Chapter 10
Tallulah
The coffee shop smelled yummy, the perfect combination of espresso and cinnamon. Most people were seated, but a few stood with covered cups of coffee clutched in their hands.
"Hi," I whispered, winding my way between the tables and waving at familiar faces. There were a few dozen people present tonight for the first after-hours tenants' meeting of the small businesses occupying the first and second floors of the recently renamed Freedom Capital Building.
"Hey, Tallulah," Shelley said.
She sat at one of the tables. She and her wife owned Sugar Crumb Bakery on the first floor, and she still wore her gray apron, dusted with flour as if she had stopped in the middle of preparing one of her confectionary masterpieces to come to the meeting.
She baked with organic flour and sourced local ingredients as much as she could, like the honey they used in some of the desserts.
"Hi, Shelley, how's it going?"
"Great." Her appearance didn't match her answer.
She looked tired and definitely worried, like the rest of us. Her skin was pale, and though her graying hair was in a ponytail, it looked stringy and greasy as if she hadn't washed it in weeks. "I heard Blossom got engaged. Congratulations."
"Thank you. She's getting married pretty quickly, in less than three months."
"Oh my," Shelley said.
"I know. It's been a whirlwind, believe me, but we found her dress last weekend. One task is completed." I made a check mark in the air.
"Good. Planning a wedding is stressful, especially with a short turnaround."
"Tell me about it," I laughed, edging my way toward the front where Mrs. Chen sat with her purse on her lap.
As I sat down beside her, she leaned over. "I am worried."
I patted her hand. "I'm sure we'll be fine."
Tyler Morris, who owned a UPS-style store offering print, copy, and shipping services, had called the meeting by distributing flyers to all of us.
Tyler always had the scoop on everything and everyone.
We knew the building was going on the market before the owner notified us because Tyler had already told us.
He also informed us when it had sold, days before we received correspondence from the new owner.
Leslie, who ran the coffee shop, stood near the front, hands crossed behind her back, her brown face framed by a cute reddish-blonde pixie.
She changed her appearance often with wigs, and every single time they were flattering.
She had been in business less than a year and, as far as I could tell, was having success.
Whenever I came up to the second floor, she had a steady flow of customers from the professionals upstairs—accountants, consultants, and service providers with predictable incomes who didn't rely on walk-in traffic the way we did on the two lower levels.
Tyler walked to the front and cleared his throat, a few papers in his hands. The hum of conversation in the room died, and everyone paid attention to him.
In his late fifties, his thinning hair was carefully combed over a widening bald spot.
He wore wire-rim glasses that constantly slid down his nose, and his shirt was tucked in too tightly, as if he wanted to impress us with a display of authority, though his shoulders curved forward from years of hunching over printing presses.
"I appreciate everyone coming after hours," Tyler said, twisting the stack of papers into a tube.
Not a good sign. He seemed agitated.
"As you know, Freedom Capital Real Estate finalized the buyout last month and renamed the building right away." He rolled his eyes, and soft laughter rippled through the room. "Since the buyout, I've noticed contractors walking the building. Inspectors. People measuring and asking questions."
Zia, who owned a vintage consignment shop, spoke up. "Someone came into my store to inspect the restroom. They might finally fix the toilet I've been complaining about for months."
"Could be good and bad," Tyler said ominously.
My stomach tightened with dread.
"I did some digging," he continued. "Freedom Capital Real Estate has bought up properties in Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio. Same pattern every time. They buy in up-and-coming areas and renovate enough to justify rent increases. As low as twenty-five percent. As high as fifty percent."
The room erupted into gasps and panicked conversations.
"Fifty?"
"Impossible."
"They can't do that!" someone yelled from the back.
Mrs. Chen glanced at me, her hands tightening on her purse. I had no reassuring words to offer. What he had said was definitely bad news.
"I can't afford such a sharp increase," Shelley said.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw her push to her feet.
