you should have taken the whole day off after your accident. You’re not looking too great. I could dab a little color on your cheeks.”
I pushed away from him. “Watch out. I have a restraining order out on you. If you come within fifty feet of me with a makeup sponge you’ll be arrested.”
He looked around. “Where’s Francesca?”
A part of me wanted to spill the beans to Mark, tell him everything. But I knew I couldn’t. “She had to leave.”
I wanted to spare him the truth until telling him became absolutely necessary, like when I was thrown in jail for the trucker’s murder.
Chapter Seven
We walked to the barroom in the back of the restaurant. Nearly all the bar stools, as well as most of the chairs surrounding the tables were occupied. A band was on the stage tuning up, as the jukebox blared pop rock music. Mark and I joined a group of friends and we said our hellos. They motioned to the two remaining bar stools.
I was determined to act like nothing was wrong. Enjoy my freedom while it lasted. Yet, my insides were doing somersaults and random thoughts of fleeing the country crossed my mind.
“CiCi, did you read about the hospital expansion?” My college friend Lucas asked as the bartender set a bowl of peanuts in front of him. Lucas worked at the local newspaper, The Lakeside News.
“A little.” I answered. “Mark, Lucas, can I get you a draft?”
Mark pulled a bowl of peanuts toward him. He scooped up a handful. “Sure.”
“No thanks. This is already my third one.” Lucas held up his mug, half full of beer. “It’s my limit to still be able to function tomorrow.”
I turned toward the bartender. “Two drafts please.” Mark reached for his wallet, but I waved him off. “You got my dinner, I’ll get the drinks.” I set down a ten-dollar bill on the counter to cover the drinks and tip.
The bar filled up, mainly with locals clad in shorts or jeans, and casual shirts. The wood floor was sticky with spilled beer, and the noise level of the crowd was causing us to shout our conversation. It smelled of alcohol, perfume and cooking odors from the restaurant.
Mark asked Lucas, “Now what were you saying about a hospital expansion?”
“The groundbreaking was in today’s paper,” Lucas said.
The bartender set down two frosted glass mugs of beer. I slid one over to Mark. Then I took a swig of mine. I wanted to submerge myself in it. “And?”
Lucas leaned on the bar and popped a peanut in his mouth. “They’re building a new wing.”
I grabbed a napkin and put it under my beer to catch the condensation. “Ken told me the hospital’s new CEO is a real go-getter.”
Lucas swigged his beer. “I guess so. It appears that he wants to start buying up dozens of houses.”
“Why would he need to do that?” I asked. “The hospital is expanding in the vacant lots east of the emergency room.”
“Yes and no,” Lucas replied. “That’s just phase one, where they’ll use the vacant lots for extra parking and a helipad. But phase two will be west of the pediatric center.”
I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. “West? There’s no vacant land to the west.” What in the hell was going on? Why didn’t Ken tell me about it?
“No, there isn’t.” Fisting his hand in front of his mouth Lucas burped. “That means they would have to plow down a couple of blocks of houses to build. Within the next year, they plan to buy up the houses and tear them down.”
My heart raced. Estelle and I lived four blocks west of the pediatric center. “How many houses, and how far west?”
Lucas chugged the rest of his beer, and put the mug down on the bar. “They’re talking about three, four city blocks, out past Elm Avenue.”
A wave of wooziness overcame me. Holding the bar, I steadied myself.
Mark’s voice rose to a high pitch. “CiCi, your house!”
I shook my head and drooped over. Estelle’s letter today. Not immigrant romaine. I whispered, “Eminent domain.” That
I pushed away from him. “Watch out. I have a restraining order out on you. If you come within fifty feet of me with a makeup sponge you’ll be arrested.”
He looked around. “Where’s Francesca?”
A part of me wanted to spill the beans to Mark, tell him everything. But I knew I couldn’t. “She had to leave.”
I wanted to spare him the truth until telling him became absolutely necessary, like when I was thrown in jail for the trucker’s murder.
Chapter Seven
We walked to the barroom in the back of the restaurant. Nearly all the bar stools, as well as most of the chairs surrounding the tables were occupied. A band was on the stage tuning up, as the jukebox blared pop rock music. Mark and I joined a group of friends and we said our hellos. They motioned to the two remaining bar stools.
I was determined to act like nothing was wrong. Enjoy my freedom while it lasted. Yet, my insides were doing somersaults and random thoughts of fleeing the country crossed my mind.
“CiCi, did you read about the hospital expansion?” My college friend Lucas asked as the bartender set a bowl of peanuts in front of him. Lucas worked at the local newspaper, The Lakeside News.
“A little.” I answered. “Mark, Lucas, can I get you a draft?”
Mark pulled a bowl of peanuts toward him. He scooped up a handful. “Sure.”
“No thanks. This is already my third one.” Lucas held up his mug, half full of beer. “It’s my limit to still be able to function tomorrow.”
I turned toward the bartender. “Two drafts please.” Mark reached for his wallet, but I waved him off. “You got my dinner, I’ll get the drinks.” I set down a ten-dollar bill on the counter to cover the drinks and tip.
The bar filled up, mainly with locals clad in shorts or jeans, and casual shirts. The wood floor was sticky with spilled beer, and the noise level of the crowd was causing us to shout our conversation. It smelled of alcohol, perfume and cooking odors from the restaurant.
Mark asked Lucas, “Now what were you saying about a hospital expansion?”
“The groundbreaking was in today’s paper,” Lucas said.
The bartender set down two frosted glass mugs of beer. I slid one over to Mark. Then I took a swig of mine. I wanted to submerge myself in it. “And?”
Lucas leaned on the bar and popped a peanut in his mouth. “They’re building a new wing.”
I grabbed a napkin and put it under my beer to catch the condensation. “Ken told me the hospital’s new CEO is a real go-getter.”
Lucas swigged his beer. “I guess so. It appears that he wants to start buying up dozens of houses.”
“Why would he need to do that?” I asked. “The hospital is expanding in the vacant lots east of the emergency room.”
“Yes and no,” Lucas replied. “That’s just phase one, where they’ll use the vacant lots for extra parking and a helipad. But phase two will be west of the pediatric center.”
I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. “West? There’s no vacant land to the west.” What in the hell was going on? Why didn’t Ken tell me about it?
“No, there isn’t.” Fisting his hand in front of his mouth Lucas burped. “That means they would have to plow down a couple of blocks of houses to build. Within the next year, they plan to buy up the houses and tear them down.”
My heart raced. Estelle and I lived four blocks west of the pediatric center. “How many houses, and how far west?”
Lucas chugged the rest of his beer, and put the mug down on the bar. “They’re talking about three, four city blocks, out past Elm Avenue.”
A wave of wooziness overcame me. Holding the bar, I steadied myself.
Mark’s voice rose to a high pitch. “CiCi, your house!”
I shook my head and drooped over. Estelle’s letter today. Not immigrant romaine. I whispered, “Eminent domain.” That
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