But Lina stopped herself from writing back. With age, she’d become less impulsive. Less decisive. What would HPD say if she turned down a partnership with one of the city’s favorite developers?
She knocked on the Scott family door, then wondered if Tyrell was still at the hospital, or if he’d finally returned and conked out. By four a.m., the doctors had pronounced Andre dead, while Kesi was expected to spend three days in the ICU.
But Tyrell reached the front door before his cousin or his aunt. With his bleary eyes and concave cheeks, he looked ten years older than he should have.
“Papi, you burning yourself out. Again. Don’t you got that shift at Best Buy this afternoon?”
He shrugged.
“What time you got home?”
“Like an hour ago.”
Irritably, he tore down the witch decal that his cousin had taped to the door.
“Can we get rid of Halloween?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. “Just give the kids candy on Thanksgiving.”
Lina sighed. “Come over, I’ll make you breakfast. You got to look at something for me.”
He followed her, sat down at her computer, and read the email while she scrambled eggs.
“You ever thought about a joint venture?”
“Young man, what’s a joint venture?”
“A partnership between a nonprofit and a for-profit. Maybe you could partner with this Bernard guy and get your plan done.”
“We working with Trevor’s construction company.”
“Yeah… last time I checked, Trevor’s company don’t got the balance sheet for a winning deal. Sometimes there’s got to be compromises.”
“Give the project to a real estate tycoon? That’s not the right compromise, Ty.”
“Well, at least we go meet with them.”
Lina frowned, but she considered his point.
“You’re a practical kid.” She handed him a plate of eggs and sausage. “Let’s ask the CLT steering committee during Sunday’s meeting.”
“Oh, Ms. Lina—you know Sadie, the reporter? She wants to write a piece about the history of the lot.”
Lina lowered herself into her favorite chair and shook her head. “That reporter don’t look a day over fifteen. I want to know how a child like her gets a job writing about the ’Ville.”
“I thought you liked the piece about Family Day.”
“She did good. That article she wrote about you was nice too. I’m just saying. We got our young adults in the high-security hamsterwheel, and we got children like her deciding our reputations and our futures. I’m talking about who gets to tell our stories.”
“She all right, though, Ms. Lina.” His mouth was full of egg. “She grew up in Park Slope but she did her homework. She actually cares about Brownsville.”
Lina looked over at Ty, and she noticed an unusual brightness to his eyes.
“What’s that smile on your face?”
“Huh?”
“That smile? We talking about that reporter and suddenly, you smiling.”
“Yo.” Ty smushed his face with his hands as if he was wiping it clean, then raised his arms into the air. “I ain’t smiling.”
