Chapter 13

Two weeks later the Councilman for our district approached me, asking for an hour of my time. There was another man with him when he showed up, and I met them at the pastry shop.

Over coffee and pastry the man made his pitch. “I’m also a Councilman, representing a district much like yours in another city. High crime rate, section 8 apartment complexes, high unemployment, the whole gamut of the ills of the poor and disadvantaged. BIll and I met at a conference last week, and he told me about you. If you could spare the time, I’d like for you to come to our city, meet with the Council, and explain what you’ve accomplished. Maybe you could offer some advice that will help us get something like you’ve created off the ground. Maybe you could expand, ever thought about that?”

No, I hadn’t. I was making really good money off the bakeries, the store and the pastry shop. Still, I was proud of what I’d accomplished, proud of the difference I was making in the community. I agreed to meet them in three-week’s time.

The first thing I did was talk it over with my advisors. Both Grandmas, Dan and Jose, Ms. Chen, Michael and Miguel. The consensus was that I should help them if I could.

I rented a big van and they all traveled with me. They dropped me off, saying they wanted to see the area while I talked to the Council.

It was a three-hour meeting. Most were all for a program like the one I’d stumbled onto. Two were totally opposed to it for some reason.

My people were waiting for me when I got through, and they took me to a soul food kitchen they’d found. I noted I was the only white face in the crowded dining room, and there was a lull in conversation when we entered. They must have decided I was harmless and the talking went back to a dull roar.

Dan started the conversation. “There’s a medium-sized grocery store two blocks over. It’s been abandoned for four years so it will need a lot of work.”

Grandma Vasquez continued when he stopped. “It’s in a strip mall, and there’s a storefront next to it perfect for a pastry shop. You could recruit locals and do the same thing you did with us. We’ll even help train them and share recipes.”

Ms. Chin went next. “I bet if we worked the programs you could get the whole thing, all the empty shops, for practically nothing. Do a little renovating, establish it as a safe place, and you could fill every shop. It’s a golden opportunity, son.”

Michael and Miguel chimed in, saying there was gang activity, but it was mostly locals, no presence of the national organizations. “Not enough money flowing,” Miguel said, “so it’s not worth their time.”

I looked at the table and they grinned at me. Grandma Greely said it best. “You got everything squared away at home, son. And to be honest, you’ve seemed a little bored lately. Work your magic, one more time.”

I thought about it for a few days, then Ms. Chen and I made appointments. She got me the programs I needed, and I bought the strip mall. It took four months for the construction crews to finish the grocery store and I used the time to hire the people I would need.

I found another store manager, a fifty-eight year old Hispanic woman who’d been passed over for promotion a dozen times at the chain where she’d been working. She was a gold mine, helping me recruit talented people like her, mostly minorities and women who knew their options were limited at other places.