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Shiro bent over, resting his hand on his thigh as he panted for breath. He had lost track of how long he had been running, but the sun was just clearing the treetops, and he was fairly sure it had been dark when he had left his apartment.
He and his counselor had talked about this, about how much a regular exercise schedule helped with his PTSD, and also his tendency to overdo it. The fact that he wasn’t sure how long he had been running lent itself to the later this morning.
He straightened and looked around, realizing he was in a neighborhood he hadn’t seen before. He had been so focused on running and not thinking about anything else, that he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going.
There was a ‘for sale’ sign hanging on the fence next to him, and he took a curious look at the lot. Through all the weeds and overgrowth, he could see what almost looked like a farmhouse with a wide covered patio on one side.
Curious, Shiro walked along the fence until he came to the gate. It was hanging crooked on its hinges and creaked loudly when he pushed it open. There were overgrown flower beds along the fence, flowers still blooming along with the weeds. The large grassy yard had grown nearly as high as Shiro’s waist and blooming weeds were pushing up through the cement of the walkway.
The building looked peaceful in the early morning light, and Shiro made his way up to the front door. There was a tattered closed sign on the door that indicated this had been some kind of business, and when Shiro used his hand to wipe away the grime on the window next to it, he could see dusty tables in the slanting early morning light. It had been a restaurant then.
Shiro followed the perimeter of the building, pushing the tall grass out of his way and ignoring the burrs that got stuck in his shoelaces and the weeds that scratched at his shins. He made it to the side, where the broad wooden patio jutted out from the building. The tables scattered across it were rotting, some of them tipped over and splintered, but the sun was slanting through the trees, bathing the space in a warm, dappled glow.
Shiro could imagine himself sitting at one of the tables, or maybe on a swinging chair with soft cushions, enjoying a cup of coffee in the warm morning glow, listening to his friends as they chatted about their coming day, the soft sun a pleasant counterpoint to the morning chill.
His day dreaming was interrupted by a rustling of tall grass. He froze, watching tensely for any danger, a feral dog, an angry raccoon, or that more sinister thing that always seemed to lurk at his peripheral.
Instead a black cat strolled out of the tall grass, hopped elegantly up the stairs of the patio, and flopped onto her side in a patch of sunlight. The patio was obviously hers.
“Hey there,” Shiro pushed through the grass to the patio stairs, voice quiet and steps slow.
The cat flicked an ear at him, but other than that, seemed unperturbed.
“You’ve got a great spot here,” he sat cautiously on the steps, “I wouldn’t mind waking up to a view like this every morning.”
It was a lovely view. Not open or sweeping, but rather a stand of trees completely blocked whatever might have been on the other side of them. It was most likely just a street with more houses. Shiro wasn’t sure what neighborhood he was in, but it was a neighborhood. It felt like being out in the country though, with the sun rising at a leisurely pace and the wind blowing through the leaves like music.
And wouldn’t it be great to wake up to it everyday and maybe share it with others.
The cat trilled at him, giving him warning before rubbing up against his arm. The texture of his prosthetic was apparently not what she was expecting, because she pulled back to sniff at it curiously. Finding nothing amiss, she rubbed her cheek along the edge where it met his flesh, purring contently.
Shiro chuckled, reaching over with his left hand to cautiously scratch the cat’s ears. She pushed up into his hand insistently, then seemed to decide that wasn’t enough either, and stepped into his lap to have better access to his hand. He scratched her under the chin, grinning as she stretched her neck out, giving him more room to pet.
“You know, this would be a great little café,” Shiro murmured.
The cat meowed at him as if in agreement. She rubbed against his arm and around his back, then flopped back down on her side in a beam of sunlight. Shiro laid back as well, his head next to the cat’s paws and stared up at the patio ceiling. It didn’t look too bad structurally, but the paint was peeling and it looked like some of the wiring for the hanging lights had been chewed on.
It wouldn’t be that hard to rewire, and some of the tables looked salvageable. Really, it wouldn’t have taken that much to get it fixed up and back in use, although in the near future, the deck was going to need to be refinished and restained. Not right away though. That could wait. Just a little bit of elbow grease, and he could be drinking coffee here every morning with a friendly cat.
The cat batted lazily at his hair, then pushed against his head. She was soft pawed, not a prick of claw to be felt. Shiro laughed and sat up.
“Want your spot back, do you?” he gave her ears one last scratch and stood up.
A path lead away from the patio and around to the back of the building. Shiro followed it, finding what smust have been an herb garden once, nestled comfortably against the back of the building. The gravel paths between the beds were littered with weeds, but he could spot mint, basil, and sage fighting for footing among the weeds. He plucked off a mint leaf to chew on, and continued down the path.
