Dreamland Social Club(50)

“Good! I think!” her father said, and Jane deduced that he was drunk. He sang the rest of the song with the lady on the weird funnel record—“Well, he don’t know Nellie like I do,/Said the saucy little bird on Nellie’s hat”—and then he plopped down on an old couch, out of breath.

“There was a picket line.” He waved a hand. “I hadn’t been expecting that. Some woman stopped me and went on and on and on about Loki and said that I was making a deal with the devil.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Dad.”

But he wasn’t listening. “You’d think I was single-handedly responsible for Loki owning the property the Anchor and Wonderland are on, like it’s my fault they might lose their leases. I told her that’s life. If you can’t afford to stay somewhere, then you can’t afford to stay. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s the way of the world.”

Jane felt the thrum of dread. “What did she look like?”

“I don’t know. Crazy. That’s what she looked. Pretty. Like super-sophisticated. But crazy.”

Yes, probably Beth.

“But it’s true that Loki is raising everyone’s rents like crazy,” Jane said. “Shutting people down. You don’t care?”

Her father took his glasses off and said, “A horror made of cardboard, plastic, and appalling colors; a construction of hardened chewing gum and idiotic folklore taken straight out of comic books written for obese Americans.”

“Dad,” Jane whined. “What are you talking about?”

“You were too little to remember. No, wait.” He paused to think. “You weren’t even born yet. But when I worked on Euro Disney, the French people hated what was happening. They called the park ‘a horror made of cardboard.’ And worse. And there were protests from labor unions and problems with the housing requirements needed to support the massive staff the park needed to function.”

“What’s your point?” Jane asked, though she already sort of knew.

“You can’t please all of the people all of the time,” he said, and he started gathering up his documents. “Now I need to go run through my presentation a few times, honey. I’m sorry you’re upset about this, but it’s really nothing new.”

“It’s new to me,” she said weakly.

“I know.” He nodded. “And it’s complicated stuff. Especially if you know the people involved. But there’s really no right thing in a situation like this.”

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t a wrong thing,” she said. Then, “What do you think Mom would make of all this? The Tsunami? The redevelopment?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes. “I only know that she loved this place and hated it, and she was justified in both of those things. Maybe the development will get rid of some of the hate for the rest of us who are still here.”

“I don’t hate it the way it is.” It felt like a lie. But a white one.

“But you don’t love it either. You love its past and you love its potential, but only if it turns out to be what you want it to be.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except that it’s not really love. Love has to exist in the present tense, flaws and all. And anyway, it’s not the way the world really works.”

Jane didn’t have the energy to argue, wasn’t sure he was wrong. “I’m going to see a man about a horse,” she said. “After dinner.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His eyebrows went up. “I could come with you.”

“I’ll be okay. I just want to decide if we should give it to them or to someone else.”

He said, “I can’t imagine anyone else would want the thing.”

“They’re called museums, Dad.”

“You think it’s worth something?” He seemed genuinely intrigued.

“One of my teachers says it might be worth up to sixty thousand dollars. But that it’s priceless.”

“Nothing is priceless.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“No, I don’t suppose I do.” He started to fiddle with another record. “You, my dear, are priceless.”

Jane rolled her eyes and looked at her watch. “I’ve got a friend coming over.” She got up. “Try not to appear shocked when you discover that she is a goth dwarf.”

“Look around,” her father said. “She’ll fit right in.”





Babette wound up the mermaid doll. “So do you think he’s cute, at least?”

“It’s broken,” Jane said, and thought again about telling Babette all about the keys the doll had hidden but wasn’t sure she wanted anyone but Leo to know about them. Not yet. She said, “Do I think who is cute?”

They’d already discussed and done the homework assignment Jane had missed. Her postcard for Mr. Simmons would have to wait a little longer.

Babette put the mermaid down on the bed. “The guy you’re going on a date with.”

Jane really did think Legs was cute—for a giant—which she knew was wrong. So she said, “It’s not a date.”