“This is an environmental issue,” said Ed, “due to the location here on the cove. There’s no way I can approve a commercial septic system that would pour grease and detergent, including nitrates, into the harbor water. And that’s before we even consider effluent from the restrooms.”
“It’s a perfectly legal system that’s up to code and it’s grandfathered,” said Jennifer. “It was upgraded less than two years ago.”
“What are you saying?” asked Rey, crossing the room which was filled with tables and captain’s chairs tumbled every which way. “That the septic system isn’t good?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Ed, glaring at Rey. “The only way my board will approve a license for this property is if you agree to use paper plates. All tableware will have to be disposable.”
“Like a fast-food place?” asked Rey, puzzled. “That’s not the sort of business I have in mind.”
“Too bad, amigo,” said Ed. “I’m not, I mean, the board is not going to let you run dishwashers that will fill our beautiful harbor with grease and suds. No way, José. Got it?”
“Is this true?” asked Rey, directing his question to Jennifer.
Jennifer looked at Ed, then sighed. “I will have to look into it,” she said, biting her lip. “I’m employed by the board of health and I answer to them.” She cast a meaningful glance toward Ed. “The board doesn’t have the last word, however. They are obligated to enforce the state sanitary code as well as local regulations.”
“How soon can I expect an answer?” asked Rey. “Time is money and I want to get this restaurant open as soon as possible.”
“I’ve been in business for over twenty years in this town. I’ve done lots of renovations and I’ve never run into anything like this,” said Bill.
“And I’ve covered lots of projects for the Pennysaver, lots of board meetings, and I’ve never seen such a prejudicial attitude,” said Lucy.
Just then the door flew open and a young man entered, greeting everyone with a cheery wave. “Hi, Pop. I’m here to take a look at the new place.”
“This is my son, Matt,” said Rey, introducing the newcomer. “He’ll be managing the restaurant.”
Matt was tall and good-looking, with longish black hair and very white teeth, and was swinging a pair of Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses in one hand. He was dressed in a leather jacket, designer jeans, and fancy driving shoes.
“What a great location, right?” said Matt, nodding his approval. “It’s going to be fabulous.”
“Well, we’re running into some problems,” said Rey. “This is Bill Stone. He came to discuss possible renovations. And this is his wife, Lucy. Ed Franklin and Jennifer Santos are from the town board of health, and they say we’ve got some environmental issues.”
“Really?” inquired Matt, raising a dark slash of eyebrow. “I went over all the specs with an environmental engineer. He even did an inspection before we made an offer. He said everything was correct.”
“Well, I’m the chairman of the board of health and I’d like to take a look at that so-called review,” said Ed Franklin. “You can’t just come into this town and start polluting the water with your greasy Mexican gunk. I know the sort of stuff you people eat—loads of lard and oil—”
“He says we will have to use paper plates like a fast-food place,” said Rey.
“That has not been decided,” cautioned Jennifer.
“What exactly is the process?” asked Matt, directing his question to Jennifer. “Do we have to get approval from him? Who is this guy? The king of sanitation?”
“Like I said, I’m the chairman of the board and they’ll darn well do what I tell them to do,” declared Ed. “And I can tell you that we don’t want people like you—”
“Now I understand,” said Matt. “It’s because we’re Latino, right?”
“Not now,” cautioned Rey, placing his hand on his son’s arm.
“Yeah, and three of your compadres were in the district court this morning. Drug pushers with guns. Not the sort of folks we want in Tinker’s Cove.”
“Not my compadres,” said Matt. “Do you know our family came here from Spain in the fifteen hundreds? We were here long before the United States was created.”
“Well bully for you,” said Ed, turning to Jennifer. “I think we’re done here.”
“Here’s my card.” She handed one to Rey. “You can contact me anytime with questions.” She seemed ready to add something, then glanced over her shoulder at Ed who was clearly impatient for her to leave, and decided against it. “It’s been nice meeting you,” she said, scurrying out after him.
“What do you think?” asked Rey, turning to Bill.
“Like I said, we take out these fake cottage windows and put in plate glass. Open up the kitchen, put in some new light fixtures, banquette seating. It’s going to be beautiful.”
“How long will it take?” asked Rey.
“Not long,” said Bill. “A couple weeks if you go with stock items, which I recommend. Custom could take forever.”
Rey was smiling and nodding along, sharing Bill’s vision.
But Matt wasn’t buying it. “And what about Ed Franklin?”
“In the end, the board has to follow the law, and the law’s on your side,” said Bill.
“Ed Franklin just lost his daughter. He’s grieving.” Lucy gave an apologetic smile. “People here aren’t like him,” she said, by way of farewell.
As she made her way to the Pennysaver office, she thought of the demonstration outside the courthouse and wondered if Ed Franklin was saying things out loud that many people had been thinking to themselves for some time. Maybe his hate speech would open the flood gates, unleashing a torrent of pent-up prejudice.
“What took so long?” Ted asked when Lucy arrived at the office carrying a bag from the Quik-Stop containing a pot of