It lead to the remains of a second garden, bigger, and perhaps for vegetables, though it was hard to tell now. Past that and tucked among the groves of trees were picnic tables and a rundown children’s play area. There was even a hammock strung between two old oaks. Shiro wouldn’t have trusted its fraying ropes with anyone’s weight, but it was a perfect spot for one; not a sign of civilization in sight.
He finally cleared the trees only to find more trees, smaller than the ones he had been walking through and arranged in neat rows. An orchard. There was nothing fruiting, but that’s what it had to be.
Shiro could only stare, feeling like he had stepped into a fairy tale of some kind. The property hadn’t looked anywhere near this big from the road.
The morning sun was warming the air, and insects were beginning to wake up, buzzing pleasantly. The whole world felt hazy and peaceful.
Shiro liked it. He really liked it.
He stood in the soft morning light, just breathing. It felt so right being here, like nothing bad could ever reach him, and he would be safe when all the things that so often tangled up inside him decided to bite. He wanted to stay.
With one last deep breath, he turned and headed back down the path. The black cat was still sunning herself on the patio, as if to prove that he hadn’t just imagined her. He grinned at her, but didn’t stop, continuing back to the gate.
He closed it carefully behind him, trapping everything that was good inside the fence, then went back to the ‘for sale’ sign. Without any hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number on it.
“Hello, I’d like to make an inquiry about the property on Altea Street.”
“Hey Allura, could I hire you to do a consultation for me?”
“Shiro, I’ve told you before, I don’t mind helping you with your personal finances,” Allura eyed her coffee mug dubiously; her uncle had tried another experiment, something about spices or a cream substitute, and it smelt odd, “you don’t have to pay me for that.”
“It’s not that,” Shiro sounded excited over the line, which was rare for him.
“What is it then?” she took a careful sip of her coffee; it was sour, but not the worst thing Coran had made her.
“I bought a restaurant,” Shiro said happily.
Allura choked on her coffee.
“Allura, are you okay?” Shiro asked.
“I’m fine,” she took a quick gulp of water, “did you just say you bought a restaurant?”
“It’s amazing!” Shiro gushed, “it’s beautiful. There are gardens, and an orchard, and this amazing patio, and a cat.”
“Shiro, honey, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but I’ve tasted your cooking,” Allura said delicately, “it’s not good.”
“I know,” Shiro seemed unperturbed by that, “I’ll have to hire a cook, but I want to turn it into a café. I could probably outsource pastries to start with, but the kitchen is great. We could definitely make our own pastries and more. At least, once it’s renovated, we could.”
“How much renovation does it need?” Allura asked cautiously.
“A lot,” Shiro seemed unworried by the admittance, “that’s what I need help with. I need to figure out a renovation budget and start putting together a business plan.”
“You just… bought it…” Shiro was usually so prone to over planning things that Allura was having trouble wrapping her head around the idea that he had impulsively bought a business he had no aptitude for.
“You have to come see it, Allie,” Shiro pleaded, “once you see it, you’ll understand.”
“I suppose I could meet you there,” Allura agreed, “would tomorrow afternoon work?”
“Perfect!” the excitement was back in Shiro’s voice, “I’ll make lunch.”
Allura huffed.
“Well, I’ll make coffee and buy lunch,” Shiro amended, “that Japanese place you like that had the take-out bento boxes.”
“That does sound good,” at least she would get a good lunch out of it, even if Shiro did turn out to have lost his marbles, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“You’re going to love it,” Shiro’s smile came through the line loud and clear.
For Shiro’s sake, Allura certainly hoped so.
The coffee was good. It was really good. Allura hadn’t realized how terrible the coffee she usually drank was, even without Coran’s experimenting.
“You made this?” she asked.
“Yep,” Shiro took a smug sip from his chipped mug.
Shiro had righted and cleaned one of the worn tables on the patio. It looked as if he might have even taken a sander to the top to smooth out all the splinters. Their lunch was spread out on it, and the French press sat between them. Shiro had even picked up sfogliatella from her favorite Italian bakery.
Even without the effort Shiro had put into making their lunch pleasant, Allura thought she could see what Shiro saw. She still thought it had been incredibly impulsive to buy the property without having a plan in place for its management, but there was something almost magical about the light through the trees and the wind blowing through the tall grass. She could understand wanting to keep it.
“It’s amazing,” Allura took an unhurried drink, savoring the flavor; she hadn’t even needed to sweeten it, “I’m glad you’ve found something you can cook without burning or blowing up.”
“That was only the one time,” Shiro laughed, “and it was at least half your fault.”
“Perhaps that was a bit long to microwave it,” Allura admitted with a smile.
“I’ve been researching coffee,” Shiro put down his mug and picked up a pair of chop sticks in his left hand; he was still a bit clumsy with that hand, but he was getting better, and his prosthetic wasn’t quite dexterous enough to handle something so delicate, “brewing it is more like chemistry then anything, and I always did pretty well in chemistry.”
