“Please, sir,” Consuelo said with quiet dignity, “Don’t fire me. I just have no one, and I need the food… The money is not enough.”
“I know,” George said gently. “Which is why you will be getting a salary increase and a work contract.”
Consuelo stared at him and her mouth hung open.
“An increase?”
“Also,” George added, “my grandfather bought this whole building, and at the back, there is a small apartment that we’ve been using as dry-goods storage. I’ve ordered it cleared out and cleaned.
“It’s small but better than an abandoned factory, and it has electricity and hot and cold running water. You and your children will be moving in today.
And no more scraps, you get proper food!”
Consuelo was crying. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Helping us?”
“Because,” George said gently, “many years ago, my grandfather came to this city, this country, with nothing but his dreams, and someone helped him.
I’m doing the same for you.”
“Maybe one day, you or one of your grandchildren will lend someone else a helping hand. That, Ms. Ruiz,” George smiled, “is the true American Dream.”