"A twenty-five percent increase would cripple my business.
Fifty percent would tank it. We'd have to close up shop.
Sales have declined for us every year for the past five years, and we don't know what to do.
We tried branching out into edibles to help cover costs, but folks around here aren't interested. " She shrugged helplessly and sat down.
A few sympathetic nods followed.
I felt bad for Shelley. Her cakes and breads were delicious. I had no idea she had been struggling with revenue to such a degree. I resolved to talk to Blossom. She hadn't picked a bakery for her wedding cake yet. I'd suggest Shelley's shop.
A male voice piped up from the back.
"Rent increases kind of come with growth, though, right?"
Every head turned.
The owner of the juice shop stood at the back against the glass.
Young, athletic, and wearing a vintage T-shirt that probably cost more than my monthly electric bill.
His business partner hovered beside him, also young, arms crossed but smiling as if the meeting was a brainstorming session instead of a crisis.
"High rent is sort of the price of being in a revitalizing area, but it'll be good for all of us in the long run."
The room exploded into anger.
"Easy to say. You're funded!"
"Some of us don't have investors!"
"We've been here longer than you've been alive!"
The voices overlapped, accusations flying right and left. One person jabbed a finger into the young man's face. Everyone's reaction was nothing but raw panic masquerading as anger.
I shot to my feet. "Enough." The diatribe continued, and I became deeply concerned the room would soon come to blows. "Enough!" I repeated in a louder voice.
The word cut through the noise, silence followed, and my heart raced a little. I wasn't someone who typically enjoyed being the center of attention, but these were desperate times.
I moved to stand beside Tyler and scanned the room. "We're not enemies. We're neighbors, and yelling at each other won't stop what's coming."
"He doesn't know what he's talking about," someone yelled from the middle of the room.
"There's some truth to what he said, but he doesn't know our specific situation.
A huge increase in rent is bad anywhere, but it's especially bad for most of us in this room.
" I switched my attention to Tyler. "We need more information.
A timeline for when we can expect the renovations and the increases.
Maybe we could talk Freedom Capital out of the rent increase. "
"I don't think so. This is their MO," Tyler said in a grim tone.
"We can try." I returned my attention to the group. "We need to figure out which businesses are most vulnerable to immediate failure and which ones can last a little longer. We decide together, as a group, what we're willing to accept and what we're not."
Slowly, Mrs. Chen nodded, and others did too.
"What we're not going to do is turn on each other. We need to plan."
"I could pull together the research you suggested. Find out how soon after purchase the renovations usually start and how soon after the rent increases take place," Tyler said.
"I'll help you," Zia offered.
Leslie spoke up next. "We should compile a log of when everyone's lease expires and how many years each of us has been in business at this location. I'm one of the newbies, but I don't mind putting together the log if everyone can turn in the information."
More volunteers spoke up, and soon we were hammering out a strategy on how to deal with the landlord and counteract any negative changes coming down the line.
Before the meeting ended, I raised my hand to quiet the group.
"One last thing before we leave here tonight.
We need to be on the same page and keep our organizing quiet for as long as possible.
If the landlord finds out what we're doing before we've had time to put together a strong argument, we run the risk of them coming down hard on us. "
Tyler nodded. "No side deals. We're all in this together. United we stand, divided we fall and all that."
Nods of agreement spread through the room.
"You, Tallulah, and Leslie should be our point persons. Captains," Shelley said.
A hum of agreement made its way through the group, along with vigorous head nods.
I glanced at Leslie and Tyler, who both nodded they had accepted their roles.
Feeling more optimistic than when I arrived at the meeting, I said, "We'll be your captains. Communications and suggestions should go through one of us."
I hadn't come here tonight expecting to take on more work, but this was my community.
My people. My business, which I had started from practically nothing.
First out of my home and then moving to the retail space downstairs.
I had poured ten years of blood, sweat, and tears into Simply Well, and I wasn't ready to give up on it yet.