Page 61 of Lead Me Knot

“And my shop falls under your jurisdiction?”

“Well, that’s one way to put it. I’m here to help with whatever you need.”

Anger starts bubbling under my cooler demeanor. “By raising my rent so high that it will put me out of business?”

“Well.”

“That’s a lot of wells, Mr. Josten.”

“Well.”

“There you go again. I guess I’m wondering when the management changed and why.”

“The property was sold recently to a venture capital company. They hired us to acquire new contracts for the change.”

“You were told to raise the rent? I’m just surprised that they can increase it in the middle of the lease like this.”

“No, we’re tasked with pricing real estate accordingly. It’s our expertise.” Tapping the contract again, he adds, “And we’re not increasing it in the middle of the lease. Your lease is up in six months. That’s when the increase will kick in.” He sits back in the bistro chair, seemingly proud of the job he’s doing. “That is, of course, if you renew. If you choose not to, then?—”

“I lose my shop.” I look through the window to see something that’s been a part of me my entire life. I think about my mom and all the hard work she put in through debt and paying off overdue bills, working seven days a week for years until I was old enough to cover a shift.

I feel sick.

As I look around Main Street, it’s easy to see that there’s not much here. My shop, the clothing store a few stores down, the post office catty-corner to me, and the fourth-generation-owned grocer across the street. There are more empty spaces than filled. Will any of them be able to survive this kind of corporate greed price increase?

My mom entrusted her shop, her other baby, to me. Am I going to lose Peaches Sundries & More the moment I take ownership? “What are my options?”

It’s the first bit of humanity I’ve seen cross his face. He even takes it a step further by showing me empathy in the shape of his mouth before he speaks. “There are only the two. You sign, or you close the shop and move out.”

I look down at the contract. Two options.That’s it.

Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I ask, “Do I have time to think about it?”

“You have one week to renew the lease per your current contract. It states six months. With the recent change in ownership and needing to get the contracts updated, we’ve added a week to help you out.”

“Thanks,” I reply, not able to be grateful when I’m ultimately being forced out. “What happens if I vacate the spot?”

“The owner has big plans to revitalize the area with new businesses and bonuses to bring new families to town.”

“Bonuses to move here, but nothing for the residents who have lived here for generations?”

He redirects his eyes to a car passing by, not bothering to respond. We both know why. There is no satisfactory answer he can supply.

I stand, taking the paperwork in hand, and say, “It’s a long drive back to Austin. Would you like your coffee to go or a water or soda for the road?”

“A cola would be great. Heavy on the ice.”

Walking to the door, I reply, “Got it.”

I make it just how he requested, the born and raised Southern hospitality side of me coming out, and push through the door to the sidewalk. He’s standing, beads of sweat forming at his hairline.“It’s hot today.”

“That’s Texas for you.” I hand him the drink. “That will be four fifty-nine.” Call me petty, but I seem to have lost my manners. My registers’ gain.

“Oh, okay,” he says, digging his wallet out from his back pocket.

When he hands me a five-dollar bill, I ask, “Keep the change?”

“Sure.” The annoyance coats his reply while the sweat rolls down his forehead. “One week, Ms. Knot. Have a good day.” He walks to his car parked out front, but I stay a moment.

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