What Happened to Goodbye(88)
Author: Sarah Dessen

“Well,” my dad said.

“Hate is an awfully strong word,” Opal replied.

I looked at him, then at her, then at him again. “You can’t do this. It’s insane.”

“Well,” Opal said, clearing her throat. “That’s also a strong word.”

“You don’t want to do this,” I told her. “He’s leaving. You know that, right? For Hawaii.”

“Mclean,” my dad said.

“No,” I told him. “It was one thing when it was Lindsay, or Sherry in Petree, or Lisa in Montford Falls, or Emily in Westcott.” Opal raised her eyebrows, looking at my dad, who moved the pillow again. “But I like you, Opal. You’ve been nice to me. And you should know what’s going to happen. He’s just going to disappear, and you’ll be here, calling and wondering why he doesn’t call back, and—”

“Mclean,” my dad repeated. “Stop.”

“No,” I said. “You stop. Don’t do this.”

“I’m not,” he replied.

I just stood there, not sure what to say. I could see Opal out of the corner of my eye, watching me carefully, but I kept my eyes on my dad. At least, for a moment. Then, I shifted my gaze, suddenly noticing the kitchen behind him. There were grocery bags piled on the countertops, and a couple of cabinets were open, revealing cans and a few boxes of food inside. Some noodles and a couple of tomatoes sat piled by a cutting board, and there was a new glass pan, sitting rinsed on the dish rack, waiting to be used.

“What’s going on here?” I asked, turning my gaze back to him.

He smiled at me, then looked at Opal. “Come sit down,” he said. “We’ll fill you in.”

Seventeen

“Oh, no,” Deb said. “What happened to my STOW sheet? Has anyone seen it?”

“Nope,” Heather, who was bent over a corner of the model, sticking on bushes in a local arboretum, replied. “Maybe you lost it.”

“Heather, stop,” Riley told her. “Deb, it’s got to be around here someplac. Where was the last place you had it?”

“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be lost,” Deb said, walking to the table and pushing some papers around. “This is crazy! I can’t finish this tonight without the STOW!”

“Uh-oh,” Ellis, on the other side of the model, said. “Get ready for a FODF.”

I looked up from where I was adding some sidewalk tiles. “FODF? ”

“Full-On Deb Freak-out,” Heather explained.

“I heard that!” Deb called out. “And FYI, that is not even a good acronym. It’s supposed to be a real word, not a made-up one.”

“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.