Chapter 13 - The Reclaiming of 4th Street
Six weeks after the divorce decree was signed by the judge, I went back to 4th Street.
I was not there to spy or to look for phantom memories. I was there as part of my professional work.
My architectural firm had won the contract to design the historic restoration of the public library three blocks from the Foundry Lofts—a beautiful 1890s sandstone building that had fallen into disrepair over decades of municipal neglect.
I stood on the broad stone steps of the library, holding a leather clipboard and a roll of architectural blueprints under my arm.
The morning autumn sun was bright, sharp, and clear, casting long, geometric shadows across the brick pavement. The air smelled of woodsmoke, fallen leaves, and fresh coffee from the bakery down the corner.
As I surveyed the cracked facade of the library’s archway, noting where the mortar needed to be replaced and where the original copper flashing could be restored, I realized I was standing less than two hundred yards from the entrance of the building where Brooke had lived.
I looked down the street at the glass entrance of 412 4th Street.
A moving truck was parked outside the curb. Workers were loading furniture—a grey modular sofa, a floor lamp, boxes of household items—into the back of the van.
A new tenant was moving out; another was moving in. The city moved on, indifferent to the personal dramas that unfolded inside its brick and glass boxes.
For months, the name 4th Street had been a phantom in my mind—a dark, threatening symbol of betrayal, secret money, and hidden humiliation. But standing here in the morning sun, holding my blueprints and managing a three-million-dollar historic restoration project, the address lost its power.
It was just brick. It was just glass. It was just a street in a city full of streets.
My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. It was a text message from my lead structural engineer:
May you like
The stone masonry team is ready for your site inspection, Clara. Whenever you're ready.
I pulled my dark wool coat around my shoulders, adjusted my blueprint tube, and walked up the stone steps into the grand, sunlit foyer of the building I was bringing back to life.
