Read Online Trouble in a Big Box (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery) by Judy Alter - Free Book Online Page B

bank because I liked having everyone from tellers to bank officers call me by name and take a real interest in my business. And now it was where Claire worked. I had sold the yoga studio property to the young single mother, who took a chance with her livelihood and her child’s well-being to make a dream come true. I checked on her from time to time—she wasn’t getting rich, but she was hanging on. Taking her classes was one of the things I told myself I’d do when I had time—somehow that appealed to me more than Claire’s offer. Keisha sometimes brought us tacos for lunch from that taqueria. Those businesses were more than old buildings. They were people to me—and that’s what matters in Fairmount.
    “The businesses, junk or not, aren’t the point. The buildings are on the national historic register. You can’t just tear them down.” At one square mile, Fairmount is the largest historic district in the Southwest.
    “We can get a variance. This project is backed by big people. Gas wells. People who have power in the city. We’ll build to fit the neighborhood, believe me. Nothing stark and modern. We might even get Mike Smith to move the Paris Coffee Shop to our property.”
    Mike Smith would love that. His second-generation family business part of a shopping center.
    “What’s the big-box store? I heard some kind of new grocery store.”
    “The Grapevine’s good on this one. That’s close. I’m talking with people behind a new store, Wild Things, an upscale grocery store, like a mini Whole Foods or Central Market, only more focus on local products and less on upscale and gourmet. Locavore is a big thing these days. Golden opportunity for me. They’ll construct, manage, all I have to do is….” His voice dropped off.
    I’d heard all that or most of it from Christian, but what was Tom’s part? “All you have to do is what?” I prompted.
    He looked startled. “Pardon me?”
    “You said all you have to do is but you never finished the sentence.”
    Nervous laugh. “Oh, that. All I have to do is act as liaison with the city, help them get established, do a little marketing.”
    He was covering something. “Tom, you know as well as I do that this is exactly what the neighborhood doesn’t want on Magnolia. We’re trying to improve and restore the entire area, make it like it used to be, not add a lot of unsightly on-the-street parking lots plus all the traffic a shopping center would bring. I can’t support you on this.” I didn’t say that if he built across the street, on the north side of Magnolia, he’d be out of Fairmount. It would still be a travesty. Besides, the spaces on the north side were taken up with new professional buildings, built within the last couple of years and designed to blend into the area. Several blocks west you got into smaller businesses—junk, Tom would have called them. Lili’s Bistro, the restaurant Mike and I loved, Nonna Tata, another favorite, a Middle Eastern restaurant that predated the influx of new restaurants, a Curves Studio, a Mexican restaurant that served authentic Mexican food rather than Tex-Mex and was a breakfast favorite for residents.
    “You’re wrong, Kelly. The young professionals who live in Berkeley and Fairmount and Mistletoe Heights will be delighted to have an upscale grocery—with a café, meals to go, all that good stuff. We’ve got support, petitions signed, the whole works….” He watched me for a reaction, and when he got none, he said, “I’m presenting the proposal to the zoning board next week and I’d love to have your name on it as a supporter. I’ll give you leasing privileges on half the small stores if you can bring in suitable tenants.”
    “There’s not room for satellite stores along with a big box,” I protested. “You’d need at least two full square blocks.” My mind said, A huge chunk of Fairmount.
    “That’s what the architect’s plans are projected on.”
    “Why not put it on Eighth Avenue,