What Happens to Goodbye(102)

“FODF isn’t a real word?” Ellis asked. “Since when?”
“Time?” Deb asked, bustling past. “Anyone?”
“You have a watch on,” Heather told her.
“It’s nine thirty-two,” Riley said. “Which means—”
“Twenty-eight minutes!” Deb shrieked. “Twenty-eight minutes before we absolutely have to be out of here. Opal’s orders.”
“I thought Opal didn’t even work at Luna Blu anymore,” Riley said.

“She doesn’t,” Deb said. “But she owns the building. So she makes the rules.”
I picked up another bush, carefully adding it on. “She doesn’t own it yet,” I said. “And even when she does, it’ll just be a percentage. The Melmans and some other partners will own the rest.”
“The Melmans?” Riley asked.
“Previous owners,” I told her. “They started this place, way back when.”
I looked around the room, remembering when Opal had told me about the restaurant’s history, that day I’d first been up here. In the last two weeks, a lot had happened as far as Luna Blu was concerned. First, my dad had officially been reassigned to the next project, in Hawaii, while Opal had submitted her resignation, leaving her free and clear to work on purchasing the building once Chuckles put it on the market. Which he was doing at a very reasonable price, in exchange for two things: a hefty percentage, and a return of rolls to the menu. This agreement was hashed out over a very long meal at our house, punctuated by Hawaiian Kobe beef and two bottles of very good red wine. As for the Melmans, Opal’s old bosses, they’d come on shortly afterward, after she flew down to Florida with a business plan and an offer they didn’t want to refuse. Turned out retirement life was a bit dull for their taste: they missed the excitement of having a piece of a daily business. Between their money, a start-up loan from the bank, and Chuckles’s bargain price, Opal was getting her own restaurant. But first, Luna Blu had to close.
No one was happy about it. For the last week, as we’d been upstairs working away, the restaurant had been crazy busy, packed with locals who’d heard the news and wanted to have one last meal. I’d personally expected the entire place to implode with my dad and Opal gone, but surprisingly, under the dual leadership of Jason and Tracey, things had actually been running pretty smoothly. My dad had marveled more than once that he’d always pegged Tracey as the type to jump ship first. But as it turned out, she’d probably bailed herself into a manager poson at Opal’s new place, if she wanted it.
“Here it is!” Deb said, grabbing a pad of paper from the floor by the landing and holding it up. “Thank God. Okay, let me see what else we have to do.... Final landscaping is in progress, traffic signs are—oh, crap, where are the traffic signs?”
“I’m doing them right now,” Ellis told her. “Take a breath, would you?”
“Then that just leaves the final population details,” Deb said, not breathing at all. She looked around. “There was one final bag I saw here yesterday that hadn’t been put on yet. What happened to it?”
“I cannot deal with these trees and questions at the same time,” Heather said.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Ellis said. “Learn to multitask.”
“Where are those people?” Deb demanded. “I swear they were right—”
“Dave probably put them on,” Riley told her. “He was here last night again.”
Deb turned, looking at her. “He was?”
Riley nodded. “When I left at six, he was just getting here. Said he had a few last touches to add.”
“I texted him at seven and he was still here,” Ellis added.
I watched as Deb walked over to the model, scanning it slowly from side to side. “I don’t see any huge differences, though,” she said. “Not anything that would take a few hours, at any rate.”
“Maybe he just works very slowly,” Heather said.
“No, that’s you,” Ellis told her.
“Eighteen minutes!” Deb said, clapping her hands. “People, this is serious. If you have more than you can do in eighteen minutes, speak your piece now. Because this is crunch time. Anyone? Anyone?”
I shook my head: I only had a handful of bushes left to add on. Everyone got quiet, though, as we worked away, the minutes ticking by. Downstairs, we knew they were counting down, as well: as of ten o’clock, they’d be finished, too. It seemed like that was all these last weeks had been about, change and endings. The beginnings were yet to come.
Once again, my dad and I had been packing up the house and our things into boxes. This time, though, they’d be going to storage, not in the U-Haul. As for Hawaii, all my dad needed was a suitcase. The plan was for him to stay the summer, helping Chuckles’s restaurant get its footing, before returning in time to help my mom get me settled at whatever school I ended up deciding to attend. Then he’d come to Lakeview, where he’d fill in as chef at Opal’s place until he decided what he wanted to do next. Their relationship—which, apparently, had begun the night he’d told her about the restaurant closing, and ended up following her back to her house to talk about it—was new. They’d already had to deal with the awkwardness of my dad breaking up with Lindsay Baker (Opal had given up spinning, for now) and were about to face a separation. Neither one of them was na?ve enough to think they would absolutely make it. But just knowing he had someone to come back to besides me was a comfort to me. I, for one, was pulling for them.