That night, Olivia and Kiara slept in the third bedroom, their faces still pale from the ordeal. Emilia stayed with them, her gentle presence a steady anchor, until their breathing softened into sleep. Tony lay awake in his own room, staring at the ceiling, the memory of Kiara's cries and Olivia's fear replaying in his mind. I got to them in time, he thought, but the weight of what could've happened lingered.
The next morning, the air felt lighter, though not fully free of shadows. Olivia and Kiara weren't their usual selves, but the fear in their eyes had softened, replaced by a quiet resilience. Tony woke at 6:00 a.m., his mind already buzzing with plans, and headed downstairs for breakfast. At the dining table, Kiara sat munching on a pancake, while Olivia stood in the kitchen, helping Emilia flip more on the griddle. Olivia wore high-waisted, light-wash jeans, loose at the thighs and cuffed at the ankles, paired with a white ribbed crop top that hugged her frame just right, flashing a sliver of toned midriff. She looked effortless, like she'd stepped out of a movie, but her eyes held a guarded warmth.
Tony slid into a chair, catching Emilia's eye. "Grandma, I'm heading out to scout real estate for the cafés today. I'll cash in the lotto ticket tomorrow—they don't operate on Sundays."
Emilia nodded, her gaze flickering to Olivia and Kiara. "Good plan. Can you take Olivia and Kiara with you? It'll do them good to get out."
Tony caught the unspoken reason—Emilia wanted to keep their minds off yesterday. "Alright, Grandma," he said with a grin, masking the ache he felt for the sisters.
Olivia glanced up from the stove, frowning. "But I've got a shift at the café today. I can't just skip it." Guilt laced her voice—she owed Emilia so much already, from the free pastries for Kiara to Tony's rescue yesterday.
"Olivia, we'll manage at the café," Emilia said gently. "Besides, Tony could use your eye for picking spots. He thinks he's a hotshot, but he's got no clue about locations."
Tony laughed, playing along to lighten the mood. "Really, Grandma? Just watch, I'll show you who your grandson is."
Emilia chuckled, and even Kiara cracked a small smile. Olivia's lips twitched, the tension in her shoulders easing. Tony shoveled a bite of pancake into his mouth, savoring the fluffiness. Emilia raised an eyebrow. "So, how're the pancakes, Tony?"
He swallowed, not noticing Olivia's curious glance. "They're great, Grandma, but they've got a different vibe today. Still awesome, though."
Olivia's face lit up with a shy smile, but Emilia jumped in, mischief in her eyes. "Oh, you like Olivia's pancakes, huh? You know, when you were six, you swore you'd marry the girl who made better pancakes than me."
Tony's cheeks flushed, and he nearly choked. "Grandma, c'mon! No one's topping your pancakes. But," he added, glancing at Olivia, "these are good enough for the café menu."
Olivia blushed, ducking her head, while Kiara piped up, "I can make better pancakes than my sister. Mom always said so."
The table erupted in laughter, the room finally shedding some of its heaviness. Tony caught Olivia's eye, her smile a little brighter, and felt a warmth he hadn't known in his past life. This is what I was missing, he thought. People. Moments.
After breakfast, Emilia took the Corolla to the café, while Tony, Olivia, and Kiara piled into the Mustang. Olivia had thrown a hoodie over her crop top, and Tony, in a blue shirt and white trousers, caught more than a few admiring glances from women as they walked to the car. Guess the second chance came with some charm, he thought, amused but focused.
Their first stop was Bryant Park in Manhattan. Tony knew from his past life that in 1991, it was underdeveloped, but by early 1992, its foot traffic would explode, making it a goldmine for a café. Union Square was next on his list—another spot poised for a boom in the '90s. Unlike Times Square, with its seedy reputation of adult theaters and sketchy corners, these locations were diamonds in the rough.
At Bryant Park, the foot traffic was light compared to Times Square or Wall Street, but Tony saw its potential. They spent four hours combing the area, finally finding a plot for sale at a four-road junction—a spot no one in 1991 valued, but Tony knew would be prime real estate. He jotted down the address and the real estate office's name, his heart racing with the thrill of being steps ahead of the game.
Next, they headed to Union Square. Luck was on their side—within forty minutes, Olivia pointed out a perfect spot. It was a corner lot with no cafés within 500 meters and decent foot traffic for the time being. Tony was floored. "Damn, Olivia, you've got an eye for this," he said, genuinely impressed. "This spot's perfect."
She blushed, shrugging. "Just got a feeling about it." Her confidence, quiet but sure, reminded him of Emilia, and he felt a pang of admiration.
It was already 1:30 p.m., and their stomachs were growling. Before lunch, Tony stopped at an electronics store and dropped $2,000 on a Motorola MicroTAC 9800X—the first flip phone, a pricey but necessary tool for his plans. Then, at an AT&T Wireless shop, he slogged through paperwork to set up an AMPS connection, the clerk promising activation by the next morning. By 2:30, they were starving and settled into a diner near the shop.
Over burgers and fries, they chatted lightly. Olivia seemed more at ease, her smiles coming easier. After lunch, they scouted more properties but came up empty-handed. By 6:30 p.m., they called it a day, agreeing to try again tomorrow.
Back home, they shared a quiet dinner, then gathered in the living room to watch a movie. As the credits rolled, Tony noticed Olivia sitting closer to him on the couch, her guard lowering with every shared laugh. The day had brought them closer, her trust in him growing like a fragile but steady flame.