Chapter Twenty-Two The Backroom Betrayal
Jenn puts an arm on my shoulder. “I’m sorry you heard that, Sana.”
I turn sharply and look at Jenn. “Mom sold the building, didn’t she?”
Jenn nods, but she doesn’t say anything.
I can’t believe it. Mom sold her building and didn’t tell me. Which I suppose isn’t a surprise—I did overhear Mom and Jenn talking about it months ago. But that day Mom also said she wouldn’t do anything without talking to me first.
“She’s closing the store? Where are we going to live?”
Jenn picks up her phone. “This is something your mother should talk to you about. I’ll call her.”
After a short phone call, Jenn tells me that Mom will meet me here at Cosmic in ten minutes. She must be closing the flower shop for this. And I guess it doesn’t matter, since she sold it anyway. I cross my arms and sit on the stool behind the counter. My hands can’t stop shaking.
I know those people with Su Lin were real estate developers.
The kind that Julie was talking about, ones who want to tear up Love Street.
They said all the work we did for the festival would make the street attractive for new storefronts, so clearly they’re kicking out the stores that are already here.
I did all this work to keep Love Street the way it is, and those people saw it as a reason to destroy it.
Miles, too.
That man, Ashwin, clearly said Miles had an internship with him. Was that who Miles was meeting today? Why did my father , of all people, refer Miles for the job?
I don’t think I’ve ever, in my whole life, felt as betrayed by the people I care about most. Mom, Jenn, Miles. Hell, even Dad. Maybe even Sarina knew. After all, Sarina and Miles have recently become friends. Sarina even asked Miles to keep secrets from me, whatever they are.
But my family has never talked about serious things with me. To them, I’m too immature to handle the truth, too sensitive for the hard reality of life, and too frivolous for important conversations. I’m used to it—I don’t expect them to see the real me.
That’s why what Miles did hurts the most.
Miles did see me. He respected me for my optimism and for my romanticism about my street. He knew how much I wanted Love Street to thrive. And most of all, he promised we’d be honest with each other. He broke that promise.
Mom was right. Miles is just like my father.
Mom walks into the store then, her face as white as a ghost. She’s in her regular floral-arranging outfit of overalls with a bandanna around her hair. Classic crunchy granola Mom. But it turns out Mom’s a sellout to developers after all.
“Sana, I’m sorry you found out about the sale that way,” Mom says as she walks toward me, shaking her head. “I wanted to tell you myself… after the festival.”
“Why after the festival?” I spit out, bitter. “Is it because you didn’t want me to stop working on the event? The event that’s only making the street more attractive to developers who are going to bulldoze it all to the ground?”
Mom shakes her head. “Sana, that’s not fair.”
“Why don’t you guys go to the back room?” Jenn says gently. It’s probably a good idea. There are customers in here. Jenn gives my arm a little rub.
I exhale. I know I don’t have much of a choice but to hear Mom out.
The back room at Cosmic is bigger than the ones across the street where the flower shop is.
In fact, all the stores on this side are bigger, and newer.
Not exactly new—I think this building is fifteen years old.
But the buildings across the street where the flower shop is are over sixty years old.
And, of course, on this side there are already condos above the stores. Four stories of them.
I guess that’s what they want to do across the street.
Stores with condos above them. Except probably even more than four stories.
One of those mixed-use neighborhoods that Miles loves.
I sit on one of the chairs that Jenn keeps back here and put my head in my hands. I don’t want to look at Mom right now.
“Sana, they aren’t going to bulldoze Love Street to the ground,” Mom says. “Everyone’s goal here is the same. To turn this street into a vibrant, sustainable… affordable community.”
I huff at that. No one is going to be able to afford brand-new condos.
I look up at her. “Why did you do it, Mom? Without even talking to me. You didn’t even give the festival a chance to turn the street around.
” I don’t tell her that I overheard her months ago telling Jenn that she wouldn’t do this without telling me.
I don’t want her to know I was eavesdropping.
Mom sighs and sits on another chair. We’re surrounded by racks of clothes.
I can see one rack only has red and pink pieces.
