“You called this meeting, Sassy. What’s the topic?”
She cleared her throat. “Did I tell you that Marion was a psychiatrist at the Ontario Hospital?”
“A few times. I’m looking forward to getting to know her when she’s back.”
“You’ll like her. Anyway, we’ve had some great conversations about the hospital and about when they shut it down. I used to think that was a good idea,” Sassy said. “But I learned a lot from Marion. Just like she said was going to happen, a lot of the former patients are now living on the street.” She’d decided not to tell him about how she’d first met Daniel, huddled on the icy sidewalk. “Here you and I are, gentrifying the city while these patients, people who are mentally ill, have nowhere to live and are freezing outside. What do you think about that?”
“It’s obviously a problem,” he said solemnly. “And it’s going to get worse. Canada’s economy is booming. Over the past four years, our GNP has grown almost ten per cent every year, and investment is rising in nonresidential construction and manufacturing, among other things.”
He was smart, and she knew he tracked the markets, which she was starting to get curious about.
“Why’s it going to get worse if we’re doing so well?”
“Immigration has a lot to do with it. Twenty years ago, the country’s population was just over fourteen million. Now we’re at twenty million, and still growing, and most of those people live in cities. There’s no way, even with the Affordable Housing Act, that the government can keep up the pace of building enough houses to hold them all.”
She took another bite of her sandwich, appreciating the thick layer of mayonnaise. Just the way she liked it. She noticed that Tom had finished his sandwich before she started her second half.
“I’ve thought a lot about Joey lately, obviously, and that’s made me think more about Vietnam, which I hate doing.”
He leaned back in his chair, taking her topic change in stride. “Hard not to.”
“They said the war would end years ago, but North Vietnam is more disciplined than anyone expected.”
“That’s true.”
“Someday, it has to end. Someone will win, but both sides will ultimately lose. So many dead men, not to mention all the women and children. And when it’s over, survivors will return to Canada and the States. Tens of thousands will come back. Where will they go?” She bit her lip, keeping her emotions in check. If she started getting weepy, she’d never finish what she wanted to say. “They’ll be dumped on the street, and no one will care.”
His pale eyes watched hers, shining with sympathy. “People will care.”
“My friend Davey works with TADP. Do you know them? They help out the draft dodgers, finding them homes and jobs. I admire those men who refused to fight. I really do. I still think Joey’s an idiot for going, but everyone has a right to fight for what they believe in.” She dabbed under her nose with a napkin, refusing to cry. “The trouble is, when the men comeback from the war, they will discover a lot of the homes have been taken by men who didnotfight.” She caught her breath. “I’m sorry, Tom. It will be so hard for them. They need a place they can go.”
“There’s no need to apologize. You’re right about all of it.”
“I wonder about Joey, too. If he comes back, will he be the same man he was?” She took a quick breath. “Ugh. This is not what I wanted to talk about, Tom, but I can’t help it. I want my brother back, but I don’t know who he will be when he gets here. And I don’t know who I will be when he needs me. I feel utterly useless.”
“There’s nothing useless about you, Sassy. You’re smart and creative and compassionate. You have so much love in your heart, and that’s what Joey will need. You are capable of so much. When the time is right, you’ll know exactly what to do.” His gaze lowered to her plate. “Are you going to finish that?”
She shook her head, so he reached across for the rest of the sandwich.
She studied him while he took a bite. Under the table, she crossed her fingers, hoping that her suggestion wasn’t nuts. “Well, I have an idea.”
He grinned. “I had a feeling you did. I’m all ears.”
“After the Great Depression, a lot of people couldn’t afford their big homes, so they sold them and moved farther north. Many of the houses they left were turned into rooming houses. Some have up to eight small rooms, with a common kitchen and washrooms.”
She was glad to see the appreciation in his expression. “Sure, but these days people are buying them back and reverting them to single-family homes. More of that gentrification you like to complain about.”
“Well, what if Rankin Real Estate could slow that down a bit? What if we could buy a couple of those big places and find a way to make them into rooming homes for returning soldiers and former patients who have nothing?”
He chewed on his bottom lip a moment, considering. “That’s a big deal, Sassy. A lot of people take advantage of those situations. Without rules, landlords can take the vulnerable tenants’ money for themselves and leave them to their own devices. The living conditions fall apart, nobody’s watching for safety or anything else, and the people there basically have no rights. That’s a pretty slippery slope.”
“But what if—and I know nothing about this, so stop me if it’s crazy—what if these houses were run properly, like a charity? What if we aligned with the community health centres that Marion told me about and maybe ask the government for funding and whatever else we need? Maybe we could join up with TADP and use their resources, even. I’m sure some of Marion’s fellow doctors would donate time. Who knows? With help, some of the people living there might eventually be able to run the places, then they could start to make money for themselves.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “You’ve thought this out.”
“Only a little. I wanted to check with you first. Can we afford something like that?”
He exhaled, his blue eyes fixed on her. “Your dad and I were working on some expensive plans for strip malls and a couple of low-rises. You know he was part owner of your apartment building on Isabella, don’t you?”
