Just then, Lauren spotted the comedy duo of Randolph and Newton in the crowd. Both had on business suits. What the hell were they doing here?
Lauren approached them. Newton held up his hands as if he were afraid to touch anything.
“Alcoholandcats,” said Newton.
“It’s a private event,” Lauren said. “The rules are different. Nice to see you gentlemen. What brings you here? Interested in adopting a cat?” There. Kill ’em with kindness, she figured.
“Ah, no,” said Randolph. “Just being friendly neighbors.”
“This is a private event, but it’s open to the public,” said Newton.
“It’s all on the up-and-up. We consulted our lawyer before putting this on, and he says it’s fine. Also, you may recall, the state of New York changed the law last year. This is all kosher as long as the animals are not allowed in the space where food is prepared. Given that everything was donated from elsewhere, there’s no issue. If you’re not comfortable eating with the cats, there are a couple of tables near the counter, away from the cat area.” Lauren kept her tone light and friendly.
“I’d really prefer that,” said Newton. He snagged a mini-quiche from a nearby tray and then left the cat area.
“He’s a bit of a germophobe,” said Randolph. “So you’re in charge of all this?”
“I’m the manager of the café, yes. But my event planner Paige did most of the work for this particular event. We have these adoption parties quarterly to make room for new cats.”
“Interesting. Very interesting business you have here. Seems a little flash in the pan, though, no?”
“We’ve been open for more than a year. Business is up lately. That seems like more than a flash. There’s a cat café in Chinatown in Manhattan, in fact, that has been around for six years.”
Lauren was curious about why this guy was here, and it made her nervous. She couldn’t help but think they were here to calculate how long it would be until they went out of business. If the Cat Café went under on its own, it saved Randolph the hassle of evicting them if he bought the building…hypothetically. Or replacing the café with something more lucrative, like a bank or a cell phone store. Since technically Diane owned the Cat Café, the café closing would put her at the sort of financial disadvantage that might make her more inclined to sell as well. Lauren reasoned there were a lot of possibilities here, and many of them involved shutting down the Cat Café if Randolph had his way.
She looked around. Diane chatted with what looked like a middle-aged gay male couple—they were similarly groomed and also holding hands—and she wore a purple dress that was a little too formal for the occasion. She held a travel coffee cup with kittens on it in her hand, rather than drinking out of a glass from the bar. It was all very Diane.
Lauren wanted to get out of this conversation but didn’t want to ruin Diane’s evening by inflicting these guys on her. So Lauren said, “If you’re not interested in adopting a cat, we are also taking donations for no-kill shelters in Brooklyn to help them cover their expenses. You can see Monique at the door if you’re interested in donating.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Randolph continued to stand there, looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable, like he was trying to wear her down. To what end, she didn’t know; it wasn’t like she owned this property.
Then Randolph said, “Do you get much business from the tenants in the apartments upstairs?”
Oh, this was bad. If he was inquiring about the tenants upstairs, he was likely wondering if he could evict them, too. Not wanting to admitshewas one of those tenants, Lauren said, “Some. A lot of people who live between Henry Street and the subway station at the end of the block stop in here for coffee on their way to work. Some of them stop and pet the cats, but a lot of them just get their morning cup o’ joe and a pastry.” Lauren was thinking about starting a loyalty program with little cards, a “buy ten, get one free” sort of thing for the morning crowd, hoping to keep her customers loyal when a new coffee shop inevitably opened nearby. “Any ideas with what you will do with the old Star Café space now that you own it?”
“Not yet,” said Randolph.
When no more information seemed to be forthcoming, Lauren said, “Well, it was nice chatting with you. I better mingle and make sure my staff is doing okay. Please help yourself to anything on offer and remember to talk to Monique about donations on your way out!”
Lauren slid away before Randolph could rope her into further conversation. He seemed to take the hint and went to the bar. His presence here was deeply unsettling, but Lauren didn’t want to let that hamper her enjoyment of the evening. Instead, she sought out Paige, who stood on the corner surveying her kingdom.
“Successful evening,” Lauren said.
“Much bigger crowd than I was expecting!”
“It’s good, though. Maybe people will be charmed and continue coming back to the café.”
“Was that the real estate developer you were just talking to?”
“Yeah. I don’t know why he’s here. I wouldn’t worry too much. Diane said she wasn’t selling. End of story, as far as I’m concerned. He can keep trying, but as long as Diane digs in her heels regarding selling, we’re fine.”
Paige smiled. “Good, good. In the meantime, let’s get some more cats into good homes!”
***
The odd thing about talking to Evan was that Caleb got the impression Evan was rooting for him.
