Claire giggled and accepted another wedge of cake. A wave of quiet swept the table following her outburst. In the past, she was always the second one to break into laughter when the OMC went into rapid fire mode. Clem was first.
“I miss him.”
“We all do, Claire-bear.” Walter, George patted her hand. Bob swallowed hard. “He was...”
“Our best friend, too.”
“And like a brother.”
Her eyes watered. “I’m not going to cry. Don’t let me cry. We have more important work to do. We have to make this perfect. For Clem.”
“Hands.” George extended his hand to the center of the table. Bob and Walter followed suit leaving the top spot for Claire. As tempting as it was to slip her hand to the bottom of the stack so she could avoid speaking, the men looked at her with such clarity, she moved her hand to Clem’s traditional spot.
“For Grandpa Clem. We will honor him with the best display Belkin, Ohio has ever seen. One, two, three, choo-choo.” The air reverberated with the sound of whistle. She glanced around the table, honored that these men not only welcomed her, but believed in her. The big shoes scared her a little, but she’d do her best. “Let’s get back to business.”
Between bites of rum and sweet cream goodness, they hashed out a few other ideas. They all loved her idea to mechanize the Z scale engineer to include the hat-off gesture her grandfather so often performed for the kids. This was good since she’d nearly finished the intricate wiring process that coordinated the man’s movements with the train.
The cemetery had been contentious. Bob hated the idea. He ran his hands through his comb-over. She found it hard to take his objections seriously when he had a six-inch-long greasy, crumby triangle of hair sticking slightly sideways. Fortunately, Walter sided with her. Since he was the liaison with the sponsor, his approval mattered the most. They all had their job. She did the art. Walter did the business. George coordinated the local government and Bob ate cake.
“So, when are we going to meet? I think we should do Friday before the high school football games or Saturday night because that’s the worst TV night.”
“Some of us still work, Bob. And now that I’m short-staffed, I’ll probably have to work late.”
“I have to go the football games, it’s a mayoral duty to cheer.”
“I’ll give you guys Saturday mornings before I open the shop. The rest of the time I need to be working or sleeping.”
“Okay.” With consensus made, George and Bob got their coats, made their goodbyes, and left.
The Old Men’s Club didn’t need to know why she wanted some evening flexibility, at least for the next month. Once they set up the display in mid-November, she’d be busy day and night, but until then, she wanted a chance to see what happened with James. Perhaps she could convince him to help too. They could use some young muscle and youthful energy. He sure seemed strong the other night. Monday was far away.
Walter stayed back, moving slower than necessary to brush the crumbs off the cake plate. “You look wistful.”
“Do I?” She’d always been closer to Walter than Bob or George, but once she made the mistake of saying she had a boyfriend when the relationship was really new. Walter hadn’t let up about wanting to meet the man. She had nothing to tell at this point. James was no more than a dreamy sensation and hope.
He made a noncommittal hrumph as he helped her turn off the power strips. “I didn’t want to say anything while the others were here, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this year.”
“How so?”
“The kid visited my department last week for an ‘evaluation.’ He handed out a few pink slips, which I expected, but there’s something else. I didn’t like the way he looked around my office. He kept making faces like the trains smelled bad.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “Not everyone shares our passion. I’ve scared off more than a few boyfriends with my little hobby.”
Smiling reassuringly, he covered her hand with his. “Don’t diminish your talent as a ‘little hobby.’ You have a rare gift, and someday you’ll find someone who appreciates it and you—”
“Sure. When I’m as gray as you—”
“Respect your elders, young lady, and bask in our wisdom.”
His eyes twinkled as he wagged his finger, repeating the phrase her grandfather so often used. The familiarity warmed her. She could have a larger dating pool in the city and make more money if she took a full-time position, but she couldn’t leave Belkin completely.
“As I was saying, during the review, the kid in charge kept asking about the train budget, wanting to know how much money we lost each day versus made. I didn’t have an answer immediately. He fired three people in my department yesterday, and he’s going over all the operating expenses for the last five years.”
“But we have a contract! And the kids! They count on us.”
“He doesn’t give a rat’s behind about that. He only cares about making money. I’ll do my best. I listened to Clem rail against the system before. Hopefully I can be as persuasive as him.”
I will not cry; I will not cry. In spite of her admonishments, her chest heaved in preparations to bawl. She swallowed hard. Then she did it again. Hic. “Great. Hic. Now I’ve got the hiccups.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
“Thank hic you.”
She craved a bit of retail therapy, or to see a comedy. Anything to push away the negative thoughts crowding her brain. She sure as hell wouldn’t be able to work on constructing any of the components tonight. Not with her mind this cluttered. Too bad James went away for the weekend. He had amusing diversion written all over him. The way this year had gone, she needed a little fun and a break from her own company.
Jo had family visiting and she’d already seen the only new releases
