Book One, Page Eight. The Rolling Tiles.
Jerry took the lead in his tour of the old drugstore, and Karen Gottlieb followed. He walked the length of the business side of the soda fountain. The old grill was still there, but the deep-fry unit was gone. He opened the stainless steel door of the refrigerator, and was instantly sorry that he did. The first whiff reminded him of the big refrigerator back at his veterinary office.
They stepped quickly away from the offending appliance and toward the storeroom. Jerry remembered, from having gone to the bathroom a few times in the old days, what was back there, more or less. But like most parts of the store, it didn't match his recollections. The back room was smaller than he remembered it, but still plenty big enough to put a kitchen in.
The small black-and-white floor tiles, arranged in a pattern that someone must have had to figure out a long time ago, continued all the way to the back of the building. Floors like that last forever, even when the concrete beneath them tilts and cracks, as this floor did. But there was a certain antique charm in that. People would connect that look with the floors at Arnaud's and Tujague's and the Crescent City Steak House, and get the same warm feeling Jerry now felt.
A phone rang. Really rang--an old phone with a real bell. Jerry looked around to see where that antique might be, but saw Karen reach for her cellphone. "Is that your--"
"Hello?" Karen said, holding her hand up. She listened for a moment, and then began to drift to the front of the store.
Jerry stood in the back room, alone. The more he took in as he scanned the scene, the more he felt a glow of rightness in this place. He'd leave the soda fountain in--make it the oyster bar. Over where the pharmacy was he'd have a small private dining room. The old checkout counter would become the hostess stand. He remembered how it was completely cluttered with magazines, gum, candy, so that you could hardly see the face of the clerk. Why not do that again? He thought. Like in the Sixties? Everything he looked at triggered an idea, and each idea added to his excitement.
He extracted his own cellphone and called Julie. "So, what's it look like?" she answered, knowing exactly who it was and what he was calling about. "Is it the place in your dream?"
"As in totally!" he said, knowing he sounded too enthusiastic even as the words came out. "You've got to get over here and let me show you what I'm thinking! Do you have time to come over?"
Karen Gottlieb returned. Jerry ended his call with a talk-to-you-later, not waiting to her Julie's excuse for not coming over. He turned the beam from his happy face onto Karen. But her turned it off when she looked grave.
"That was my office," Karen said. "They say they have somebody who wants to buy this building and tear it down for a new bank."
