into a bowl shape that was easy to manage, if not particularly attractive. She was dressed in a casual, loose-fitting dress belted at the waist, with heels that were significantly higher than comfortable for a Sunday afternoon. Carrying a plate of warm conchas—cinnamon-flavored, shell-shaped sweet rolls—her brow was furrowed and her manner concerned.
“I don’t know what to do,” she told Red. “Everyone has different advice for me. So I thought I’d hear what you are going to do.”
Red led her to one of the patio tables in the shade. The afternoon was hot, but a nearby fan at least stirred up a breeze.
“What am I going to do about what?” Red asked her.
“The River Walk extension,” Mrs. Ramirez answered. “And the redevelopment of our neighborhood.”
“Oh, that,” Red replied dismissively. “Yeah, I heard some talk about that. But the folks at city hall are always threatening to change things down here. It’ll never happen.”
Mrs. Ramirez was momentarily silenced by her response, but then appeared more anxious than before.
“But it is happening,” she said. “The construction on the river is all the way to the Brooklyn Street bridge already.”
Red remembered the bright-orange construction zone that had caught young Daniel’s eye.
“They’re probably just…just…well, surveying or something. I don’t know what they’re doing,” Red admitted.
“They are making the river wider and deeper,” Mrs.Ramirez told her. “They’re going to bring the water-taxi service up past us, all the way to the Pearl Brewery. They’ve decided to remake Avenue B into houses and condos. The only restaurants they are going to want will be for tourists.”
“Your café is the anchor of this neighborhood,” Red assured her. “Your place will always be on that corner.”
The older woman shook her head. “That is not what I hear from my landlord,” she answered. “Last year he raised the rent so high on me. He said he couldn’t help it, that it was property tax. This year, he said he will not renew at all. He said there’s a buyer that is piecing together our entire block. My landlord is selling, and what the new owner will want from me, I do not know.”
Red felt a momentary queasiness as she remembered the higher-priced lease agreement that she had refused to sign. Yes, she had heard the talk, yes, she had seen the construction, but she was still convinced that it couldn’t happen. Nobody wanted this piece of town. No one ever had, no one ever would. She was certain of that.
“I’m sure the new owner is just speculating,” Red told Mrs. Ramirez. “And the very fact that your landlord wants to take the money while it’s offered just tells you that he doesn’t think anything will happen, either.”
Mrs. Ramirez nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
“My nephew, Maldito, is looking for a place for us on the west side. But there are so many restaurants over there! How could I ever make a place for myself there like I have here? My sister says I’m too old to start over.”
“And when did you ever listen to your sister?” Red asked. “Don’t move to the west side. Stay right here. All this will blow over and it will be the same as it always was.”
Red’s upbeat insistence didn’t seem to do much for Mrs.Ramirez. As she continued to speculate about the future, she nervously ate all but one of the sweets she’d brought to share.
After she left, Red went through her papers and found the lease agreement that she’d failed to sign. She looked at it in a whole new light. Maybe she should have asked more questions. She’d assumed it was just a typical negotiation over money.
She looked around her little tattered business. It was a great place. A funky place. A family place. It was a place she wanted to be for the rest of her life. No one would ever want to get rid of it.
Red took some comfort in that thought and deliberately tried to push Mrs. Ramirez’s revelations out of
“I don’t know what to do,” she told Red. “Everyone has different advice for me. So I thought I’d hear what you are going to do.”
Red led her to one of the patio tables in the shade. The afternoon was hot, but a nearby fan at least stirred up a breeze.
“What am I going to do about what?” Red asked her.
“The River Walk extension,” Mrs. Ramirez answered. “And the redevelopment of our neighborhood.”
“Oh, that,” Red replied dismissively. “Yeah, I heard some talk about that. But the folks at city hall are always threatening to change things down here. It’ll never happen.”
Mrs. Ramirez was momentarily silenced by her response, but then appeared more anxious than before.
“But it is happening,” she said. “The construction on the river is all the way to the Brooklyn Street bridge already.”
Red remembered the bright-orange construction zone that had caught young Daniel’s eye.
“They’re probably just…just…well, surveying or something. I don’t know what they’re doing,” Red admitted.
“They are making the river wider and deeper,” Mrs.Ramirez told her. “They’re going to bring the water-taxi service up past us, all the way to the Pearl Brewery. They’ve decided to remake Avenue B into houses and condos. The only restaurants they are going to want will be for tourists.”
“Your café is the anchor of this neighborhood,” Red assured her. “Your place will always be on that corner.”
The older woman shook her head. “That is not what I hear from my landlord,” she answered. “Last year he raised the rent so high on me. He said he couldn’t help it, that it was property tax. This year, he said he will not renew at all. He said there’s a buyer that is piecing together our entire block. My landlord is selling, and what the new owner will want from me, I do not know.”
Red felt a momentary queasiness as she remembered the higher-priced lease agreement that she had refused to sign. Yes, she had heard the talk, yes, she had seen the construction, but she was still convinced that it couldn’t happen. Nobody wanted this piece of town. No one ever had, no one ever would. She was certain of that.
“I’m sure the new owner is just speculating,” Red told Mrs. Ramirez. “And the very fact that your landlord wants to take the money while it’s offered just tells you that he doesn’t think anything will happen, either.”
Mrs. Ramirez nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
“My nephew, Maldito, is looking for a place for us on the west side. But there are so many restaurants over there! How could I ever make a place for myself there like I have here? My sister says I’m too old to start over.”
“And when did you ever listen to your sister?” Red asked. “Don’t move to the west side. Stay right here. All this will blow over and it will be the same as it always was.”
Red’s upbeat insistence didn’t seem to do much for Mrs.Ramirez. As she continued to speculate about the future, she nervously ate all but one of the sweets she’d brought to share.
After she left, Red went through her papers and found the lease agreement that she’d failed to sign. She looked at it in a whole new light. Maybe she should have asked more questions. She’d assumed it was just a typical negotiation over money.
She looked around her little tattered business. It was a great place. A funky place. A family place. It was a place she wanted to be for the rest of her life. No one would ever want to get rid of it.
Red took some comfort in that thought and deliberately tried to push Mrs. Ramirez’s revelations out of
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