“They’re not changing anything are they?”
“Don’t know.”
“I can’t see what they’re doing in there with all that brown paper in the windows. Why are they hiding what they’re doing in there? Must be changing things. I’m not going in there if they change anything.”
“Guess they don’t want our advice.”
“Shoot, I been in there every day for the past 20 years. You’d think they’d want to know what I think. I’d tell ‘em if they asked. Yes, sir. I’d tell ‘em not to change a thing. This place is an institution. Can’t just go changing everything, you know.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, they could update the bathrooms. Those need some work.”
“That’s all?”
“And some light upstairs. Can’t see a thing up there. And the awning. It’s seen better days. And I’d keep a good baker in there. I like the cinnamon rolls. You don’t think they’ll get rid of the cinnamon rolls, do you?”
“Don’t know…”
“And they could do some repainting. And it’d be nice if they got rid of the yelling—that ‘Jack of Spades’ stuff. Hurts my ears. And menus would be good. They better keep spaghetti night. I’m not going in there if they get rid of spaghetti night.”
“I heard they’re not doing spaghetti.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. They’re gonna change everything and ruin the place. There ought to be a law or something.”
Don wandered off down the sidewalk, shaking his fist in the air and muttering to himself. Sylvie stopped to talk.
“What’s his problem?” she asked.
“Don’s worried they gonna change this place.”
“What’s going on in there?”
“Don’t know. Can’t see through the brown paper.”
“What’s it gonna be? Another coffee shop? Or a wine place?”
“Don’t know.”
“Lord knows we don’t need another coffee shop around here. How much coffee can one town drink? Silliness if you ask me. I drink my Folger’s every morning. Make a cup in the microwave. It’s good. And it doesn’t cost $20.00 a cup. Don’t know what folks are thinking, might as well drive down the street throwing their money out the window. And wine? Gracious sakes. I’m telling you, wine is taking this place over. I liked this town way better before wine.”
“I heard a lot of downtown was boarded up before wine got going.”
“Well, sure it was, but you never had any trouble parking. Can’t find a parking spot anywhere in this town now. Had to park three blocks up the street this morning. Walked all the way down here. Didn’t used to have to walk.”
“Guess we have to roll with the punches,” I said. “Things change. No way to stop it. I read that in a book.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Guess not.”
I walked back to my office. Going up the stairs, I dodged a bunch of paint buckets and ladders.
“What’s going on?” I asked the painter when I got to the top of the stairs.
“Repainting the walls.”
“That color? What’s wrong with the old color?”
“Don’t know. Guess the boss wanted to change it.”
“Change it? Why in the world would he change it? I liked it the way it was.”




