She got up and poured him a cup of coffee and brought it over. “Make sure you go straight home tonight. No bars. You need a good night’s sleep.”
“So we can do this all over again tomorrow.”
“Hey, it’s a living. I got over a hundred in tips today.”
Christopher smiled. “Good for you,” he said. “You worked hard today.”
Lucy got up and got her jacket. She left through the back door and down the alley to South Street. It was too late for a bus so she made her way to the Fulton Street subway station. She caught a train and fifteen minutes later she was at her stop. She got off at the Forty-Sixth Street station on Queens Boulevard and made her way two blocks south to the apartment she was living at with her parents and sister. The area they lived in might have once been thriving but all Lucy could see was shuttered up windows and closed businesses. Her apartment was in a squat, brick building above an old grocery store. A fire escape was attached to the front. It was midnight when she finally got to the door.
Inside were her two parents, Mabel and Al Mayfair, her older sister Shirley, and her sister’s baby. The reasons they all lived together in this tiny apartment were a lesson in bad financial planning. Just a few years ago Lucy never could have imagined that they’d all be living like this. When she was a little girl they’d had a beautiful brownstone house in the affluent Brooklyn Heights neighborhood. They’d each had their own bedroom, a beautiful garden with tall oak trees, a pool in the back. Lucy and her sister had grown up there, gone to school at one of the best public high schools in Brooklyn, and seemed set to have nice, comfortable, successful lives. But then a few years back her father’s engineering business, Mayfair Automotive, had begun to falter. What had once been a successful specialist engine tuning company had over the years gotten into serious financial difficulties. Her father had always been more of an inventor than a businessman and that was what had gotten him into trouble. He loved old muscle cars and had put all of his money into an idea for improving the horsepower of a turbocharged engine. He spent a small fortune running tests on the new turbocharger, he’d given thousands of dollars to attorneys to patent the invention, but it was impossible to sell his product until it had federal approval. He pushed hard to get it approved but had come up against one regulation after another that kept him from putting it on the market. Before he knew it he was so far in debt that he had to put a lien on the business. Then he’d gotten a mortgage on the family home in Brooklyn. At first he’d been able to get money from the banks, his business had a good track record, but as things got increasingly desperate he had to find new ways to get credit. When the banks started rejecting his applications he turned to private financing companies he’d found in the classified section of the New York Times. A finance company gave him the money he needed but at an extortionate interest rate. A few months later he missed a payment. Yet another federal regulation had blocked him from selling his turbocharger. He knew the invention would work but the finance company wasn’t interested. They took the Mayfair family home. The whole family had been stunned and in desperation had found this cheap apartment in Queens. Now, the finance company was trying to take the company too, along with the patents, the turbocharger, everything. It was killing Lucy’s father and she knew it.
At the time they lost the house, Lucy had already been looking for her own place. She’d wanted to move in with some roommates in the city and get some independence. But the blow of losing their home had been such a shock to her parents. A week later, Shirley announced that she was pregnant and didn’t know who the father was. Their mother couldn’t even understand that. She was in such shock from losing the house, it
“So we can do this all over again tomorrow.”
“Hey, it’s a living. I got over a hundred in tips today.”
Christopher smiled. “Good for you,” he said. “You worked hard today.”
Lucy got up and got her jacket. She left through the back door and down the alley to South Street. It was too late for a bus so she made her way to the Fulton Street subway station. She caught a train and fifteen minutes later she was at her stop. She got off at the Forty-Sixth Street station on Queens Boulevard and made her way two blocks south to the apartment she was living at with her parents and sister. The area they lived in might have once been thriving but all Lucy could see was shuttered up windows and closed businesses. Her apartment was in a squat, brick building above an old grocery store. A fire escape was attached to the front. It was midnight when she finally got to the door.
Inside were her two parents, Mabel and Al Mayfair, her older sister Shirley, and her sister’s baby. The reasons they all lived together in this tiny apartment were a lesson in bad financial planning. Just a few years ago Lucy never could have imagined that they’d all be living like this. When she was a little girl they’d had a beautiful brownstone house in the affluent Brooklyn Heights neighborhood. They’d each had their own bedroom, a beautiful garden with tall oak trees, a pool in the back. Lucy and her sister had grown up there, gone to school at one of the best public high schools in Brooklyn, and seemed set to have nice, comfortable, successful lives. But then a few years back her father’s engineering business, Mayfair Automotive, had begun to falter. What had once been a successful specialist engine tuning company had over the years gotten into serious financial difficulties. Her father had always been more of an inventor than a businessman and that was what had gotten him into trouble. He loved old muscle cars and had put all of his money into an idea for improving the horsepower of a turbocharged engine. He spent a small fortune running tests on the new turbocharger, he’d given thousands of dollars to attorneys to patent the invention, but it was impossible to sell his product until it had federal approval. He pushed hard to get it approved but had come up against one regulation after another that kept him from putting it on the market. Before he knew it he was so far in debt that he had to put a lien on the business. Then he’d gotten a mortgage on the family home in Brooklyn. At first he’d been able to get money from the banks, his business had a good track record, but as things got increasingly desperate he had to find new ways to get credit. When the banks started rejecting his applications he turned to private financing companies he’d found in the classified section of the New York Times. A finance company gave him the money he needed but at an extortionate interest rate. A few months later he missed a payment. Yet another federal regulation had blocked him from selling his turbocharger. He knew the invention would work but the finance company wasn’t interested. They took the Mayfair family home. The whole family had been stunned and in desperation had found this cheap apartment in Queens. Now, the finance company was trying to take the company too, along with the patents, the turbocharger, everything. It was killing Lucy’s father and she knew it.
At the time they lost the house, Lucy had already been looking for her own place. She’d wanted to move in with some roommates in the city and get some independence. But the blow of losing their home had been such a shock to her parents. A week later, Shirley announced that she was pregnant and didn’t know who the father was. Their mother couldn’t even understand that. She was in such shock from losing the house, it
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