Chapter 5 - A Battle for Eastside
Victoria spread the documents across her dining table.
For three nights, she barely slept.
The Eastside Community Center needed at least forty thousand square feet, access to public transportation, a commercial kitchen, classrooms, and space for temporary medical services.
Every suitable building was either too expensive or too far from the families it served.
At the bottom of the folder, she found information about an abandoned public school six blocks from the existing center.
The school had been closed for twelve years.
A development company had recently submitted a proposal to convert it into luxury condominiums.
Victoria recognized the company.
Sterling Urban Holdings.
Its chief executive was Charles Whitmore, one of the men who had attended the Herrera gala.
Victoria called Alejandro at 1:14 in the morning.
He answered after four rings.
“Is someone hurt?”
“No.”
“Then why are you calling at one in the morning?”
“The Franklin School.”
There was a pause.
“What about it?”
“It’s perfect.”
“It is under contract.”
“Not yet. The city council votes next month.”
“Sterling has already spent two years negotiating.”
“Then we have one month to ruin their plan.”
Alejandro’s voice became cautious.
“What are you proposing?”
“A competing bid.”
“The city rejected our inquiry last year.”
“Because you offered to purchase it privately.”
“Yes.”
“Sterling is promising tax revenue and luxury development. We need to offer something larger.”
“The foundation cannot match their projected revenue.”
“Not in money.”
Alejandro was silent.
Victoria continued.
“Offer the city a complete community campus. Housing assistance, medical clinics, job training, child care, senior services.”
“That will increase operating costs.”
“I know.”
“By millions.”
“I know.”
“Where do you intend to find the money?”
Victoria looked at the guest list from the gala.
“From the people who came to your house to prove how generous they were.”
By nine the next morning, Victoria stood in Alejandro’s office.
Ricardo sat at the conference table reviewing her proposal.
“This assumes that gala donors will increase their contributions by forty percent,” he said.
“They will.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to make refusing socially uncomfortable.”
Alejandro raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds familiar.”
Victoria ignored him.
“We announce a founding council. Every major donor receives public recognition based on the program they fund.”
Ricardo shook his head.
“Some of our donors prefer privacy.”
“Then they can remain private. I’m interested in the ones who paid photographers to capture them entering the gala.”
Alejandro leaned back in his chair.
“You want to use vanity to fund compassion.”
“I want to use the tools available.”
“And Sterling?”
“We expose what their project will cost the neighborhood.”
“They’ll accuse us of opposing development.”
“We don’t oppose development. We propose a better version.”
Ricardo turned another page.
“You included affordable housing above the community facilities.”
“Eighty units.”
“The building is a protected historical structure.”
“I spoke with an architect at six this morning. The classrooms can be converted without altering the exterior.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“You spoke to an architect?”
“Three.”
“When did you sleep?”
“I didn’t.”
He studied her for several seconds.
“Why are you doing this?”
Victoria’s irritation surfaced.
“Do you ask everyone that whenever they help?”
“Only people who recently called my employees socially inferior.”
Ricardo looked down, hiding a smile.
Victoria took a breath.
“I’m doing it because the center matters.”
“To whom?”
“To the people who need it.”
“Good answer.”
“It isn’t an answer. It’s the truth.”
Alejandro stood and walked to the window.
“Charles Whitmore will fight.”
“I know.”
“He funds two city council members.”
“Then we make the vote too visible to purchase quietly.”
“You enjoy this.”
Victoria’s eyes sharpened.
“I understand people like him.”
“Because you are one of them?”
“Because I spent years trying to become one of them.”
Alejandro turned.
“And now?”
“Now I know what they’re afraid of.”
“What?”
“Being seen clearly.”
Alejandro smiled.
“Prepare the presentation.”
The campaign began that afternoon.
Victoria contacted every influential guest she had once worked so hard to impress. Some refused her calls. Others listened only after learning Alejandro supported the project.
Cynthia Vale met her at a café.
“You look tired,” Cynthia said.
“I am.”
“And those shoes are surprisingly ordinary.”
“They cost sixty dollars.”
Cynthia stared.
“Are you ill?”
“I need your husband’s bank to pledge two million dollars to the Eastside campus.”
Cynthia laughed.
“You disappeared for weeks and invited me here to ask for two million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because the Vale Community Health Pavilion would look excellent on the building.”
Cynthia’s smile faded.
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
“What do we receive?”
“Public recognition, tax advantages, and the opportunity to provide medical services to thousands of families.”
“And Alejandro’s approval?”
Victoria leaned back.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The only question you care about.”
Cynthia’s eyes narrowed.
“You sound like him.”
“I’m beginning to understand him.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Will you speak to your husband?”
Cynthia stirred her coffee.
