Author's Note: Hi Everyone! I know it's been a while since I've posted anything but I've been working on this for far too long. So, here I am and I'd like to introduce you to this Alternate Universe that I hope you guys will enjoy.

Chapter One

Introductions

Andy Flynn spent most of his life on the same street, working in the same kitchen. His favorite time of the year was when the crisp November air started to brew. The mood always changed when the holiday colors began to cover the streets and storefronts. People became joyful, merry and excited for the new things to come with the approaching new year. And there was always a definite growth in business.

On one particular morning, as he inspected the dining room, his eyes were drawn across the street, to the old bookstore that had been bordered up for years. He could see movement upstairs which he knew was converted into an apartment so many years ago. In the light of dusk, he squinted trying to make out the silhouette of what looked like two people dancing.

"Mr. Flynn," he turned around at the call tossing the white rag over his shoulder. "Chef Tao, says the ingredients for tonight's sauce didn't come in last night."

It was the new waitress, Amy. She had only been working for him for two weeks and trying hard to adapt to the job but had been struggling and apologizing repeatedly for her clumsiness. He had asked her to come in with the kitchen staff. They arrived with him in the early hours of the day—six days a week—to prepare for lunch and dinner. He hoped becoming comfortable with them would help in relieving some of her nervous energy. At only eighteen she was responsible, in juggling classes at the university and holding a full-time job at the restaurant. He was a strict boss, but he also knew what a nurturing atmosphere could do for someone her age.

"Tell him to write up a list, and you can come with me to see where we go purchase the groceries when something like this happens."

She nodded turning quickly back towards the kitchen but not before running into a table. She stumbled straightening the table and chair before she walked away. Andy shook his head releasing a heavy sigh. He would need to call upon the God of patience to help him through this. He turned back to the window and looked across the street one last time noticing the lights in the old bookstore were off again.

As the early lunch crowd shuffled in, he heard the chatter of the movement happening across the street in the old bookstore. The whispers and rumors ranged from gossip, both ridiculous and feasible.

"Hey there handsome," his eyes drifted over to the blonde, and he smiled walking over with the coffee pot in hand and an empty mug. She sat at her usual table, near the window.

"Don't you have a waitress to do that?" she grinned up at him as he poured her coffee.

"Only if you want coffee spilled down that blouse." Andrea rolled her eyes as he took a playful, yet lustful look at her chest. "You meeting someone?" Her white blouse revealed a little more than she usually did. She casually sipped at her coffee looking up at him with a telling look.

"The new waitress is no good then?" she asked as he took a seat in front of her.

"She wants to learn; I may just ask her if she is okay with hosting. But I need support from the waitressing staff and have no funds to hire someone else in that position." Andrea nodded, smiling at him. He knew she wanted to tease, tease him for being a big softy. "And you ignored my question." She looked down at where he reached over and played with the gold chain on her wrist. He looked back up at her, and she was grinning.

Andrea was his good friend, had been since his grandfather tried setting him up with a beautiful blonde that sat near the window every day. They went out on a blind date and hit it off immediately; there was no sexual chemistry, just obnoxious flirting, laughter and a friendship that was instant. They were both twenty-three then. Ten years later seeing her fidget under his glance, he just hoped whoever she was trying to impress treated her well.

"I'll let you know if it goes somewhere." She smiled squeezing his hand before releasing it. He nodded knowing the subject was over and tilted his head towards the window.

"You know anything about that?" she didn't have to look to understand and nodded her head as she took another sip.

"Granddaughter finally came around to take care of business. I don't know if she'll sell, but she picked up the key yesterday." Andrea smiled warmly at him when she noticed curiosity cross his features. "You ever meet her?" she pulled out her phone responding to a message before looking up at him again.

He was in deep thought, scratching the back of his neck before he nodded. Then he pushed out of his seat. "When we were both in diapers," he joked, as he filled her mug to the rim. "I'll have Mike cook up your usual," he called over his shoulder as he walked back into the kitchen.

"Mike, Andrea is here."

The chef immediately called the order out. Michael Tao had attended school with Andy, Tao was a year ahead and was the first kid to approach him or even speak to him. Mike had tutored him endlessly, and Andy swore Tao was the only reason he had a diploma. His grandfather gave Tao a job as soon as he turned sixteen, he had worked his way up from dishwasher to sous-chef. When Andy had taken over, he had kept Tao and let the others go. The kitchen staff would have never respected him and trusted him as the new owner. So, he allowed Mike to form his team in the kitchen. The restaurant had never run better than with Tao and him in charge.

Andy wiped down a couple of plates before the waitress took them and curiously asked the chef, "Hey, you remember Mrs. R's granddaughter's name?"

Mike looked up with a furrowed brow. "I think it was Sylvia, Sharon, maybe Cynthia?"

The names didn't ring a bell, but he nodded. He didn't remember. He was sent over to live with his grandfather for getting in too much trouble. His parents had tried everything and the last plan—afraid that he would get sent to juvie like his brother—was to send him to his grandpa. He wasn't more than twelve years of age. He was angry and blamed his parents for ruining his life. By the age of fifteen, he had learned how to run the restaurant. No privileges were given, he had mopped floors, waited on tables, washed dishes, and he worked every position in the restaurant while also learning the management side too. He refused ever to go back home and his grandpa welcomed the company. His parents came for him at the beginning of every school year but returned without him every time. They gave up when he had turned seventeen. He remembered Mrs. R's skinny, lanky and tom-boyish granddaughter visiting during summer break once or twice, but she didn't come often. The old woman would close for a week every year and visit her family instead.

