The old-world grandfather had leased the store in Brooklyn under his apartment to a single mother seamstress from Chile - for peanuts. At his repast after his funeral the teenage son of the seamstress and his son's own teenage son become instant friends. Meanwhile, his daughter will start the process for jacking up the rent beyond what the current tenant could ever pay. Like much of Brooklyn, that neighborhood is gentrifying.
The conflict over the rent could have turned out to have been the usual New York story, involving lawyers and a likable victim. But it is played out through the minds and hearts of the two boys. Also, the tenant Leonor is hardly sympathetic.
She talks sentiment, not business. That's even though she is a businesswoman. Also she is cruel to the son of the kind man who was so generous to him for so many years. That son is a failed actor, supported by his successful wife who is a psychotherapist. However, he and his wife authentically love each other and he is a good parent. There doesn't seem to be undue tension in the household about her being the breadwinner.
Well, Leonor gets evicted. The boys drift apart. But both seem to have gotten through that crisis, as do most of us. And that is the sweetness and light of the narrative: We all remember a similar development among adults which, at the time, unhinged our little adolescent worlds.