Dave walked closer, sliding his hands in his pockets. In the bright light, he looked clean, clear. Real. “You did all of these things,” he said after a moment. “All I did was document it.”
I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked down at the model again, looking at that girl and boy on the curb. Forever in that place, together.
“You should get back downstairs,” he said. “Your dad sent me up here for you. They’re about to do a toast or something.”
I nodded, then turned to follow him. “So I guess this is what you meant, huh?”
“About what?”
“Looking more closely,” I replied as he started down the stairs.
“Pretty much,” he said. “Hey, hit the lights on your way out, okay?”
I stopped, taking one last look at the model, stretched out and complete, before I reached for the switch, turning it off. At first, in the darkness, I could see only a bit of streetlight coming in the far window, illuminating the floor. Then, though, I spotted something else. Something small and glowing, in the exact spot I’d been studying before. I walked over, my eyes scanning Luna Blu, my house, and Dave’s. But it was the building behind them, that empty hotel, that had the tiniest light, provided by one word, written in fluorescent paint. Maybe it wasn’t what was once there, in real life. But in this one, it said it all: STAY.
I turned, looking at the stairway, the light at the bottom. I had no idea if Dave was already downstairs with everyone else, as I ran across the room, grabbing the banister to go after him. But after only one step, suddenly we were face-to-face. He’d been there all along.
“Is that really what it said, on the roof of the building?” I asked.
I could feel his breath, the warmth of his skin. We were that close. “No idea,” he replied. “But anything’s possible.”
I smiled. Downstairs, they were laughing, cheering, seeing out this last night in this sacred place. Soon, I knew we’d join them, and shut it down together. But for now, I leaned closer to Dave, putting my lips on his. He slid his arms up around me, and as he kissed me back, I felt something inside me open, like a new life beginning. I didn’t know yet what girl she’d be, or where this life would take her. But I’d keep my eyes open, and when the time came, I would know.
Eighteen
“Oh, crap,” Opal said, dropping a bunch of empty plates with a clang. “AHBL!”
“Already?” I asked. “We’ve only been open fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, but we only have one wait, and that wait is Tracey,” she said, stabbing two orders onto the spindle in the window between us. “We’re already in the weeds.”
She bustled off, cursing under her breath, while I pulled the tickets off, glanng at them. “Orders,” I told Jason, who was sitting on the prep table behind me, reading the Wall Street Journal.
“Call ’em,” he said, hopping down.
“You sure? We’re behind already.”
“If you’re going to be in the hole, you have to learn to call out orders,” he said, walking over to the grill station behind me. “Go ahead.”
I looked down at the top ticket. “Mediterranean chicken sandwich,” I said. “Order fries. Side salad.”
“Good,” he said. “Now hit that salad. I’ll do filet and drop those fries.”
I nodded, turning to the back table and grabbing a small plate from the shelf above. For all my time growing up in restaurants, working in one still felt brand-new. But there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
At graduation a week earlier, I’d sat with the rest of my class, fanning my face with a damp program as the speakers droned on and assembled family and friends shifted in their seats. When we all stood up, grabbing our caps to throw them in the air, a breeze suddenly blew over, lifting the air and all those black squares and tassels up overhead to take flight like birds. Then I’d turned, searching for the faces of my friends. I saw Heather first, and she smiled.
I was supposed to go back to Tyler, yes. But things change. And sometimes, people do as well, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. At least, that’s what I was hoping the Saturday after Luna Blu closed, when my mom showed up to help me pack my stuff. My dad was there, too, and Opal, all of us making trips from my room to Peter’s huge SUV, chatting as we did so. Opal and my mom hit it off immediately, which I had to admit surprised me. But as soon as she found out my mom had handled all the financial stuff at Mariposa, she started picking her brain about how best to do things at her new place. The next thing I knew, they were at the kitchen table, a notepad between them, while my dad and I finished the job.
“Does that make you nervous?” I asked him as we took out my pillow and my laptop, passing by them. My mom was saying something about payroll, while Opal jotted on the page, nodding.
“Nah,” he said. “Truth is, your mom kept that restaurant afloat for two years longer than it should have been. Without her, we would have closed a lot sooner.”
I looked at him over the hood of the SUV. “Really?”