I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn’t notice Yusuf on the sidewalk behind me until he tapped me on the shoulder. “Ready for that coffee?” he asked.
I really wanted to talk to Rashid, but talking to Yusuf about the new restaurant was important too. We walked to Tim Hortons.
The Tim Hortons coffee shop was smaller than Three Sisters, but it was filled with neighbourhood folk grabbing caffeine or a snack before work, young moms seeking a sweet treat for their kids, seniors socializing with friends. I went to order while Yusuf snagged a table at the back, far away from the quartet of retired uncles engaged in a deadly game of gin rummy.
Mr. Lewis was at the counter, and he smiled at me when I joined the line. My answering smile faded as I recognized the man standing beside him—Junaid Uncle. Aydin’s father ignored me, spoke a few quiet words to Mr. Lewis, and left.
“What did he want?” I asked Mr. Lewis when it was my turn to order. A cheerful white man in his late fifties, Mr. Lewis, balding and slightly overweight, was dressed in his usual white polo and dark pants. He shrugged at my query.
“Wanted to know if I was willing to sell the store. I told him no, thank you, and offered him a complimentary drink, which he turned down. Not the friendliest guy, that Junaid fellow,” Mr. Lewis said, filling two cups with fresh coffee and handing me a cookie, my usual order. “He was willing to pay over market value, but I told him this is home and I plan to stay. Heard he’s been hitting up all the stores, kicking the tires to see who he can shake loose. Patel at the convenience store might sell; he’s been thinking of retiring.”
Mr. Lewis’s chatter masked my pounding heart. I remembered Junaid Uncle’s words from the BOA meeting the night before:every last one of you will be bankrupt within five years.If the Shahs started throwing money around Golden Crescent, how long would people hold out before folding?
I returned to Yusuf, disturbed. “Tell me what you know about the Shahs and Wholistic Grill,” I said abruptly, setting his coffee before him.
Yusuf didn’t know much, only that the restaurant would be opening soon, that it was a gourmet diner, and that the menu would offer things like upscale halal burgers, fries, and shakes. He also told me that Brother Musa had not been impressed with Aydin and Junaid Uncle’s behaviour at the meeting. I was sure he hadn’t appreciated my contribution either.
“The whole street is behind your family, Hana. The last thing we want is big business gentrifying Golden Crescent. I’m going to organize a protest during their launch and try to get some traction for this story with local media.”
Clearly Yusuf and his father hadn’t heard about Junaid Uncle’s attempts to buy out the other businesses on Golden Crescent. I filled him in, and he promised to tell his father. I wasn’t confident Brother Musa would be able to do much. Offering to buy businesses wasn’t illegal.
I took another sip of my coffee and glumly broke the cookie in half, offering Yusuf the larger portion. I was too sad to enjoy the snack.
My friend had no such compulsion; he finished his piece in two bites and then leaned back, sighing. “It’s been so long since we just sat around and talked. I used to see you almost every day on the way to school. Now it’s a quick hello when we pass on the street,” he said.
I felt a pang at his words and filled in the image of the person Yusuf was careful not to name. Lily would be with us on the bus downtown, hanging out with us as we ate lunch. Our recent late-night conversation had been the first time I talked to her in months.
“I guess this is part of growing up. No time for friends when there’smoney to be made,” I said lightly. We looked at each other and giggled, and just like that, we were kids again, laughing at an inside joke.
“I’m thinking of doing something big,” Yusuf said after a moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewellery box. I straightened, eyes flying to his face. “You’re the only person I can talk to about this,” he continued. “Do you think Lily and I have a shot?”
“Shouldn’t you have figured that out before you bought a ring?” I reached across and opened the box. A small diamond ring winked back.
“I want her to know I’m serious, that I want to be with her forever. Do you think she will say yes?” Yusuf asked.
I sighed. “I think the two of you are in different places right now.”
“Because she’s going to be a doctor and I’m in social work? I don’t care about that.”
“No,” I explained patiently. “Because your parents don’t approve, and neither do hers. Not now, maybe not ever. Are you okay with that?”
Yusuf shrugged. “They’ll come around, once they realize we want to get married.”
“You don’t know if that’s what she wants! You have to talk to her. Be honest about how hard things will be. You might have to leave Golden Crescent, start over somewhere new.”
“But do you think it will work out?” Yusuf persisted. He had always been like that, had always needed repeated reassurances before he did anything.
“If it doesn’t, Fahim thinks you should marry me,” I answered with a straight face.
We looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Your mom loves me, and your dad doesn’t hate me,” I pointed out.
“Definitely makes sense. Let’s do it. Hana, will you marry me?” Yusuf got down on one knee and batted his lashes at me.
I laughed and looked around the restaurant, hoping no one had noticed our silliness. Aydin stood in the doorway of the Tim Hortons, hands frozen at his sides. His eyes moved from Yusuf, on bended knee, to my face. He quickly exited the shop, and I motioned for Yusuf to get up.
“We can’t get married. You’re too pretty for me,” I said. I hoped my friend hadn’t noticed our unintended audience-of-one rival business owner, or I would never hear the end of it.
