“I’d be giving up and betraying everything I’ve stood for. I’d be the sellout, the traitor. I can’t do that.” She looked him squarely in the eye and he respected her for everything she stood for but they both knew there was no way to make a deal.
“You’re a woman of principle, Spencer. But you’re paying a high price for those principles.”
“Better that than selling my soul, and my grandfather’s legacy.”
They had another glass of wine and talked about other things, but the deal they’d been talking about weighed heavily on them both. It was never going to happen. He wanted to invest in the store, but he had to do it on his terms, he couldn’t on hers.
“What about a smaller investor, who would ask for less?” she asked him.
“You won’t get enough return on the deal for a small investment. And a big investor wants control. That’s how those deals work.” She knew it too.
She was quiet when they walked out to the street. It had been a futile effort meeting him to negotiate, and he looked unhappy. He would have loved to invest in Brooke’s and work with her, but not on her terms.
“Call me if I can do anything,” he said as they stood on the sidewalk. He didn’t want to insult her by saying “if you change your mind,” because he knew she wouldn’t. She was too proud to give up her principles and too honorable to let her grandfather down, even if it meant giving up millions from an investor who would take control and change the store forever.
They lingered for a few minutes, neither of them wanting to leave.
“I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mike,” she said sincerely.
“You didn’t. I loved seeing you. I wish I could find a way to make it work, in a better way for you.”
“Yeah, me too. We’ll be fine as we are,” she said bravely, and he knew they would be for a while, and then one day they wouldn’t, with the model they had now. What he was offering her was a secure future, but the end of a dream. Spencer still believed in dreams.
He shared a cab with her to go downtown, and dropped her off at her house in Chelsea. She didn’t invite him in for another drink. It was late by then, and they were both tired, and she wanted to see her boys. It had been a disappointing meeting. Paul was foolish to have her try to negotiate with Mike again. There was no negotiation possible. It was either give up control or there was no deal. She watched Mike in the cab as it drove away, and wondered if she’d ever see him again.
Mike was eating pizza and watching TV with Zack when Jenny called them that night. She talked to her brother, and then her father.
“Did you see the article in The New York Times on Sunday about Spencer Brooke?” she asked him.
“No.” And Spencer hadn’t mentioned it when they had drinks. Maybe she had forgotten. “I just had a meeting with her. What did it say?”
“She started something called ‘Free Love’ in an old garage downtown in a bad neighborhood. They’re giving away bags of brand-new clothes and tools and food and supplies to homeless people. There are signs on the windows of the store about it. In exchange, they’ve made a discreet request that the homeless people not camp out in front of the store, because it upsets their customers. And so far, it’s working. But Spencer Brooke is giving away a fortune in new goods to the homeless people who turn up to get them. A hundred bags a week so far, and they’re thinking of giving more. They hand it out one or two nights a week, with a small staff to pack the bags they give away and hand them out. She’s paying for it all herself, it’s not paid for by the store.” Mike was silent for a moment, thinking about it. She hadn’t said a word about her project. It was a stroke of brilliance to use it as gentle persuasion to get the homeless to stop camping out in front of the store. She was helping them and the store at the same time.
“She’s an amazing woman,” he said to Jenny. “I just turned down her deal again, or more precisely, she turned down mine. She won’t give up control of the store, and she’d have to for us to want to invest in it.”
“She must love the store a lot,” Jenny said quietly.
“She does,” he said.
“It shows. I’d really love to meet her sometime, Dad. I’d love to work for her. Maybe I can next summer, and then I’d be in New York, and I could stay with you too.”
“You can stay with me anytime, and I’d be happy to introduce you to Spencer whenever you want. I wonder why she didn’t tell me about her project,” except he knew why. She was a profoundly modest woman, and didn’t want to brag about what she was doing. The project sounded remarkable to him. And if Jenny hadn’t mentioned it, he’d never have known. He had been so busy lately with Zack, he had just scanned the papers on some days.
“You should donate to Free Love, Dad,” Jenny suggested, sounding passionate about it.
“She didn’t ask me to or tell me about it. I’ll have to look into it. Thanks for telling me about the article.” He looked it up after they ended the call, and it was all there. There were no photographs, in order to respect people’s privacy, but he was vastly impressed by the description of the project, and Spencer for organizing it.
He was sorry that he couldn’t give her the investment money she needed to give longevity to the store. But if she wouldn’t give up majority control, there was nothing he could do, and he understood her reasons for it.
He read the article again that night after Zack went to bed and he was alone. She was a remarkable woman, and he wished there was more that he could do for her. Instead, she did for everyone else, even for her grandfather long after he was gone, at her own expense. And Mike couldn’t do anything to help. She was on her own.
Chapter 12
Mike was watching TV with Zack, as they did every night. It was a British spy series that they’d been following together since Zack got back, and Mike switched to the late-night news when the episode was over. Zack rolled himself to his bedroom in the chair. He was getting quite adept at fending for himself, and couldn’t wait to get his casts off. They had settled into a friendly routine together.
Mike was watching the local news when a familiar sight filled the screen. It was Brooke’s, lit up with police in riot gear filling the street around it. The announcer explained that a full-blown war had erupted downtown, between two rival gangs of drug dealers on the edge of Chelsea. Some big shipment of drugs had been delivered from South America, and there was a shootout between rival distributors in the two gangs. Three men had been shot on one side, and two on the other, a passerby had been injured, and one police officer was in critical condition. The narcotics squad was there in full force, and SWAT teams, and shots rang out while the announcer explained the situation from a covered position at a safe distance. And behind the scene of carnage sat Spencer’s store.
She saw it on TV at the same time Mike did, and heard the announcer say that there was some concern that looting might occur. Two of the store’s windows had been shattered and the glass had been completely shot out of one of them, giving easy access to the store known for its expensive, exclusive merchandise. Burglar alarms could be heard sounding in the distance as Spencer hurriedly put on shoes and a denim jacket with her jeans and T-shirt and rushed to tell Francine she was going out. She didn’t say where or why.
She found a cab in a few minutes to travel the short distance to the store. There were police officers and barricades blocking traffic, and they stopped the cab a few blocks from the store. Spencer paid the driver and got out and spoke to one of the officers. There were ambulances speeding by.
“You can’t go down that street, miss.” A police officer wearing a bulletproof vest stopped her. “Do you live there?”
Spencer pointed to the lit-up hulk of Brooke’s. “That’s my store.”
“There’s active gunfire.” They heard shots ring out in the distance after he said it, and Spencer looked at him, shocked.