CHAPTER FOUR: TWO STORIES FOR THE SAME ROOM
Victor recovered quickly.
He told them the Eastbank project would bring jobs, revive abandoned storefronts, and fund a scholarship for young chefs.
“The community deserves investment,” he said.
“The memorial dinner is a way to honor the past while supporting the future.”
“Why would the families support a building conversion because you fed them dinner?” Ethan asked.
Victor looked at him with contempt.
“This is adult business, Cole.”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Then try behaving like it.”
Gideon intervened before Ethan could respond.
“What did you tell the organizers about the families?”
“They volunteered their stories.”
“Did they volunteer these endorsements?”
Victor pushed the printed sheet aside.
“They understood the purpose.”
Levi made a strangled sound.
“My mother didn’t even know about Eastbank.”
Marta opened her phone.
She had a photograph of a flyer from the summer dinner.
It invited residents to share memories of relatives who had worked in the old neighborhood.
No mention of offices appeared anywhere.
Talia copied the flyer details.
She made clear that the receiver could preserve records and investigate contractual promises but could not declare what any person had consented to without hearing from that person.
“Then hear from my mother,” Levi said.
Gideon agreed to meet her that afternoon.
Victor announced that he was leaving for an appointment.
Talia reminded him that records and equipment were not to be removed.
“I heard you the first time,” he snapped.
He reached the doorway and looked back at Ethan.
“You’re going to regret staying involved.”
Ethan waited until he was gone.
“He already fired me,
” he said.
“What’s left?”
Marta gave him a grim smile.
“He can still make sure no one else hires you.”
That fear followed Ethan all the way home.
His apartment sat above a tailor’s shop six blocks away.
There were two clean shirts hanging over the radiator, a half-empty bag of rice, and an application for a better apartment folded under a plate.
He had saved money for eight months to move closer to his younger brother’s trade school.
Now his income had vanished over seven dollars and forty cents.
His brother, Owen, called at noon.
“Mom says you got fired for buying somebody dinner,” Owen said.
“Mom has a fast telephone.”
“She also says you’re stubborn.”
“That part is accurate.”
Owen grew serious.
“Are you okay?”
Ethan looked at the empty space where his work shoes usually stood.
“I don’t know yet.”
He wanted to tell Owen the story would end with Gideon restoring his job and Victor apologizing.
But he had seen too many people walk away from restaurants with their belongings in plastic bags.
Instead, he asked whether Owen’s exams were going well.
Owen let him change the subject only once.
“You helped a person,” he said before hanging up.
“Don’t let Victor tell you that was the wrong part.”
Ethan set down the phone.
He wished doing the right thing could pay the rent.
