“Director Manuel, here’s the thing. You see, I’m here in the city to make a living. I have no skills and no household registration, so it’s hard to find a job. I was thinking of starting a small business. It’s getting colder, and it’s becoming increasingly inconvenient to set up a stall on the street. I want to expand a bit so that my relatives at home can have something to do, and I thought about opening a store… I heard that the three vacant storefronts at No. 45, Pinnacle Road, belong to the National Cotton Mill. I was hoping you could help me see if the factory would agree to rent them to me for my store.”
The small building on Pinnacle Road?
Manuel had a deep impression of it.
That place had been empty for over a year. Originally, National Cotton Mill No. 3 had set up a sales outlet there to sell the textiles produced in the factory. In reality, it was just a facade created by the previous factory; the market could only absorb as much as the factory produced, and with exports, there was no time to dabble in retail.
Later, it was said that the building was private property, and the state planned to return it to the original owner. That small building stood there alone, and everyone wanted to fight for it when it came to housing distribution. Everyone thought it was a standalone building and refused to give an inch. The factory got tired of the hassle and simply left the building temporarily vacant… It had been over a year, and if William hadn’t mentioned it, Manuel would have almost forgotten about it.
He had heard of private individuals renting buildings from units for business; those quick-moving individual businesses had already opened.
Manuel pondered whether this matter could be resolved and casually asked, “What kind of business do you plan to run?”
“Clothing sales.”
William didn’t hide anything, and Manuel thought to himself, selling clothes in a commercial city?
Clothing factories were everywhere, and this place was the least short of clothes. However, competition was fierce if one wanted to do well in business. He initially wanted to give William a few pointers but was afraid William might misunderstand, so he fell silent.
His mother urged him, “Can’t this be done? It’s just sitting there empty anyway, and the factory doesn’t let workers live there. You just need to handle this matter and decide to rent it to Gabriel!”
Manuel shook his head, “Mom, things aren’t as simple as you say. I can make decisions on behalf of the factory, but the ownership of this building is disputed… We still haven’t clarified who it belongs to.”
Manuel was in a difficult position, and William could see that things were complicated. However, he knew that Manuel was willing to help. William didn’t understand the property rights dispute; he only knew that the buildings in the city were state-owned, belonging to units like National Cotton Mill. If National Cotton Mill said someone could open a store, then they could open a store. It was right to come directly to Deputy Director Manuel for this.
Once Deputy Director Manuel agreed, everything else would be easier.
William had now made a name for himself in front of the leaders of the mill.
The storefronts were three adjacent ones, and from the beginning, Whitaker Scarlett had never considered renting just one. If someone saw that her clothing store was doing well and opened another next to her, that would be a real headache.
If they were going to rent, they should rent all three.
When Manuel’s father returned from the hospital, William carried him upstairs again. Manuel was indeed busy; he came to eat a plate of dumplings and chat with William for half an hour before leaving.
When William saw Whitaker Scarlett again, he told her that they had a 50% chance of securing the rental.
“Director Manuel is quite easy to talk to; he’s not the kind of difficult cadre. We can most likely rent those three shops at No. 45, Pinnacle Road.”
When William said this, Amanda had gone to pick up the child from school, and Whitaker Scarlett and Elizabeth were sorting goods under the eaves. The rain and snow had stopped, and Grandma Johnson was going out with her big broom again. Elizabeth was organizing the clothes, occasionally glancing towards the door.
Grandma Johnson slowly returned with the broom, and Elizabeth helped her sweep the street. Grandma Johnson’s work had been quite easy these past few days.
Hearing William mention No. 45, Pinnacle Road, Grandma Johnson paused in her steps.
—There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world; so this was the reason.
From Harborfield to the capital, it only takes about ten hours by train.
The package that Whitaker Scarlett sent to the capital was mailed through the post office, but it took a full nine days to reach Kay’s hands.
