‘Five years wasted on a broke loser like you. If anyone should have regrets, it's me!’
She kicked over the trash can at her feet.
The battered wooden box I'd just swept in there tumbled out again, and all those old gifts scattered across the ground with it.
She pointed at the pile, now smeared with mud, her eyes full of scorn.
‘Take a good look, Job. This is what five years got us. Every last piece of it put together isn't worth as much as the bottle Hubert bought my dad today!’
Then she kicked the whole pile toward the crowd.
‘Go ahead, everyone, look! This is everything I got out of five years with Job Delgado!’
Hundreds of eyes swept over the love letters I'd written Doris, the scarf I'd knitted her by hand.
A roar of laughter erupted behind me.
‘Where'd this guy even come from? Showing up at the Pruitts' door looking like that—disgusting!’
‘Just go, kid! Stop embarrassing yourself!’
A few boys pushed their way to the front and started chucking pebbles at me.
‘No money, no pride, wants a wife, get lost!’
The little chant sent the crowd into wave after wave of mocking laughter.
Nobody laughed louder than the Pruitts and Hubert.
They were still at their loudest when a sharp, piercing horn blast ripped through the yard.
Three Maybachs rolled to a stop in front of the Pruitt house, and every head turned.
The doors opened. Several men in suits stepped out, sharp-eyed and all business.
The man in front wore his suit like a uniform, his expression pure deference. It was Tom Finch, the director I'd put in charge of the redevelopment for this village.
Oscar and Lola's eyes lit up. They assumed Hubert had called this in and rushed over, falling all over themselves to greet him.
‘Director Finch! Oh my, what brings you all the way out here? Hubert must've mentioned our redevelopment to you, right? You just say the word—we'll do whatever you need, absolutely anything……’
Hubert swaggered up too, tugging at his ill-fitting suit jacket.
‘Director Finch, you……’
But Tom walked right past them. His gaze landed on me.
His whole bearing shifted—back straightened, chin dipped, open deference for everyone in that yard to see.
He strode over, bowed deep, and placed a rolled-up set of blueprints directly into my hands, his voice ringing clear across the yard.
‘Mr. Delgado, you said you wanted the redevelopment zone redrawn. I've brought every plan we have—just show me where you want the changes……’
