What Happens to Goodbye(85)

My dad shot him a look, and then the door was shutting behind them. I watched them go down the walk, their contrasting heights the oddest of pairings. Just as they got into the back of the black Town Car idling at the curb, my phone rang.
I pulled it out, then flipped it open, my eyes still on the car. “Morning, Mom,” I said.
“Good morning!” she said. “Are you in a rush? Or can you talk for sec?”
“I can talk.”
“Great! Today’s going to be nuts, getting packed and driving down, so I wanted to just confirm our times and everything before the madness starts.” She laughed. “So are we still on for four, do you think?”
“It should be fine,” I told her. “I’ll be back here by three forty-five at the latest, and I’m already all packed.”
“Don’t forget your bathing suit,” she said. “Our maintenance guy called yesterday and it’s official. The pool and hot tub are both up and running.”
“Oh, God,” I said, glancing down the hall at my bag, sitting by the bed. “I totally forgot about that. I’m not even sure I have a suit anymore.”
“We can pick one up for you,” she replied. “Actually, there’s this really cute boutique on the boardwalk in Colby that my friend Heidi owns. We’ll stop in there if we get in before they close.” There was a loud wail in the background. “Oh, dear. Connor just dumped a bowl of Cheerios on Madison. I’d better go. I’ll see you at four?”
“Yeah,” I said. “See you then.”
Her phone went down with a clatter—she always had to get off the phone in a hurry, it seemed—and I hung up mine, sliding it back in my pocket. I turned around just in time to see my dad coming back in, Chuckles’s car pulling away in the window behind him.
“So,” I said as the door swung shut, “I hope this is a good time to let you know I’m going to be needing a new bathing suit.”
He stopped where he was, his face tightening. “Oh, for God’s sake. He told you? I asked him specifically not to. I swear he’s never been able to keep his mouth shut about anything.”
I just looked at him, confused. “Who are you talking about? ”
“Chuckles,” he said, annoyed. Then he looked at me. “The Hawaii job? He told you. Right?”
Slowly, I shook my head. “I was talking about the trip today. Mom has a pool.”
He exhaled, then ran a hand over his face. “Oh,” he said softly.
We just stood there for a moment, both of us still. Coffee, Kona, aloha, not to mention Luna Blu’s apparent reprieve and his date with the councilwoman: it suddenly all made sense. “We’re going to Hawaii?” I asked finally. “When?”
“Nothing’s official yet,” he replied, moving over to the couch and sitting down. “It’s a crazy offer anyway. This restaurant that’s not even open yet and already a total mess . . . I’d be insane to agree to it.”
“When?” I said again.
He swallowed, tilting his head back and studying the ceiling. “Five weeks. Give or take a few days.”
Immediately, I thought of my mother, how I’d averted the custody issue with my promises of this trip and weekends, not to mention how things had improved between us since. Hawaii might as well have been another world.
“You wouldn’t have to go,” my dad said now, looking at me.
“I’d stay here?”
His brow furrowed. “Well . . . no. I was thinking you could go back home to your mom’s. Finish the year and graduate there, with your friends.”
Home. As he said this word, nothing came to mind. Not an image, or a place. “So those are the options?” I said. “Mom’s or Hawaii?”
“Mclean.” He cleared his throat. “I told you, nothing is decided yet.”
It was so weird. Just then, suddenly and totally unexpectedly, I was certain I was going to cry. And not just cry, but cry those hot, mad tears that sting your throat and burn your eyes, the kind you only do in private when you know no one can see or hear you, not even the person that caused them. Especially them.
“So this is why you’ve been with the councilwoman,” I said slowly.
“We’ve just been on a couple of dates. That’s all.”
“Does she know about Hawaii?”
He blinked, then glanced at me. “Nothing to know. I told you, no plans have been made.”

“Except for the meat order going from monthly to weekly,” I said. He raised his eyebrows. “Doesn’t bode well for the restaurant. Means you’re either running out of money, or time. Or both.”
He sat back, shaking his head. “You don’t miss much, do you? ”
“Just repeating what you told me back in Petree,” I said. “Or Montford Falls.”
“Petree,” he replied. “In Montford, they had time and money. That’s why they made it.”
“And Luna Blu won’t,” I said slowly.
“Probably not.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then dropped it, looking at me. “I’m serious about what I said, though. You can’t just pick up and move halfway across the world so close to finishing school. Your mother wouldn’t stand for it.”
“It’s not her choice, though.”
“Why don’t you want to go home?” he asked.
“Because it’s not home anymore,” I said. “It hasn’t been for three years. And yeah, Mom and I are getting along better, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with her.”