Page 7 of My Book Boyfriend
“I can design posters for you to publicize what they’re doing and protest it.” Miranda pulls out her pad and sketches a few lines. She just had a hugely successful art show. “And I can create a painting we can auction off to raise money.”
“That would be amazing,” I say.
Another whoosh of cold air, and Mrs. Potter enters with Maddie.
“This place really needs one of those curtains around the entrances,” Miranda says.
“But then you can’t see who’s entering,” Iris says. She’s definitely the one focused on security. She made us all take jujitsu self-defense.
Mrs. Potter’s curly, gray hair is held back by a black kerchief, and she seems to walk a bit slower than usual. I only hope I age as well as Mrs. Potter has. She could easily pass for sixty, with her barely wrinkled, brown skin. Mrs. Potter and I have worked so hard to build this garden and the community around it, staying up late for nights on end, applying for grants and organizing activities.
We take our beverages and join Mrs. Potter and Maddie at a grouping of armchairs in the front. Miranda waves goodbye as she moves to help another customer.
I sit next to Mrs. Potter, who turns to me with a reassuring smile. I probably didn’t hide very well how shaken I was this morning when she called me.
Maddie presses her palms to her face, trying to warm it, her flushed cheeks bright against her white skin. She opens up her always-overflowing bag. We tease her that it’s like Mary Poppins’s bag, but she insists that she can find everything in it. And because she’s a reporter forThe Intelligencer, she never knows when she’s going to be sent out on an assignment, so she always carries everything with her. She digs out her notepad.
The door opens one more time, and Tessa enters. Her heels click on the wooden floor as she walks over to drop off her briefcase.
“Why are you wearing a suit?” Maddie asks in her typical leave-no-question-unasked fashion.
“I had an appearance in court today,” Tessa says. “Has everyone ordered? Can I get something for anyone?” She takes orders from Maddie and Mrs. Potter and then walks over to say hello to her roommate, Miranda.
“I still can’t believe they’re kicking you out,” Iris says.
“And I thought I’d finally gotten rid of all the rats threatening the garden.” Mrs. Potter hands around copies of the notice for the Oasis Community Garden to “cease and discontinue its unauthorized use of the property.”
My stomach plunges. Seeing the text in black and white is even worse than hearing Mrs. Potter’s reading it on our phone call this morning. The notice looks so official and final.
How can we win? We’re just a ragtag bunch of volunteers up against a Goliath real estate developer.
My hands feel clammy at the thought of confronting them, and I rub them against my jeans under the table. “What can we do to stop them? We can protest outside their office building. The demonstrations for more library funding at City Hall always have some impact.” I usually create a book costume. I guess this time, I can create a garden costume.
Tessa sits down in her seat, crossing her legs. The gang—Tessa, Maddie, and Iris—is all here except for Bella. Tessa’s blonde hair is up in a bun, and she looks like the professional lawyer she is. Plus, we’ve got a reporter and a cybersecurity expert. And Mrs. Potter, with her network of community activists. We’re not a completely ragtag bunch. Tessa pulls out a legal pad.
“I pitched my editor, and I can write an article about the garden forThe Intelligencer,” Maddie says. “I’ll need to interview you two. I thought I could also interview some of the families who have vegetable plots, and the fifth graders from the nearby public school who plant in the garden as part of their science class. And I put a call into Strive Developers to get their side. Maybe we’ll get some useful intel.”
“I also did some legal research, and I asked my law firm if I can represent you pro bono. We can argue adverse possession.” Tessa flips over to the next page of her legal pad.
Mrs. Potter says sadly, “I talked to some of my friends, but they weren’t that reassuring. Several community gardens have lost lately. Some are still fighting. I’m going to meet with them tomorrow to get advice. They suggested we try to get it designated as a critical environmental area. That could save it. But it might be difficult now. The Upper West Side has both Riverside Park and Central Park, so it’s not actually short on park space compared to other neighborhoods.”
“That critical environmental area designation seems key,” I say.
Maybe we do have a chance.
Iris pulls out her laptop from her backpack. “I did a little digging on Strive Developers. What you can find on the web nowadays is scary. First, it’s family-run. There’s a grandfather at the top with two sons who don’t get along after a bitter battle for who would be CEO. The first son is CEO, and the second son works in advertising for a different firm. Each one has a child, and there’s another fight for control between the two kids.” Iris takes a sip of her coffee. “The granddaughter started in business school but then switched to architecture, and the grandson has been working his way up through Strive Developers. Unfortunately for us, this garden lot is part of the project that seems to be at the heart of the power struggle. They’ve bought the adjoining three smaller buildings on the block and are planning to tear those down and build a larger, twenty-story building.”
Miranda walks over with a tray and sets down each of the coffees and teas we have ordered. Wisps of steam drift out of each mug. It smells of hazelnut coffee with a slight whiff of Earl Grey tea.
“Anyway, the grandfather’s name is Robert. Here’s a photo of the CEO, Tom Evans, and here are photos of the two grandchildren—Rowena Evans and Rupert Evans.” Iris turns the laptop to face us.
“Did you say Rupert Evans?” I ask.
But his photo is right there, staring me in the face. I just gave the library’s last copy ofHe Had No Ideato Rupert Evans, the man about to destroy my garden.
Chapter two
Rupert
