THE STUDENT COUNCIL
Chapter 30

Amy heard the creaking stairs and closed her laptop. She welcomed her father with her best half smile.

“How’s my girl?” he asked.

“Still learning to walk, I guess. Sorry about that.” She patted the bed where her mother had slept. “Come lay beside me.”

Grant sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his work boots. When he sprawled out beside her, Amy slid close and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for coming to see me. I feel better already.”

“I talked to the dentist this morning. She says your teeth will be fine.”

Amy rolled her eyes. Why did her father have to sugarcoat things? She heard Dr. Garland tell her mother that two of the teeth were “iffy.” They may or may not survive. What difference did it make? For a few thousand, she could get implants. “I’m not worried.”

He gently patted her hair. “You shouldn’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything. Not ever.”

“Mom said everything’s cool with the high school contract. That’s good.”

“Did she tell you what Paul Barner’s father did?”

“You tell me.”

“He saved us. We were having trouble getting bonded and he heard about it. He called out of the blue and said not to worry. I’m meeting with his lawyer this afternoon.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. I never even liked the guy. Love Paul, of course.”

Amy rubbed her father’s chest. “You’re a great builder. The whole town knows that.”

He continued to pet her head as if it were a puppy. “What’s this I hear about you graduating early?”

Amy froze. Trisha gave up her secret? Who could she have told? The principal? The superintendent maybe? She was in daily meetings with both. Why would either of them even care? It had to be Rachel Adams. She was the one that her father talked to. “Where did you hear that?”

Grant knew he made a mistake. Trisha told him not to mention anything to Amy. It just slipped out. What could he say now?

Amy answered the question herself. “It was the superintendent, wasn’t it? I mentioned the idea to Miss Berman, my English teacher. She must have said something to Superintendent Adams. They’ve been working together on the new school.”

“Yes,” he said, finally releasing a breath. “It must have been Rachel. Why haven’t you discussed this with me or your mother?”

Amy could barely think. Trisha couldn’t be trusted? They were about to have their first argument! “I was just thinking about it, that’s all.”

“Well, we support whatever decision you make. It’s quite an accomplishment for you. I’ve never heard of anyone graduating a whole year early. Not in Oil City.”

His words bounced off her ears. She was still feeling the burn of Trisha’s betrayal.

“Who brought you flowers?” he asked. “Those weren’t here when I left this morning.”

“Google,” she mumbled. “He left a while ago.”

Her father grinned. “I think he has a crush on you. He couldn’t stop looking at you at the game last week.”

Amy winced. Did her father really say crush? Did he think she was a baby or something? “Don’t be silly. He’s my friend.”

“I’d say he sees you as more than that. You’re growing up, you know. Your mother and I started dating at your age.”

She rolled away from his side and sat up. “I’m gonna ask a favor.”

“The world is yours,” he smiled.

“I want you and mom to take a week off together. The timing’s right. Go on a romantic vacation, just the two of you. I’ll be fine here by myself.”

His smile disappeared. “We have too much to do. Besides, we’d never leave you alone.”

Amy shook her head. Mr. Workaholic! “You’re gonna be extra busy for the next two years! Now’s your chance.”

“Ames, you don’t understand. We’ve been on vacation for the last three years. Things have been slow.”

“Fine. I’ll revise the favor. Just make things right with mom again. I know the business dragged both of you down. Now the future’s bright. Be the way you were before.”

Grant looked at his puffy-faced girl, so determined and so naive. “That’s not an easy thing. We’re not the same people we used to be. Can you keep a secret?”

A hell of a lot better than Berman, Amy thought. She nodded.

Grant cleared his throat. “Your mother’s at a difficult time in her life. We have to be patient.”

Amy stared in disbelief. Had he really tossed the menopause card on the table? How lame was that? “She’s only forty-four! In her absolute prime!”

“Of course she is. You misunderstood. What I’m saying is that she’s re-evaluating her life, maybe deciding if I offer the future she wants.”

Amy sucked in a breath. Did her father already know about his wife’s affair? That would be a total game-changer. She decided to back off, at least a little. “Can I offer a suggestion?”

Grant wanted to be anywhere other than on his daughter’s bed, having this conversation. How did it even start? He rose from the bed and gathered his Wolverines from the floor. “Can I get you anything before I go back to work?”

Amy glared at her superhero, her knight in shining armor. Was he going to let a runt like Roger Cooper knock him off his white stallion? “Are you listening to me or not?”

