A fresh coat of white paint covered the high brick walls, and the wide-plank floor smelled faintly of pine wax.

“It’s thirty feet deep from the sidewalk to the back office door,” I said, setting the ring of brass keys on the built-in mahogany counter.

Evelyn walked slowly across the polished floorboards, her dark coat unbuttoned, and stepped into the middle of the room where the morning sun cut across the floor.

“Mark always said a retail lease down here was three thousand dollars a month of wasted money,” she said quietly, touching the window frame.

“He told me my ideas were too small for commercial real estate and that I needed to stay behind the register at the tile shop until his promotion came through,” I said.