Mansoor sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the classified section of the Calgary Herald spread in front of him, searching the “Businesses for Sale” columns. With the recession, everyone was afraid to invest. They were at home nursing their wounds. Not him. He’d picked himself up. Reminded himself of what he needed to achieve. He would never give up. So he hatched a new plan. With the high number of bankruptcies and receiverships, many businesses would now sell well under market value. The law of supply and demand was in his favour and he would take advantage of it. In his negotiations with Ludlum, he had secured a line of credit. “For family expenses,” he told Ludlum. “Until I can get back on my feet.” But his plan was to tighten the household budget and use most of the money to start his new business. No bank would give him a loan so soon after his receivership. Now, he just needed to find something that required low capital investment. That was key.

“Anything good today?” Layla asked, setting a jar of jam and a stick of butter on the table before sitting down.

“Only a matter of time.” He circled a video rental store and starred it.

“You want more?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of tea.

He shook his head. He reached for the butter stick and examined the label. On the front: a Dutch girl with blonde pigtails and the words crème de la crème. “Switch to the generic brand,” he said.

“I tried it. It’s no good.” She reached for the butter knife.

“Try it again. We need to be more careful right now.”

She set the knife down. “Okay.”

On TV, the image behind the news anchorman was of the newly elected Prime Minister, Brian Mulroney. Mansoor had been torn on who to vote for in the election. In the end, he decided on Trudeau even as so many blamed him for the downfall of the economy. His loyalty couldn’t be so easily snuffed out. If the baby had been a boy, he would have named him Pierre.

“What about Patterson?” Layla asks.

“What about him?” he asks, his gaze fixed on his newspaper.

“He liked you so much. Why not ask him for a job?”

It was bad enough working for Patterson, but now Patel ran the dealership. He’d seen his name fitted over the old sign. “I’d rather die than work for anyone again. Especially those fools.”

“He would hire you straight away, I’m sure of it,” she said, biting into the toast. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

“Who said there was anything to worry about, Layla? I’ve got everything under control.” He tapped his pen on the newspaper, creating a constellation of red dots. Why was she doubting him when what he needed more than ever was her unflinching support?

“I was only saying. A job might be easier than the hassle-bassle of business. You won’t have to work so hard. And for so little.”