What Happens to Goodbye(82)

Deb, across the model, beamed. I said, “We appointed a good leader. Makes all the difference.”
“Clearly,” she said as she started around the model, making approving noises. After a few steps, she reached back for my dad’s hand, taking hold of it. “Gus, had you seen this? I had no idea the detail was so specific!”

“It’s taken from the most recent satellite-scanning information,” Deb called out. “Model Community Ventures really prides itself on accuracy. And, of course, we’ve tried to follow their lead.”
The councilwoman nodded. “It shows.”
Deb flushed, beyond pleased, and I knew this was her moment, and I should be happy for her. But I was too distracted watching my father as he was led around the far corner of the model, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. Lunch dates and phone calls were one thing. But hand-holding, or any kind of PDA for that matter, was a big red flag.
“Whoa,” Dave said, his voice low. “Your dad and Lindsay Baker, huh? She is a serious Friend of Frazier. Pounds lattes like they’re juice.”
I shook my head, although I was in no position to confirm or deny anything. “I don’t think it’s serious.”
“Gus?” Opal yelled up the stairs. “Are you up there?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll be right—”
But he didn’t move fast enough. Before he could even begin to extract his hand—and something told me once Lindsay took hold, she had a good grip to her—Opal was already on the landing.
“The meat supplier’s on the phone,” she said, slightly breathless from running up the stairs. “He says you put a change in on our standing order, so it’s week to week now instead of set by the month? I told him that couldn’t be right, but he’s phon”
She stopped suddenly, and I followed her gaze to my father’s hand, still wrapped in the councilwoman’s. “I’ll talk to him,” my dad said, letting go and starting for the stairs. Opal just stood there staring straight ahead as he walked by her.
“Opal, I’m so impressed with what I see here!” Lindsay said to her. “You should be very proud of the progress these kids have made.”
Opal blinked, then looked at the model, and us. “Oh, I am,” she said. “It’s great.”
“I have to admit, I was a little nervous after my last visit !” The councilwoman scanned the model again. “Not that I didn’t have total faith in you, but at the time you seemed a bit disorganized. But Mclean says they’ve got a new team leader—”
“Deb,” I said. I nodded at her, and she beamed again. “It’s all Deb.”
I could feel Opal watching me, her gaze like heat, and I realized too late it was exactly the wrong time to draw attention to myself. “Well, Deb,” Lindsay said, turning her bright smile in that direction, “if that’s true, we’ll look forward to commending you properly at the unveiling ceremony.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful!” Deb said. She thought for a second, then said, “Actually, I have some ideas about the best way to display it. You know, to really get that optimum wow factor. If you’d like to hear them.”
“Of course.” Lindsay glanced at her watch. “Shoot, I’ve got to get back to my office. Why don’t you walk down with me while I go look for Gus?”
Deb’s face lit up, and she grabbed her clipboard, rushing over to join the councilwoman as she started down the stairs. We all watched them go, none of us talking. When the door at the bottom shut behind them, Opal turned to me.
“Mclean?” she said. “What’s . . . What’s going on here?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Opal swallowed, then looked around the room, as if only then realizing we had an audience. She shifted her attention to the model, scanning it from one side to the other, then back again. “I had no idea you guys had done this much,” she said. “Guess I need to pay more attention all around.”
“Opal,” I said. “Don’t—”
“I’ve got to go open,” she said. “You guys, um, keep up the good work. It all looks great.”
She turned, disappearing down the stairs. We were only down by about half, but suddenly the room felt downright empty.
“Is it just me,” Heather said in the quiet, “or was that weird?”
“Not just you,” Dave told her.
Riley, from across the room, said, “Is everything okay, Mclean?”
I didn’t know. All that was clear was that everything, including me, suddenly felt wholly temporary. I looked down at the model again. There, the entire world was simple in miniature, clean and orderly, if only because there were none of us, no people, there to complicate things.
That night, like most nights, we only worked on the model until 6:00 p.m. This was Opal’s rule, although I sensed my dad had a part in it. It made sense, though: it was one thing to have people moving around upstairs and coming and going for the first hour of service, but another to have to deal with it during the dinner rush.
Dave and I walked back to our houses together. His was lit up, as usual, and I could see his mom and dad in the kitchen, moving around. Mine was dark, except for the side porch light that we always forgot to turn off. I knew this was far from ecofriendly, and I needed to stick a Post-it or something on the door to remind me. Times like now, though, I was glad for the oversight.
“So. You got big dinner plans?” Dave asked me as we started up my driveway.