Jaime’s grandmother, who he called Mima because she had raised him as if she were his mother, wasn’t like some of the more traditional people in her large Cuban family, uncles and aunts and cousins who’d told Mima that managing a building was beneath her, and repair work was even worse. “Great-Aunt Sylvia said, ‘Manual labor should be left to men. Otherwise, why would they call it man-ual?’ Can you believe that?” Mima coughed in disgust. “Anyway, I have enough work to last me till next year. Jaime, why aren’t you eating? It’s going to get cold!”

Jaime tucked into the pork, which melted in this mouth. No matter what she made—traditional Cuban dishes or a just a plain old bugburger—it was always delicious. “I think your fingers have brains in them,” Jaime said, “because they make the most incredible things.”

“My brains are in my brains, silly boy,” said Mima, smiling. She spooned out some food for herself and sat next to him at the counter.

“You won’t believe who I just saw,” said Jaime.

“Cricket and Karl,” said Mima.

Jaime stopped shoveling his food for a moment. “How did you know?”

“The brains in my brains?” said Mima. “I helped the Morans get an apartment here.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did. A lot of people didn’t have a place to go after, well . . . after,” said Mima, taking a delicate bite.

“That’s nice of you,” said Jaime.

“You don’t mean that,” said Mima.

“Yes, I do!”

“You don’t like this place.”

Jaime put a bite of food in his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Do you like it?”

“Once we get it painted . . . ,” Mima began, but didn’t finish the thought. Their apartment, with its large windows and white walls and huge rooms and two sparkling bathrooms, was spacious and new and terrible, which was why Mima spent most of her time driving around town, doing repair work for everyone else in Hoboken. Sometimes, she called it Broboken, on account of all the bumbling old repairmen and the roving bands of cocky young men who pushed and shoved their way onto the trains and the ferry every morning. She couldn’t stand to be here, either.

But that didn’t mean either of them wanted to talk about it.