“I’ve heard baking is as well,” Allura offered, opting to start with dessert.
“Not enough, if the fire alarm in my kitchen is to be believed,” Shiro grinned, “the coffee stuff is really fascinating though. Brewing may be a science, but roasting the beans is more like an art. There’s this great local company that does small batch roasting and sources their beans from a couple different South American co-ops. They’ve done some amazing things with blending beans from the different co-ops and working with the co-ops to improve their facilities and cultivate specific specialty beans.”
Allura smiled as she listened to Shiro chatter about the merits of one growing location over another, and the variety of roasting methods, and what went into becoming a master bean roaster. It was good to see him happy. She had been worried about him when he had come back from serving overseas minus an arm and with a head full of things he didn’t want there.
He had been making slow but steady progress since his discharge, but he hadn’t seemed to really be able to find his place or purpose. He worked hard on his recovery, but nothing had excited him or kept his attention.
This place though, he was obviously enamored with.
“At least you’ll be able to make coffee when you open,” she took another appreciative drink from her mug.
“I think I’m going to have to hire a couple baristas to work the coffee bar. This is pretty good,” he held up his robotic prosthetic, wiggling the fingers, “but I don’t think I could manage a bar with it. Plus, I’d be worried about what spilling lots of hot milk or coffee on it would do. It’s water resistant, but definitely not water proof.”
“Maybe you can find someone who can bake and work a coffee bar,” Allura suggested.
“Do you know anyone?” Shiro sounded so hopeful that Allura almost felt bad admitting she didn’t.
“There are lots of people who have been trained as baristas though,” Allura offered.
A demanding meow interrupted them, and Shiro grinned widely at the black cat that sauntered up the patio steps.
“The place even came with a cat,” Shiro dropped his hand down for the cat to rub against.
“Did they charge extra?” Allura teased.
“Nope, threw her in for free,” Shiro pushed back from the table far enough to let the cat jump up on his lap, “I’m thinking about naming her Kona.”
“If you name her, you have to keep her,” Allura reached over to let the cat smell her fingers.
The cat sniffed her hand, then gave it a polite rub, before enthusiastically rubbing against Shiro’s chest and under his chin with an impressively loud purr.
“Oh, I’m definitely keeping her,” Shiro scratched her chin and neck, then covered her ears, “she’s got a vet appointment on Friday, but don’t tell her.”
If Allura didn’t know better, she would say the cat was rolling her eyes at him.
“So at this point you’ve bought a very expensive cat, that came along with a non-working restaurant and very pretty grounds that need a lot of work,” Allura summarized.
“Well,” Shiro looked just the slightest bit sheepish, “it wasn’t just because of the cat. After lunch I can show you the rest of the grounds. They do need a lot of work, but they’re really beautiful, and they have the potential to be something amazing. So does the restaurant.”
Allura could almost see it, through the worn beams of the patio railing and the tangle of tall grass, the sunlight hanging hazy in the afternoon air, and the insects buzzing happily. It was such a risk though.
A second cat appeared suddenly from the grass, sauntering up the stairs of the patio as if it was hers. Her sleek coat was a lovely steely blue grey.
“You got two cat then?” Allura lowered her hand to try to draw the second cat over to her.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen that one,” Shiro had gone still, waiting to see how the black cat would react to the new comer.
She meowed impatiently, clearly unhappy with not being petted. Shiro went back to scratching her ears and chin, continuing to watch the grey cat.
The newcomer pranced up to Allura, rubbing her head into her palm then dragging along it so she scratched her whole back.
“Friendly, aren’t you,” Allura gave the cat’s rump an extra scratch.
The cat purred loudly, stretching her front paws out and leaving her rump in the air as a clear sign she wanted Allura to continue. Allura snorted and obliged.
“Well, at least your new property came with friends,” Allura straightens and reached for another sfogliatella.
She was foiled by the grey cat jumping up on her lap. She gave a startled yelp, but the cat only pushed her head under Allura’s hand, demanding attention. Shiro laughed so hard he had to lean on the table, and the black cat chattered at him under the curve of his body before laying down on his lap with her tail hanging down lazily.
Allura tried to remember the last time she had heard Shiro laugh that way. She suspected it had been the last time he had come home on leave before the attack that had cost him his arm. Maybe there really was something to this place.
“So business plans have to start with goals,” Allura reached down to pull her legal pad out of her bag, and immediately had to hold her pen out of reach of the grey cat, who tried to paw it from her grip, “what is your goal for this place?”
“I want people to like it here as much as I do,” Shiro said without hesitation, “I want to share it.”
“That’s a good goal,” Allura unhooked a grey paw from her pen a second time and scratched the cat’s ears, “let’s figure out how to get there.”