If These Walls Could Talk by Bettye Griffin Page B

who lived in the Bronx or Queens played hell trying to get off Manhattan Island.”
    Veronica nodded. “A lot of folks slept right there in the hospital.”
    â€œWe can still see the dust cloud over lower Manhattan,” Norman added, “although I predict they’ll be finished with the cleanup by spring. They’re working really fast.”
    â€œOur children didn’t sleep well for weeks afterward,” Veronica stated, saddened by the memory. “They were afraid someone would crash a plane into our apartment building, even though it’s just a walk-up. Their fears are just starting to recede a little.” She sighed. “No, I don’t think any of us will miss the city at all.”
    â€œBut yet it’s not so far where we can’t drive in for dinner and a concert on a Saturday night, or to visit our families,” Norman said.
    Veronica smiled. “I’ve got a feeling they’ll be wanting to come out to see us .”

Chapter 7
    The Youngs
November 2001
    D awn couldn’t believe it. All this, for a price just twenty dollars more than the rent they paid every month? She knew that the source of wealth for many people was the home they lived in. Real estate appreciated ; everyone knew that. Mortgage payments, unlike rent, stayed the same year after year provided you had a fixed-rate loan, while your income rose. And look how comfy they’d be in a brand-new house while their net worth soared.
    Much as she loved New York, after seeing this lovely suburban neighborhood she couldn’t help feeling a little cheated. Living in the world’s most exciting city shouldn’t mean having to give up on green grass and blue skies unless you were wealthy enough to live in a building with a rooftop garden. Here she was thinking that she and Milo had it so good just because they lived in a spacious apartment, took annual vacations, and traded in their old car for a new one every four years.
    Now she imagined Zachary running free on their own property with the pet dog he’d always wanted, or riding his bike with the dog trailing behind him. Her next thought was of how impressed all their family and friends would be when they learned she and Milo were buying a house. Not just buying, but building a brand-new house from the ground up, with new appliances, new carpeting . . . She and Milo would throw a big housewarming party after they moved in.
    How fortunate that they’d happened to see that TV commercial last weekend. Living here would be like stepping into one of those TV shows or books that showed black people living on lovely, tree-lined streets, where everyone over eighteen had their own car, the kind of settings that prompted so many people to say scornfully, “Black people don’t live like that.”
    â€œYou guys are in luck,” the salesman, a handsome young man in his twenties named Eric, told them. “We’re offering an incentive. Anyone making a deposit today gets a free deck and fireplace.”
    â€œReally?” Milo exchanged glances with Dawn. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”
    â€œBut which house do we want?” Dawn hadn’t even been this excited the last time they bought a car, three years ago.
    â€œWe don’t need anything too big,” Milo said, “since we only have one child. We probably don’t even need three bedrooms.”
    â€œEven our smallest model has three bedrooms,” Eric answered. “It’s the most popular size for a house. You want to think of resale value. Many of our residents telecommute and use the third bedroom as a home office.”
    â€œI wish I could do that,” Dawn said wistfully. “But my job requires me to be on-site, and so does Milo’s. It would be great if we didn’t have to make that long trip to New York every day. It’s nearly a hundred miles one way.”
    â€œOne of the politicians has proposed a passenger train to go