When the woman passed away, the family had an intimate funeral service, and he had not seen anyone come around since. He had kept his eye on the place; it was the only place his grandfather allowed him to go for fun during school days. As he grew up, he learned to love reading and the old bookstore was his favorite shop on the block. He spent hours teasing Old Mrs. R about how he would convert the place into a bar when she kicked the bucket. He never let go of the idea, and now it seemed more of a possibility than before. He smirked at the thought walking back out to the dining room, to Andrea.

He stopped at her table, and she looked up smiling when she noticed a familiar glimmer in his eyes. "You'll tell me if she's thinking of putting it on the market?"

Andrea was a realtor, had helped him purchase his first home a couple of years ago and smaller properties throughout the years to flip and make a profit. He had made a small fortune of his own by working both businesses. Andy sent his parents money monthly so they wouldn't have to work another day in their life.

"Another project?" Andrea asked. He shrugged his shoulders with that playful smile of his.

"Maybe I can finally open that bar; we've always talked about." Her eyes lit up; he had talked about that dream since the first day they met. He looked across the street and smiled. "Set up a meeting with her. I'm sure I can charm her." He winked and drummed his knuckles against the table.

Andrea rolled her eyes as she watched him return to the kitchen. She wasn't too sure about his assumption, she had only talked to the woman for a couple of minutes but she undoubtedly wasn't the warmest person or most approachable.

After the dinner rush was over, he walked across the street and smiled at the un-boarded windows. The same books that sat on display for fifteen years remained. His curiosity got the best of him and he pushed—despite the closed sign—the door open. He waved his hand in the air pushing away the dust that rose with the wind that blew into the shop. It smelled musty and old like an unused room. He smiled as he remembered running around the large bookshelves, from the old woman after he played a prank on her. He chuckled as he took steps further inside and saw nothing had changed, besides the heavy dust on bookshelves and spider webs. It was as if time had stood still. The space always looked small because of the odd arrangement of books stacked on tables between the bookshelves. Old Mrs. R refused to put any book in back stock, said they all deserved to be displayed. He made a turn after the first shelf and was surprised to see a woman's behind propped up in the air as she was bent over sorting books. She was muttering under her breath. He cleared his throat hoping to catch her attention.

He was surprised—not sure what he was expecting, but the brunette took his breath away. Her hair fell across her shoulders in heavy waves, a naturally freckled face, she wore no makeup. He decided she couldn't be more than thirty years old, as she wore a pair of baggy torn jeans sitting on her hips and a dirty t-shirt ridden up showing some of her flat stomach. She was gorgeous, the most stunning brunette he had ever seen. He struggled to find the right words. None seemed to be charming enough. She slipped her glasses from her hair down to her eyes.

"Oh good, you're here." She smiled, which did not help the unusual nervousness he was suffering. "The pipe is in the upstairs bathroom, on the left." Andy looked surprised, but she didn't notice. He understood immediately; she thought he was a plumber. "It's leaking, and I can't make it stop." The frustration that crossed her features and the way her brow knit together had him sympathize with her for some reason. Maybe it was the striking resemblance of the woman he tortured for so many years. Or maybe the sudden, yet strange attraction he felt for her. "You said you could fix it today?" He nodded as he removed his jacket and climbed the stairs.

He found it quickly. Mrs. R would give him her spare change if he helped her carry her bags up the stairs when he was young. He heard the creak in the stairs and chuckled quickly, yes absolutely no change. Once in the restroom he made a quick survey and saw the pile of towels she used to clean up the mess and frowned squatting noticing the rusting pipe. It was going to be more than a few minutes of work. He silently thanked his grandfather for teaching him everything he knew. He made a list on his phone of the things he would need before he exited the bathroom.

He stopped abruptly when something ran into his legs. A smile instantly graced his face as he noticed a little girl in jean overalls. Several books were scattered along the floor and the top-most few steps of the stairs. She looked alarmed. He noticed she was trying to figure out if he was dangerous or not. But then after a few seconds of staring at each other, her face contorted into defense and frustration.

"Oh, I'm just helping with the pipes. No need to be worried." Andy squatted picking up the books that fell out of her hands. She watched him attentively as he piled them, one over the other.

When she decided, he was harmless she whispered, "Please don't tell Mommy."

Andy looked at the girl carefully for the first time. She wore thick pink glasses, two messy braids and had freckled cheeks—like the brunette downstairs. She could not be more than four years of age. She was the woman's daughter. Her eyes had given it away. He smiled and handed the girl her books.

She took them quickly holding them tightly to her chest.

"Tell her what? I saw nothing." Her face lighted up, and he felt a rush of pride in being able to make her so happy.

"Thank you, Mister," she hurried off down the hall. Andy chuckled when he watched her open a door at the end of the hall. She jumped on a bed and hid the books under the pillow. A pair of wedged heels appeared and he looked up to piercing green eyes looking down at him. Her hands on her hips and lips pursed. He pushed up and noticed the man behind her.

"Yeah, I'm not the plumber." Andy rubbed the back of his neck.

"The bathroom is in there." She pointed to the man behind her. He walked around the pair with a raised eyebrow at Andy.

"I'm—" Andy held out his hand.

She scrunched up her nose not offering her hand and said, "I don't care, but you should leave before I call the police."

"Look," He grew defensive immediately. "I saw you were overwhelmed and I was just trying to help." When she scoffed, he stepped forward into her space, but she did not back off. The sweetness of her perfume distracted him for a moment until he noticed her roll her eyes. He chuckled internally at her rudeness. He was the one confused as a plumber, she made the assumption, and he was only trying to help. He was ready to argue when she pointed down the stairs.

"And now you need to leave." She stood her ground not moving; he walked around her and down the steps. She followed right behind him until he was out of the shop. When he was outside he turned to say something, but she closed the glass door in his face, bolting it shut.

Andy chuckled amused and shook his head rubbing the back of his neck. Getting his hands on the place was not going to be as easy as he thought, but it sure was going to be fun.