Chapter 9 - Rebuilding and Reparation
The next week changed my routine in small ways.
I returned to Cedar Street twice.
The first time with a maintenance supervisor.
The second with Daniel.
Sarah protested both visits.
“You don’t normally inspect boilers personally, do you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m developing an interest in boilers.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The heating system needed work.
So did the windows.
So did the stairwell lighting.
None of it was catastrophic.
That was almost worse.
Every problem had been small enough to postpone.
Small enough to ignore.
Small enough to become normal.
The repairs began.
Not just in 4B.
The entire building.
I expected complaints from accounting.
I received many.
I also discovered something unsettling.
We could afford every repair.
Easily.
It meant the neglect had never been necessary.
Just efficient.
That word bothered me for days.
Meanwhile, Sarah slowly improved.
Her doctor cleared her for limited work.
One afternoon, when I stopped by, I found the apartment brighter.
The curtains were open.
Sunlight fell across the floor.
Lily sat at the table doing homework while Sarah adjusted the sleeve of a navy jacket.
“You’re working again.”
“A little.”
“For whom?”
“Mrs. Alvarez apparently has a social life none of us can match.”
Lily looked up.
“She has dancing on Fridays.”
“She is seventy-six,” Sarah said.
“And she dances better than you.”
Sarah pointed at her.
“Homework.”
Lily returned to her worksheet.
I leaned against the wall.
“I have a proposition.”
Sarah immediately became suspicious.
“I don’t like propositions.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“That has never stopped anyone from disliking one.”
“I have twelve buildings where we regularly outsource minor uniform repairs, curtain alterations, and some fabric work.”
Sarah stared at me.
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the numbers.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re trying to give me work.”
“That’s generally how employment works.”
“You’re trying to rescue me.”
“I’m trying to hire someone who can sew.”
“You don’t know if I’m good.”
I picked up the navy jacket.
The sleeve looked perfect to me.
“I can ask Mrs. Alvarez.”
Lily giggled.
Sarah glared at both of us.
“This isn’t funny.”
“No,” I said.
Then I became serious.
“It isn’t.”
I sat across from her.
“I’m not offering charity. I need work done. You need work you can do from home while you recover.”
She studied me for a long time.
“What rate?”
I told her.
She frowned.
“That’s too high.”
“It’s what we pay the contractor now.”
“Then your contractor is overcharging you.”
“That is possible.”
She reached for a notebook.
“What exactly needs altering?”
I smiled.
There it was.
Pride.
Not the kind that refused help.
The kind that needed help to arrive with dignity attached.
Within two weeks, Sarah was doing small contracts for the company.
Nothing huge.
Nothing she couldn’t manage.
She paid one month of rent.
I told her to keep the money.
She refused.
We argued for ten minutes.
She won.
Lily kept her forty dollars.
She bought a new box of colored pencils and, after several days of thought, a chocolate cupcake.
I learned this because she gave me half.
“You don’t have to share.”
“Mom says people who share things get better things back.”
“That sounds financially irresponsible.”
May you like
Lily stared at me.
I ate the cupcake.
