He glanced at his grandfather and then at me. “You go ahead, Claire,” he said with a smile. “It’s your story to finish.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I’ll be back to pick you up in a half hour,” he said, his eyes filled with the love I’d missed so much. “Think that will be enough time?”
I nodded and gave Warren’s hand a squeeze as we stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk, inching toward the café cautiously, quietly. “Are you ready?” I asked.
He nodded, and we walked slowly up the steep block, pausing many times so Warren could catch his breath. A construction zone was no place for someone recently released from the hospital, and for a moment I felt guilty about taking him there. But then I remembered that it had been his idea, his wish.
“Claire!” I looked up to see Dominic rushing toward us. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been trying to call you back all afternoon, but your phone must be off.”
I reached into my bag and realized that I’d accidently turned the ringer off. “Listen,” I said, “I don’t blame you.”
He clutched a manila envelope. “I’m signing the papers this afternoon,” he said apologetically. “It will be a day or two before they start demolition.” He rubbed his brow. “Claire, I really hate that I have to do this, but it’s the only way I know how to provide for my mother.”
I held up my hand. “Please, don’t apologize. I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” I said. “I just wish there was another way. I’m sick about seeing this old place go.”
“My brother and sister offered to chip in,” he said. “We started a fund in her name to get community support. A bank back home has offered to match donations dollar for dollar. But we haven’t raised near enough.”
Warren stood next to me, half-listening to the exchange without taking his eyes off the door to the café. The trim, a burnt red, was in dire need of paint, particularly the upper right edge, which exposed the bare wood underneath the chipped topcoat. I wondered what color the doorframe had been in the 1930s.
Dominic gave me a knowing look and nodded toward the café, just as another truck pulled up to the street. “It’s OK,” he whispered. “I’ll ask them not to go in until you two are done. Take all the time you need.”
I looked at Dominic curiously. “How do you even know who…?”
He smiled. “Daniel, right?”
I nodded. “But how did you…?”
“I knew you’d find him,” he said, grinning.
We took a step closer, and Warren looked at me for reassurance. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he said, staring at the door, then turning to face me with misty eyes.
I worried about his heart, both the physical and the emotional toll. But he needed this. His life was like a tragic novel missing the final chapter, a beautiful one. We’d found it, dusted it off, and now it was time to read it. “Thank you, Claire,” he said.
Dominic held the door open and we walked inside. The old La Marzocco espresso machine had been moved from its spot on the bar. A dark shadow of coffee stains remained in its place. The tables and chairs had been pushed to the side wall, lined up and ready to be carted out. The beautiful fireplace looked lonely on the far wall. I took a deep breath. Those beautiful tiles by Ivanoff the mason. They’d be destroyed along with everything else.
“Warren?” I said.
He didn’t answer.
I reached for his hand. “Warren, are you all right?”
“I remember,” he said, his eyes big and his body still. “This hallway. There were men here. Drunken men. Mother used to hurry me inside and we’d run past them, up the stairs.”
He walked a few paces, slowly, toward the back of the café. “May I?” he asked, turning back to Dominic.
“Please,” Dominic said.
I followed Warren through the door that led to the back room and up the staircase. The stairs creaked underfoot, and I offered my arm to steady him, but he shook his head.
He stood on the little landing and ran his hand along the baluster. “All these years,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his coat, “I have dreamt about this place.” He paused to pull out a handkerchief and dab the corner of his eye. “And to be here…it’s just as I remember it.”
I reached for his hand. “Do you remember her? Vera?”