“Well, I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” she replied. “But she’s really been great. Usually, they just put those numbers on there but nobody answers. I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent on hold, waiting for someone to tell me how to glue an eave properly.”
I just looked at her. From across the room, Dave snorted.
“Hey, is Gus up there?” someone called up the stairs.
I walked over to see Tracey on the landing below. “Nope. He’s in a meeting in the event room with Opal.”
“Still? God, what are they doing in there?”
I had a flash of the pad with all those numbers, how her name had been awfully close to the top. “I don’t know,” I said.
“Well, when he finally emerges,” she said, pulling a pen out from her hair and sticking it back in with her free hand, “tell him that councilwoman called again. I don’t know how much longer I can put her off. Clearly, she’s undersexed and highly motivated.”
“What?”
“She’s hot for your dad,” she said, speaking slowly for my benefit. “And he is not getting the message. Literally. So tell him, would you?”
I nodded and she turned, walking back to the dining room, the downstairs door banging shut behind her. It wasn’t like I should have been surprised. This was the pattern. We landed somewhere, got settled, and eventually he’d start dating someone. But usually, it was not until he knew he had an end date that he’d take that plunge. Sort of like someone else I knew.
“Mclean?” I heard Deb call out from behind me. “Can I have a quick discussion with you about your approach in this area here by the planetarium?”
I turned around. Dave, who was carrying a structure past, said cheerfully, “And you said your sectors were perfect.”
I smiled at this, but as I walked over to take her critique, I was distracted. I didn’t even know why. It was just a phone call, some messages. Nothing that hadn’t happened before. And it wasn’t like he’d called her back. Yet.
At five o’clock, with three sectors done that had passed Deb’s rigorous inspection, we decided to knock off for the night. When we came downstairs, the restaurant had just opened. It was warm and lit up, and my dad and Opal were sitting at the bar, a bottle of red wine open between them. Opal’s face was flushed, and she was smiling, happier than I’d ever seen her.
“Mclean!” she said when she spotted me. “I didn’t even know you were here!”
“We were working on the model,” I told her.
“Really?” She shook her head. “And on your snow day, to boot. That’s some serious dedication.”
“We got three sectors done,” Dave told her.
She look confused. “Three what?”
“Sectors.” Nope, still lost. I didn’t even know how to explain, so I just said, “It looks really good. Serious progress.”
“That’s great.” She smiled again. “You guys are the best.”
“It’s mostly Deb,” I said. Beside me, Deb blushed, clearly pleased. “Turns out she has a lot of model experience.”
“Thank God somebody does,” Opal replied. “Maybe now Lindsay will relax about this whole thing. Do you know she keeps calling here? It’s like she’s suddenly obsessed with this project.”
I glanced at my Dad, who picked up his wineglass, taking a sip as he looked out the window. “Well,” I said, “she should be happy next time she stops by.”
“That,” Opal said, pointing at me, “is what I love to hear. She’s happy. I’m happy. Everybody’s happy.”
“Oh my goodness,” Deb said, her eyes widening as Tracey came toward us with a heaping plate of fried pickles, placing it right in front of Opal. “Are those—”
“Fried pickles,” Opal told her. “The best in town. Try one.”
“Really?”
“Of course! You too, Dave. It’s the least we can do for all your hard work.” She pushed the plate down, and they both went over to help themselves.
“Wow,” Dave said. “These are amazing.”
“Aren’t they?” Opal replied. “They’re our signature appetizer.”
Wow, indeed, I thought, looking at her as she helped herself to a pickle, popping it into her mouth. My dad was still looking out the window. “So the meeting went well?” I asked.
“Better than well,” Opal said. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Nobody’s getting fired. I mean, we presented our arguments, and he just . . . he got it. He understood. It was amazing.”
“That’s great.”
“Oh, I feel so relieved!” She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s like the best I could hope for. I might actually sleep tonight. And it’s all because of your dad.”
She turned, squeezing his arm, and he finally turned his attention to us. “I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“Oh, he’s just being modest,” Opal told me. “He totally went to bat for our staff. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he actually didn’t want anyone to get fired either.”
I looked at my dad. This time, he gave me a shrug. “It’s over,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”
“Is that Mclean I see?” I heard a voice boom from the back of the restaurant. I turned, and there was Chuckles, huge and hulking and striding right toward us. As usual, he had on an expensive suit, shiny shoes, and his two NBA championship rings, one on each hand. Chuckles was not a believer in casual wear.