ALANI's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The email arrives three days after the grant committee meeting. Subject line: Partnership Opportunity. Alani opens it at her kitchen table, still wearing yesterday's clothes. The sender is Wyldewuuds. The company that took her building wants to talk. She drives to the address in the email, expecting the historic building with the black stone facade. Instead, she finds herself at an old timber structure nearly swallowed by vines and overgrowth. The door hangs crooked. A protest sign leans against the porch steps, hand-painted letters reading STOP EMMET OIL POLLUTION. Someone crosses out Emmet and scrawls Wyldewuuds above it. This doesn't look like a company with money to steal buildings. A woman steps out, mid-thirties, mud on her boots. She introduces herself as the founder and gets straight to it. Wyldewuuds needs the historic building for their environmental consulting office. They need the legitimacy, the location, the image. But they want Alani's café inside it. Ground floor, full creative control, reduced rent. They'll cover buildout costs if she brings the community. Alani pulls out her phone and shows the woman the photos she's been collecting. The ornate counter she found at an estate sale, dark blue with moon carvings, already set up for tea service. The deposit slips from forty-three local artists who want wall space. The survey responses from people who said they'd come weekly. The woman nods, takes notes. This is what Wyldewuuds needs to prove they're not just another corporate takeover. Alani knows what she's looking at. They need her dream to make their business look good. But she also knows what she's holding. Forty-three artists. A counter that's been sitting in storage for eight months. A grant committee that wants to fund something real. She names her terms. The café gets the entire ground floor. Artists set their own prices with zero commission to Wyldewuuds. Five-year lease, locked rate. The woman counters, negotiates, but Alani doesn't bend. Finally, the handshake comes. Wyldewuuds will draw up the contract. Alani walks back to her car and sits in the driver's seat, hands on the wheel. She got the building. She got the terms. But she built it on someone else's foundation, and that changes what it means. The café will open, but it won't be hers alone anymore. She touches the locket at her throat and drives home to call the artists.