Ashif suddenly feels guilty for being harsh with his mother. The same feeling of sinking into quicksand. “Everything will be okay, Mummy,” he says. He reminds himself she has no one else she can count on. Just him. “I’ll be there soon.”

When he hangs up, he tells Mel that he needs to leave after their morning meetings to take care of a family matter. He then asks her to handle the first few meetings in Vancouver without him. She agrees and he rebooks himself on the next flight out.

Chapter 16

MANSOOR TUCKS A STACK of bills and rolled coins into a bank bag. It’s only seven-thirty in the evening. A little early to be cashing out, but he’s eager to get home tonight and tell Layla his news even if he’s not sure she’ll fully understand its importance. That doesn’t matter to him. He has a great need to say it out loud. Tell someone. He reaches into his shirt pocket and removes the faxed letter that arrived an hour ago. He slips on his bifocals and reads it yet again. “Yes-yes-yes!” Abrahams & Abrahams approved his mortgage. Just like that. The interest rate is higher, but what does it matter? He can finally buy his plant, show the City his power.

He retrieves his cellphone from his pants pocket and tries Ashif again. That’s who he really wants to tell. Now his son will believe him. Not doubt him as he did this morning at breakfast. “I’m on my way up, son!” What a difference a day makes. The phone makes a sing-song of sounds and soon, he gets the same voice recording. “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.” Mansoor shakes his head. Why didn’t Ashif give him his new number? He’ll call his son when he gets home. Layla will have the right number, no doubt.

He collects his winter coat and briefcase from the backroom. At the front of the store, he catches a glimpse of himself in the glass door. He throws a punch at the faint image. “Look at you now, Visram!” Another punch. “You were right all along, weren’t you?” He flips the OPEN sign over to CLOSED, turns off the lights, and steps out of his store.

Mansoor and his boss stood at the back of a massive showroom. Outside, a neon sign blinked on and off. PATTERSON USED CARS & TRUCKS. Behind them, plaques with a photograph of a salesman and a bronze plate engraved with a name and month. The Salesman of the Month Award. The Wall of Fame. Mansoor’s face appeared, again and again, under years 1973 to 1979.

“Come on now, Manny, if you want to see these,” his boss said, tilting his head toward the wall, “then don’t quit on me.” He was a large man with a boyish face.

“I’ll bring the plaques back, Fred.” Mansoor slapped Patterson on his shoulder. “Since when have I let you down?”