“What happened between you and Alejandro?”
“Nothing.”
“People say he invited you into the foundation.”
“He invited me to wash dishes.”
Cynthia laughed.
Victoria did not.
“You actually did it?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had to.”
Cynthia examined her face.
“You’re different.”
“I’m busy. Will you speak to your husband?”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Arrange the meeting.”
Cynthia smiled.
“There you are.”
The Vale Bank pledged one million dollars, contingent on the city approving the project.
Other donors followed.
Yet Sterling Urban Holdings fought back.
Charles Whitmore appeared on television, calling the foundation’s plan “an emotional fantasy designed by wealthy outsiders.”
Victoria watched the interview in Alejandro’s office.
“He knows you grew up in Eastside,” she said.
“He also knows facts are less useful than repetition.”
Charles continued on-screen.
“The Herrera proposal would remove valuable property from the tax base and burden the city for decades.”
Victoria turned off the television.
“We need the financial-impact report.”
“It will be completed next week,” Ricardo said.
“The council hearing is in three days.”
“The consultants need time.”
“We don’t have time.”
Alejandro studied the documents on his desk.
“Whitmore accelerated the hearing.”
“Can he do that?”
“He persuaded the council chairman.”
Victoria paced.
“He wants a vote before we’re ready.”
“Yes.”
“Then we delay it.”
“How?”
She stopped.
“Historical review.”
Ricardo frowned.
“The building is already protected.”
“The basement isn’t.”
Both men looked at her.
Victoria continued.
“The original school was built over the foundation of an immigrant settlement house. I saw it in the archives.”
Alejandro’s eyes narrowed.
“If there are archaeological remains, the city cannot approve construction without a review.”
“Exactly.”
Ricardo began typing on his tablet.
“That could delay the vote by sixty days.”
“Enough time to finish the report.”
Alejandro looked at Victoria.
“How did you find this?”
“I read the entire property file.”
“There were eight hundred pages.”
“I was motivated.”
They filed the historical petition that afternoon.
The next morning, Victoria received a call from Charles Whitmore.
“Miss Montgomery,” he said. “I believe we should meet.”
“I don’t.”
“You filed a petition that could cost my company millions.”
“I filed a petition requiring the city to follow the law.”
“Let’s not pretend this is about history.”
“It’s about the future.”
Charles chuckled.
“You’ve become very dramatic since Herrera embarrassed you.”
Victoria’s hand tightened around the phone.
“What do you want?”
“To help you.”
“How?”
“I understand your social situation has become difficult.”
“My situation is not your concern.”
“It could improve.”
She said nothing.
Charles continued.
“Withdraw the petition. Publicly state that the foundation’s proposal is financially irresponsible. In return, Sterling will name you director of community relations.”
Victoria laughed.
“The position pays four hundred thousand dollars,” Charles said.
Her laughter stopped.
“You would regain access to every room that has closed its doors to you.”
“Why me?”
“Because people love redemption stories.”
“You don’t believe I’ve changed.”
“I believe you’re frightened.”
Victoria looked through the community-center window.
Mateo was helping his sister with homework.
“What happens to the families using the center?” she asked.
“We’ll donate to relocation services.”
“How much?”
“A generous amount.”
“How much?”
“One hundred thousand.”
“That won’t cover one month of operations.”
“It isn’t our responsibility.”
Victoria heard her old beliefs in his voice.
Know your position.
She spoke calmly.
“No.”
Charles’s tone hardened.
“Think carefully.”
“I have.”
“You’re protecting people who cannot do anything for you.”
“That is the point.”
“You sound like Herrera.”
“No,” Victoria replied. “I sound like someone who finally understands what he was trying to say.”
She ended the call.
An hour later, several gossip websites published photographs of Victoria entering the community center.
The headlines mocked her.
DISGRACED SOCIALITE SEEKS REDEMPTION WITH PHOTO-OP VOLUNTEERING
Victoria stared at the article.
Alejandro entered the room.
“Whitmore?” he asked.
“Probably.”
“He is trying to discredit you.”
“It may work.”
“Does that change your decision?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“Good.”
“I’m frightened.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because courage is not the absence of fear. It is the decision that something else matters more.”
Victoria lowered the phone.
“What if we lose?”
Alejandro stepped beside her.
“Then we lose while standing where we chose to stand.”
The city hearing began three days later.
The chamber was packed.
Charles Whitmore sat at one table surrounded by lawyers.
Alejandro, Ricardo, Denise, and Victoria sat at the other.
Before the hearing opened, Charles leaned toward Victoria.
“You can still leave.”
Victoria looked at him.
“I already left.”
“Left what?”
“The world where men like you decide who matters.”
May you like
The council chairman struck his gavel.
The battle for Eastside began.