That must be for the festival booth. “I’ve been getting offers to sell for a while,” Mom says.
“We all have on our side of the street. I always refused. I know how much you love it here, and this community is so special. But…” She sighs.
“Sana, it’s time. You’re finished high school.
Your grandparents are getting older. They need me closer to them.
And, honestly, walk-in sales aren’t high enough to cover the costs of the building. ”
I shake my head. “But the whole reason for planning the festival was for us ! The flower installation in the park is specifically to bring new customers to the flower shop. And it will.” Does she think of me the same way my father does?
That I’m all vision and no execution? I’m hurt.
I thought my mother had more faith in my abilities.
“I know, honey. I appreciate all you’ve done.
Really.” Mom reaches out and squeezes my arm, but I pull it away and cross my arms in front of me.
I try to ignore the hurt look on her face.
“I’m not closing Morgan Ashton Flowers, just adapting to a changing market.
People don’t wander into the neighborhood florist to get a bouquet for their sweetheart anymore.
Everything is done online. I can run an online florist out of a warehouse space up north for a fraction of what I’m paying here.
And a bigger space would mean I can do more large floral installations like what we’re doing for the festival.
I’m going to look at a space tonight actually.
It’s ten minutes from your Nani and Nana’s house. ”
I blink. So that’s where Mom’s going tonight. Here I was, excited that Miles and I will finally have some time alone, not knowing my mom is in the middle of uprooting our whole lives.
“What does Dad have to do with this?” I shake my head, trying to process this giant blow. “There was a developer guy here who said he knew Dad.”
“Your father brokered the sale. He’s been trying to convince me to sell for years, but he knew I wouldn’t while you still wanted to live here.”
I make a sour face. “Is that why he asked me to move in with him in September?”
“He asked you to move in with him?” Mom’s brows knit together. “I’m sorry, Sana, I had no idea. That’s so… manipulative. He was probably trying to take away my opposition to selling. You don’t have to live with him if you don’t want to.”
“I have zero intention of moving in with Dad and Noureen.” But where will I live? It’s more than I want to deal with right now. I’m starting university in, like, six weeks. “You know Dad’s manipulative. Why are you selling to him?”
Mom shrugs. “I’m not selling to your father. He’s only the agent on the deal. And, at the end of the day, your father’s financial well-being is important to me, because my favorite person in the world is his daughter.”
I don’t say anything to that. My parents have finally figured out how to work together, and they’re working to take away my home.
“These developers aren’t the bad guys,” Mom says.
“I liked their plans. Even Jenn likes them. They are one of the few housing developers committed to providing medium-density, affordable housing for the city. The storefronts will all be modern and larger, and there will be fifty housing units above. There will even be units set aside for the rental market. One of the founders of the company used to be a planner for the city. They want to build a whole community—with commercial and residential together.”
“We already have a community.”
“Sana, it’s all falling apart. The land is worth more. And there’s a housing crisis in the city.”
“They are going to gentrify Love Street. They’re going to bring in chain stores and kick everyone out like Mrs. Kozlak, and the street will look like every ‘trendy’ new area with no unique charm.” I’m pouting and rambling, but I think I’m entitled.
Mom doesn’t say anything to that because she knows I’m right. I wipe away a tear. “I don’t get why you didn’t tell me. I’m not a kid. This is my life too.”
After a few moments of silence, Mom finally speaks.
“I know. I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I just accepted the offer. I haven’t even signed the final paperwork yet.
You’ve been so focused on the festival; I didn’t want this news to get in your way.
And I don’t want the other businesses on the street to know yet. I’m the first to sell.”
I don’t think that’s a good enough excuse. I know my mother still sees me as a little kid, and I hate proving her right, but in this moment all I want to do is throw a tantrum.
“I hate change,” I say. I wonder what people thought fifteen years ago when the old stores on this side of the street—where Cosmic Vintage and LoveBug are—were torn down. Were they upset that Love Street was changing? Were they angry about new condos in the area?
Mom smiles sadly. “I know, sweetheart. But things are going to change whether we want them to or not. This way we can at least have some control of what the future will look like.”