His nod seemed reluctant. “Go ahead.”

“Your future with mom is in your hands. Show her the man you were before the business got in trouble. Everything will be fine again.”

His smile looked forced. “You don’t have to play marriage counselor. Everything will work out. You focus on getting better, okay? I love you. Your mother does too.” He headed for the door.

Amy said, “Google told me some good news about the Allegheny Mall lease.”

Her words spun his head. “What’s that?”

“You know how the lease guaranteed only twenty-eight thousand a month?”

“Yeah.”

“But another eleven thousand if the student council raised the money?”

Grant remembered and shook his head. “The twenty-eight was fine. It’s what I quoted. I’m sure the kids had good intentions.”

“Well, they’ve already made enough to cover the extra eleven for the first month. The future looks positive too.”

“You’re kidding,” he gasped. “How did they do that?”

“Fundraising. They take commitments seriously.”

Grant blinked at both her revelation and choice of words. Was she still giving marital advice? He remembered the FOR SALE sign. “Well, I have some good news for you too. I took down that sign in the front yard.”

Saved her the trouble, she thought. She had planned to remove it in the morning when she cut the grass. Trimming around and between the posts had been a pain in the ass.

A fourteen-by-sixty mobile home had served as headquarters for Westin Construction for the last eleven years. Located on a two-acre lot, it was surrounded by the company’s heavy equipment and stacks of surplus building materials. The accounting office occupied the former living room. Grant’s desk was in the back bedroom.

Mrs. Westin sat busy at her computer, finalizing the billing for the fire cleanup. The phone call came at noon. “Emily, I’m sorry to bother you at work. Can you come and meet me? We need to talk.”

The voice usually made her smile. Something was different. “Roger, can’t it wait until dinner? It’s not a good time.”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you. I have to tell you something before you hear it from someone else.”

Emily groaned. Did Roger have a wife he failed to mention? She was afraid to ask. “If it can’t wait, you can tell me on the phone. I’m alone in the office.”

The line was quiet too long. “Roger? Are you still there?”

“I’m not quite from Australia, love.”

“Not quite? What does that mean? You’re from somewhere near there?”

“Not near at all. I was born and raised in America.”

“Your family’s Australian?”

“No. My ancestors came from England.”

She assumed that explained his accent. “I don’t get it. Why would you say you’re from somewhere else?”

“Because I wish I was. My whole way of talking is made up.”

Emily squeezed her phone. “How’s it made up? Your parents are from England, right?”

“My parents are from Boston. So were my grandparents and the grandparents before them. All the way back to the seventeen hundreds.”

“Is your name Roger Cooper?”

“Yeah. That much is true. That and the fact that I love you more than anything.”

Emily sighed, not knowing what to think. “So stop all the fooling around. Just be yourself.”

“I will from now on. Promise. But I can’t bloody do it here in Oil City.”

“What? You’re leaving?”

“I have no choice. Others aren’t as understanding as you are. Word’s gotten out. Everyone will be making fun of me.”

“You can’t know that. Just tell everybody what you told me.”

“I’m not sleeping with everybody else, love. Others wouldn’t listen for a second. Believe me, I’ve taken this walk before.”

An alarm started wailing in her head. “Wait! This is a repeat performance?” Was she dealing with a serial fraud? A lunatic? Sane people learned from their mistakes, didn’t they?

“It’s happened a couple ...”

“Talk to a psychiatrist, Roger. Never call me again.” She couldn’t push the END button quickly enough.

Emily massaged her forehead. Had she been visiting the funny farm for the last month? How desperate could a woman be? She looked at the time on her computer screen. Grant and she were meeting with Ed Barner’s attorney at one. She had forty-five minutes to cry.

Her mourning ended in barely five. She could forgive herself for being a poor judge of men. Before Roger, Grant had been her one and only. The time had come to forgive him too. He hadn’t traveled to Erie in over a month. Whatever he had going on up there was apparently over. Both she and her husband had wandered off course, so the ledger was even. There could still be a happy ending.

Grant’s past business mistakes had resulted from overconfidence, not laziness or stupidity. In fairness to him, the company had been built on the strength of his high self esteem. She would continue to be a voice of reason, try to temper his optimism when necessary, but be supportive first and foremost. The company was on the rebound. There was no reason the marriage couldn’t bounce back too.

If Roger ever called again, she’d deliver a message before hanging up: Thanks for opening my bloody eyes!

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