Knock, knock, knock.
Come on. Answer the door, Bumbys. I’m practically in a sweat from speed-walking over here in the humid morning air as early as is respectful. I grab my long hair and fan my neck. Come on, come on, come—
“Mary!” Betty gasps as she opens the door.
What’s going on? I’ve dropped by a million times, and she’s always welcoming, never shocked.
I remember to smooth my brow, smile, and muster up the words, “Hi there. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” I know something’s awry. Betty’s warm beige face is as pale as if she’s seen a ghost.
“Get on in here.” She comes to life again and moves her open palm toward the parlor. “Have a seat. Can I get ya some sweet tea? You look parched.” She runs her fingers through her curly short brown hair, the same chestnut color as my straight locks.
“No, thank you. I’m here because of a letter I received yesterday.”
She freezes mid-amble, slowly turns her head toward me, and giggles. “A letter. Y-Yes. Let me get Dale down here.” She stumbles over to the bottom of the stairs and yells, “Dale, come on down here. Miss Mary is here to see us,” then looks back at me with a grin and grabs the stair rail for support.
I’m left in outer space, dangling and wishing for solid ground. This couch will do for the moment, so I take a seat. At least I wore my bloodstone crystal necklace for courage.
Dale makes his way down the stairs, slow and steady. He doesn’t change his serious facial expression when he notices my presence, his typical bronze glow remaining.
Huh? He’s usually smiling ear to ear when I see him.
“Hi, Mary. How are you this lovely Tuesday mornin’?” He comes to the parlor and sits across from me on his recliner. His short legs extend outward, crossed at his ankles.
“Hello.” My tone matches his flatness. I reach into my crossbody satchel for the letter to hold it up and show him. “I got this letter yesterday that states our building is being put on the market. For sale. This isn’t correct, right?” A girl could hope.
My place has been there since, I don’t know, 1940 at least—or some other year ages ago. The Bumbys probably have owned the beautiful brick structure that takes up most of the block since before I was born, and I’m the big 3-0 now. Who would want to buy an ancient building when they can have their pick of newer ones in other parts of New Orleans? Selling it doesn’t make any sense. Buying it makes even less sense. Nope, no buyers for the building. It’s settled.
And I’ve been there so long now that I can’t imagine residing or working in a new location. I’ve only lived in my childhood home and this one. That building is my whole life now.
What feels like eons of time pass until I see Dale’s lips start to move, like the slow-motion video setting for the camera on my phone. “It’s true.”
The Bumbys exchange a glance with a glimmer of empathy.
I feel like I’m watching a movie instead of experiencing this life-changing news. Two little words have changed my world from the comfort of my successful store and familiar home to the unknown laying ahead for me and Mr. Grayson.
Swallowing hard before being able to speak, I mutter, “I don’t understand.” Much more information is needed, busters, so start spilling.
Betty takes the limelight for a moment. Keeping her voice airy, as if overcompensating for the blow, she says, “Oh, dear. The realtor told us this was the best way to handle it, but I knew we should have told all y’all.” She bites her lip. “See, we aren’t gettin’ any younger, and we’ve been tossin’ over a few options for our later years,” she adds. “We’ve been in this parish our entire lives and want to get out and explore the world a little.” She looks at her husband with heavy eyes.
Dale helps her by chiming in. “We’re planning on an around-the-world cruise. Our ol’ pontoon boat isn’t cuttin’ it anymore for our travelin’ hearts, so we need the money from all of our properties, including this house.” He moves a thin strip of gray hair farther back on his head.
They’re selling e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g? “What do you mean? You’ll be leaving New Orleans completely? Like, for good?” My eyes squint as if it’ll allow me to hear different words.
“That’s right, dear.” Betty’s posture relaxes as the big news releases into the room. “We’ve worked our entire lives, and it’s time to enjoy the fruits of our labor. Once we make it around the world, we’ll choose a place to settle down. Isn’t it excitin’?” Her face glows from the light in her eyes and the huge smile on her face.
I get it. My mouth shifts to the side, along with my head. These sweet people have been kindhearted to me for my entire adult life. How could I be angry with them for wanting to start their next Chapter? And seeing the joy they’re trying to suppress lets me know they don’t want to hurt me. They simply want to have the time of their lives. And they should.
“I’m happy for you both. Really, that sounds like an amazing opportunity.” I’m not lying. I am happy for them, and I do want them to have a terrific retirement. I do. But…
“We were goin’ to meet with you store owners in person, but the realtor insisted on sending those letters first, as a legal thingamajiggy.” Betty looks at her husband with raised eyebrows, signaling help. She’s not as direct as me and usually depends on Dale for most business concerns.
I butt in before he comes to her rescue. “Don’t worry about it. I know now. That’s what matters. You’re doing what you need to do and are taking action as you were advised.” Maybe I do mean as much to them as they do to me.
“Oh, thank you, dear.” Her voice gains strength. “I knew you wouldn’t take it personally.”
Uh…
Dale continues, “It’s because we needed somethin’ in writing so that we gave proper warning for your livelihoods. That was the decent thing to do, after all. And especially for the few of you in our buildings who also call ’em home. We want to give you plenty of time to get your affairs in order.”
“I thank you for that, and I know my neighbors will as well.” I’m trying to sound like my usual tough self while I push down building tears, now at least only because I’ll miss them. Viewing their current smiles, I think they’re buying my act. Maybe.
“It’ll probably take some time to get all of the properties sold, so you have a bit,” Dale adds. “We have this home, your building that has three businesses and homes, and our two other structures with two businesses each in them. I’m sure it’ll take a long while to get them all out from under us,” he reassures.
“Oh, yes!” Betty quickly tries to emphasize this likelihood, shaking her head and enlarging her eyes.
“Okay, well, that’s comforting to hear.” I smile, contributing more to my act. The grip on my now wrinkled-to-death letter loosens, and I stuff it back down into my satchel.
Dale rises from his chair, walks over to me, and puts his hand on my shoulder. “We will keep you updated on the status of your building. We also plan to have a town hall meeting with all of our renters next week so we can answer all the questions at once.”
I place my hand over his and squeeze it. “Thanks.” Looking up at him, then toward his caring wife, I say, “I won’t take up any more of your time today,” and walk to the door.
They both escort me out, and Betty reassures me once more, saying, “All will be fine, Miss Mary.”
I believe they believe what they’re saying, but this may be the first time in my life that I don’t relish the lack of certainty about my future. I don’t like this pit-of-my-stomach ache. This heavy chest sensation. This…fear?