During my lunch break, I headed back to the Branstone to meet with my property manager, Dan, to discuss some supplemental construction. He looked overloaded, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the building's maintenance issues. I figured a good meal might lighten his load.
"Dan, let's take a break. How about we grab some lunch at Vinny's?" I suggested, hoping a change of scenery and a hot meal might lift his spirits.
Dan glanced up from his paperwork, his brow furrowed. "I don't know, Vance. A lot to handle right now."
"You gotta eat," I said, offering a reassuring smile. "Besides, I have something I want to discuss. Come on."
We made our way to Vinny's cart, where the line was predictably long. Despite the crowd, Vinny worked with lightning speed, serving dozens of hungry pedestrians in mere minutes. His accent carried over the hum of city life.
"If it is't Vahnce! Gimme a sec, will yah?" he called out when he spotted us, a grin splitting his weathered face.
"No rush, Vinny. We're just two men hungry for your dogs," I replied, returning his smile.
After a short wait, it was finally our turn. We placed our orders, and Vinny started on our four dogs drug through the garden. He turned back around balancing three wienies in each hand for the previous customers.
"Looks'in like yah need a bit more 'an just a bite," Vinny said, wiping his hands on his apron.
We found a shaded table in the park, the rustling leaves providing a soothing backdrop. As we sat down, Vinny brought over our food with one for him, the aroma making my mouth water.
"So, what's weighin' on ya, fin' fellas?" Vinny asked, settling into the chair across from us.
Dan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's the Branstone, Vinny. We need to do some reconstruction following an attack, and I'm cannot figure out how to manage the tenants during the process."
Vinny nodded thoughtfully, taking a bite of his hot dog. "Reminds me of me fryahs. Sometimes, ya gotta shut down one to clean it proper, butcha keep the other runnin' so's ya don't lose customers."
I looked puzzled. "How does that help us?"
Dan's eyes lit up, inspired by Vinny's analogy. He quickly scribbled down a plan on a napkin, his earlier stress melting away. "That's brilliant, Vinny. I think this could work!"
Vinny stood up, brushing crumbs from his apron. "Glad ta help. Now, I gotta get back to me tenants before they vacate."
We watched as Vinny returned to his cart, a line of eager customers already forming despite the sign. Dan looked at me, his face beaming with newfound energy.
Dan smiled, his eyes twinkling with inspiration. "Think about it. We have a few empty rooms, right? Shuffle the tenants around, like musical chairs. Move them to the empty rooms while the contractors work on their floors. That way, nobody's too inconvenienced, and we get back in pedigree."
"Thanks for this, Vance. I feel like you took the world off my shoulder." He threw down a handful of dollars from his pocket before turning and hurrying away, "Lunch is on me!"
I nodded, finishing my hot dog. "Wait-"
My manager was already to far away to hear me over the sounds of the crowd buzzing around the number one food stall around.
I finished my hot dog, savoring the last bite while the afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the park path. Vinny's advice had given me a fresh perspective, and I felt ready to tackle the rest of the day. Wiping my hands on a napkin, I stood up and began the walk back to my office.
The city buzzed around me, the sounds of honking cars and distant chatter blending into a familiar symphony. As I approached the office building, I noticed Clara standing at the entrance, her arms crossed and her expression stormy.
"Vance," she called out as soon as she saw me, her tone sharp and filled with fury. "We need to talk. Now."
I sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. "Clara, what's going on?"
"We need to talk about what Lafayette did," she demanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "This is important, Vance. You can't just avoid me."
"Can it wait until I get to my office?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light and hoping to defuse the situation.
"No, it can't," she snapped, following me as I walked inside.
As we walked through the lobby, Clara continued her tirade. "I can't believe you just let this happen. Joined with Lafayette and fired all of us—everyone who worked under Pembrose—and ran away after? What kind of leadership is that?"
"Clara, I—" I began, but she was relentless.
"You don't just cut out the backbone of a firm and expect it to run smoothly. You know we were the ones keeping things together. You can't handle all this on your own."
I held up my hand, trying to interrupt. "Clara, I—"
"No, let me finish," she cut me off again, her voice echoing through the hallway. "We deserve our jobs back. Pembrose built this firm and we helped! Lafayette just swoops in and tears it apart? You have to fix this."
Security started to move toward us, but I gestured for them to stand down. We rode the elevator in tense silence.
As soon as we reached my office, she closed the door behind her and spun around to face me. "You need to do something about this, Vance. Not just sit here, in his office, without a care in the world!"
I walked around my desk and sat down, signaling for her to sit as well. She remained standing, her arms crossed.
"Clara, I—" I tried again, but she steamrolled over me.
"You can't just ignore the reputation we established. We deserve this new direction the firm is heading to not tarnish our names. This place needs people with decades of experience, decades of learning from Michael."
I took a deep breath, waiting for a brief pause in her tirade. "Sure."
She blinked, momentarily thrown off. "What?"
"I said sure. I should not be calling the shots. I should not be the most senior partner with only weeks of employment. We do need Michael, but let me clarify one thing Clara. I did not let this happen, and I am not on Lafayette's side."
Clara stared at me, her anger momentarily deflated by confusion. "You mean... you did not? You weren't aware?"
"Yes, wait no," I said, smiling despite the situation.
"You met with him before any of us last week. You've met with him outside of work? But you're not working with him?" Clara's compound leading question was dripping with accusation.
"Don't try to bait me," I snapped defensively. "At least he cared enough to visit Mister Pembrose in the hospital! I never saw you there once."
"Some of us had a company to stop from imploding while the new guy ran off in his emotions. Richard, you are still a child. You do not know how things work and you need a hand to guide you." She threw her business card at me, the small rectangle of cardstock fluttering onto my desk.
"You've been busy," I remarked, my voice laced with sarcasm.
"Some of us are still paying off our loans and have to pay rent. Have Sarah call us when things start crumbling." Her tone was biting, her frustration palpable.
She stormed out, slamming my door behind her. The sound reverberated through the office, shaking the glass walls. Moments later, Sarah came in quickly, her eyes wide with concern.
"What did she want?" Sarah asked, her tone hushed but urgent.
"Nothing important," I replied, waving off the encounter.
"Well, speaking of important," she continued, "Lafayette has delayed his return. He said you will need to prepare for the next board meeting without him."
"Thanks, Sarah," I said, trying to keep the fatigue from my voice.
She nodded and left, closing the door gently behind her, a stark contrast to Clara's dramatic exit. I turned to the window, flipping Clara's business card between my fingers, letting my thoughts drift as I stared at the cityscape.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the office grew quieter with each passing minute. The distant hum of the city's nightlife began to replace the din of the workday. The card's edges grew warm from the friction, a tangible reminder of the earlier confrontation.
Lost in thought, I stayed long after everyone else had left for the evening. My mind was a whirl of plans, doubts, and unresolved questions. Finally, in a moment of frustration, I threw the card. It flew through the air, embedding itself into the spine of a volume of the municipal legal code on the bookshelf.
The office was silent once more, save for the faint ticking of the wall clock.