Book One, Page Seven. A Blast.
"A restaurant!" said Karen Gottlieb. "What a wonderful idea!"
In fact, that wasn't what she was thinking. Her mind raced ahead to the first obstacle Jerry would have in putting a restaurant into the old Roquette's Pharmacy: there wasn't enough parking. No off-street parking at all. It would certainly be an issue when Jerry went for his permits.
But she didn't let this show in her face, which maintained a broad smile. She couldn't afford to. Her sales this year were far behind those for last year, to the displeasure of the higher-ups. This was a sale she needed to make.
"Yep," said Jerry. "And can you believe the idea came to me in a dream?"
Karen kept her smile going, but thought, uh-oh. Another flake who wants to open a restaurant. How many hours had she wasted on how many unrealistic idiots?
"Do you have a restaurant now, Mr. Wells?"
"No, I'm a veterinarian," Jerry said. "But I love restaurants, and I was thinking about opening one when I saw this space available. I've been coming here since I was a kid."
This relieved Karen, who knew that she could get a rent at the upper end of the range from prospects who had sentimental attachments to the property in question.
"Let's go in," she said. "We have to go in through the back." They walked down Claiborne to an old wooden delivery door. She turned the key and pushed the door open. A funny medicinal smell came out in a warmish flow of air. It wasn't the smell Jerry remembered. But it did smell like what you'd expect of a 70-year-old drugstore.
The old fluorescent fixtures, hanging on chains from the pressed-tin ceiling, buzzed and flickered as they lit the store up. What they illuminated stirred up no memories for Jerry. It didn't look the same with empty shelves. Jerry half thought he would still see that old Kaz Humidifier for sale above the soda fountain. He'd looked at it for years and wondered whether anybody would ever buy it. Did someone actually come in here with a need for such a thing one day and take it away, faded box and all?
"How does it look?" Karen asked. "Is it like you remember?"
"Yes and no," said Jerry. "But this definitely is the place in my dream." Jerry's attention was stolen by the sight of the old soda fountain fixtures. Some were gone, but the good old Bastian-Blessing soda spigot was still there, and all the stainless-steel dispensers for things like chocolate and cherry syrup. "May I check this stuff out? he asked.
"Be my guest," Karen said. "I think the water is still connected."
He pulled on the soda spigot's handle. It sputtered, but then water came out. He pushed it and a thin, hard stream shot out. He remembered that this was how they made nectar sodas fizz. A grin broke out over his face. "Wow, this is great!" he said. He sounded like a little kid.
