a crazy idea. Probably won't work."
"Tell me," I insisted, sitting across from him.
Alexander took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about the success at Margie's Café, especially how your artwork added vitality to the space. Then I saw that empty storefront and started imagining a place that's both café and gallery. A place where people could enjoy quality coffee while appreciating and purchasing works from local artists."
I looked at his notes, impressed by the detail of his idea. He had already calculated startup costs, operating expenses, projected revenue, even considering seasonal fluctuations.
"This... actually looks amazing," I admitted.
"Really?" he looked up, hope in his eyes.
"Yes. But why tell me now?"
He hesitated. "Because I want to do this with you. Your artistic talent and my business mind. We could create something special."
I stared at him, too shocked to speak. The idea was both exciting and terrifying.
"Alexander, we can't afford to open a café, let alone a café plus gallery."
"Not right now," he admitted, "but this could be our goal. We could start small, maybe host regular art events at Margie's Café first, build a clientele, then slowly save money."
His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself drawn to the idea. A place where I could showcase my work, where Alexander could apply his business talent, a place that would be ours.
"Do you really think we could do it?" I asked, a hint of hope in my voice.
"I think we can do anything, Emma," he reached across the table to take my hand. "Together."
In that moment, looking at the confidence and passion in his eyes, I began to believe he might be right.
