"Good morning! Let me know if you need any help, okay?"
"I will, thank you very much!" she replied with a smile.
He'd owned the store for three years and never seen her before. New customers weren't uncommon so that wasn't really unusual. What was, was the way she was dressed for someone her age.
He guessed her to be between 18 and 21 and typically that implied certain things. Not always, of course, and he knew people tended to notice the exceptions and not the rule. Still, she was not only unusually dressed for her age, she was very attractive in her own right—pretty face, slender body, nice hair, etc. Beyond the clothes she was wearing, she struck him as also being both elegant and sophisticated. Most girls her age wore shorts and tee-shirts or maybe jeans with rips they paid someone else to put there and a crop top.
Her style was not only unusual for her age it was unusual for a woman of any age. If that sort of style did still fit in anywhere, he had to admit it probably worked best in a place that sold old-fashioned vinyl records and classic books with actual pages which was the heart and soul of his store called The Bridge.
This girl, this young woman, looked like she was either going to work as someone's secretary (or executive assistant as they were normally called anymore) or out to dinner at a very nice restaurant but at some time in the distant past. But it was a Saturday morning in 2016 and her appearance struck the owner as very much out of place. Out of place but nonetheless refreshingly pleasant.
He did his best not to stare as she wandered around flipping through the endless stacks of records alphabetized by group or artist before moving on to the huge collection of new and mostly used books.
Ryan Lindemann had a deep and abiding love of the past and that had been the impetus that led him to open The Bridge three years ago selling analogue stuff in a digital world. Virtually everyone he'd talked to about his grand idea told him it was foolishness. "It's like opening a buggy whip business or trying to sell eight-track tapes. No one's gonna buy that stuff anymore."
He'd been 30 years old at the time and had managed to save just over $10,000 while working as a computer programmer after graduating from college with a degree in that field. He needed at least another $25,000 to open the store, and had been turned down by his parents, his grandparents, and one bank after the other until meeting a sympathetic, kindred spirit just as he was about to give up hope.
She was an older woman named Ruth he'd known for years and yet he had no idea she also shared his love of the past. Unlike him, she'd lived it and now yearned for that simpler time when radio stations played records spun by DJs or when people didn't download a book onto their tablets but held print copies in their hands. Mostly, she longed for the time when people were civil to one another and women wanted to be treated like ladies by men who looked like men.
She was 77 years old and when the topic came up, she'd been more than willing to loan him the money. He'd lived across the street from her all his life, but Ryan had never really talked with her let alone about his own fascination with not just records and books, but classic movies, Big-Band music, old cars, and a number of other things.
Recently, she'd been outside as he walked by and had started up a conversation. At one point, she'd asked him if he could possibly do some work for her. "I'll pay you for your time, of course," she'd told him. He was really too busy to do so, but just couldn't say 'no' and had spent several hours helping her out. She offered him some iced tea when he finished, then, out of friendliness rather than genuine curiosity, asked him what he'd been doing lately.
"I see you all the time, Ryan, but it's been ages since we spoke," she told him. "I'm so glad you were able to help me out. I was afraid I was going to have to call someone who'd charge me an arm and a leg." She'd offered to pay him, but she'd been a neighbor and his parents' friend all his life so he refused. Ryan had no idea she had more money than she could possibly spend, so he didn't find her comment unusual.
"I stay pretty busy trying to put together a book and record collection," he told her. "I'd really love to restore an old car—I'm talking about something like a '56 Chevy—too, but my real dream is to open a store with a '50s theme called 'The Bridge'. It'd be well...a bridge to the past where people can have an experience of what life was like during a simpler time. You know, rotary dial telephones, a soda fountain for a snack bar, a juke box that plays 45s, and of course, I'd be selling vinyl records and old books with maybe some new ones, too."
She'd immediately taken an avid interest in the idea and began recounting her days as a young teenager during the early '50s. "That was even before Elvis!" she told him. "Those were such wonderful times. Life was simple and innocent and so...wonderful!" She smiled and told him, "Did you know people didn't even lock their doors at night back then?"
As they talked he told her how hard it had been to get anyone to share his vision or at least believe it could make money.
"Well, then you've been talking to the wrong people!" she told him. "How much money are you talking about?"
Neither he nor his parents (or even her children) knew how much money she had, but since her husband passed away, she had a veritable fortune in assets. She had a nice home but otherwise lived a very simple, frugal life masking her net worth. This was a golden opportunity for her to give people a small taste of the America she'd grown up in and she couldn't wait to help Ryan get started.
Three years later, he was still in business, but it had been a real struggle month to month. Ruth had kept the store above water the first two years with monthly cash infusions. For her, just having a place like The Bridge was an investment in history and was money well spent. Six months ago, she'd passed away and had left $100,000 to fund The Bridge in her will; money without which, Ryan couldn't have kept the store open. He drew on that reserve every month taking no more than necessary to keep it up and running.
He'd dated often and even managed to get engaged the first year he was in business, but the financial struggle was so great, his fiancee gave him an ultimatum: sell the store or I'm gone. The Bridge was still open and she'd walked away after giving him back the ring. Deep down, he knew she wasn't a good fit as she had no interest in either his store or his nostalgia for times gone by. She was a modern girl who loved modern things with money being the thing she loved the most.
Ryan had always had girlfriends or at least hook-ups, but the whole concept of hooking up was too modern for his taste, and was now, well, a thing of the past. His dream was to find a Ruth who was a wee bit closer to his own age; someone who shared his love of the past as well as the values of that period.
He didn't want a June Cleaver from Leave it to Beaver. He just wanted a woman who valued marriage, family, and fidelity; and if she enjoyed lovemaking as much as he did, that would be an added bonus. He wanted an intelligent, equal partner, not a servant. If she wanted to work, great. If she chose to be a homemaker and raise their children, fine.
He just had no interest in the kind of radical feminism that, in his opinion, had thrown the baby out with the bathwater. Men and women were different and Ryan believed the differences should be respected and celebrated, not ignored or merged. As with his entire life, this one area was bucking all social trends, but that only made him more determined to find the kind of woman he was looking for.
He'd been looking and was still doing so, but he'd had had precious little luck finding a woman even close to his ideal, but he remained ever hopeful and on the lookout. The young lady in his store was almost certainly too young to be a potential romantic partner, but she had most definitely caught his eye.
He wandered over toward her, waited for her to notice him so he wouldn't startle her, then said with a friendly smile, "Are you finding everything okay?"
She smiled brightly back at him and said, "I absolutely love this store! My friend has told me about it on more than one occasion, so it was at the top of my list of places to see whenever I finally got back here."
"Well, thank you. I appreciate that. So I take it you're not from around here?"
"I actually grew up just a few blocks from here. My parents divorced about five years ago and I've lived with my mother in Los Angeles since. Now that I'm legally an adult, I've decided to move back here and I'm temporarily living with my father...and his new wife." She wrinkled up her nose when she said 'new wife' and Ryan smiled politely.
"I'm happy to welcome you home, but sorry to hear about the divorce. I guess I'm very fortunate. My parents have somehow managed to stay together for over 35 years."
"You are," she said. "Maybe it's pollyannaish of me, but I fully intend to marry once and only once. And unlike my philandering father—whom I've forgiven, I will never stray from my wedding vows." She sighed then said, "Finding a man who believes those things as strongly as I do seems to be rather...challenging." She stopped suddenly then said, "My apologies. You asked me a very simple question and I'm prattling on sharing my life's philosophy with you. Yes, I'm finding everything quite well, thank you," she told him.
