Maintenance

Part One: Restoration

"Okay, Dad… you can open your eyes."

There was a pause, then a collection of gasps.

"No reaction– not even a grumble. It's worse than we thought!"

"Dad's really gone off the deep end. We're gonna have to trade him in."

"N-no–" Bob heaved a sigh. "The blindfold?"

"...Oh."

"So I can…? Never mind…" Without waiting, Bob lifted the strip of cloth from in front of his eyes. "Tina, is this your sock?"

"It's the only thing that would fit around your head," Tina replied in earnest, as she always did.

Rather than follow that line of questioning to a place he didn't like, Bob instead took a look at this rumored big surprise. His mouth fell open as he recognized the four walls– perhaps a bit too well.

"Sur-PRISE!" Linda sang as she popped up from behind the counter, arms splayed wide and a smile across her face.

"Oh. Wow…" Bob had to admit; he was stunned.

"What d'you think, Bobby?" Linda was beaming. "Looks just like home, doesn't it?"

"Well… yeah, it does, actually." He took a step further in, turning from one end of the restaurant to the other as the kids bustled past him. "Lin, how did you do all this?"

"Well, y'know; you've been spending so much time at the new house, the kids and I had plenty of time to put this together for you." Linda gave a delighted wriggle as she rounded the corner.

"Mom said she wanted this place to look just like home," Tina murmured. "We made sure to get all the details."

"It took forever to make this chair squeak like the old one!" Louise declared as she spun in the third bar stool.

Bob's brows furrowed slightly. "Louise, that chair was broken…"

She raised her chin with pride. "You're welcome."

"Oh my God…" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Now that the restaurant is gonna be open again, I can finally get to work on our commercials– complete with the catchy jingles that'll play on the radio." Gene was standing in one of the booths with his keyboard. "I've already got 17 of them ready. What do you think of this one–"

"Hey Dad, does that mean Jimmy Pesto's is gonna move in across the street again, too?" Tina asked.

"No. God, no." Bob glanced out the blue framed window– just to be sure.

"Oh. Okay. Then how is Jimmy Jr. going to be able to watch me through the window as I blossom into my new, hotter personality after moving to a new city?"

It was hard to think, between the squeaking bar stool, the ballad about pickles, and the new barrage of hypotheticals. But through it all, Bob found himself suddenly very, very tired. He ran a hand through his hair and tucked his hands into his pockets as he moved through the restaurant.

"Do you love it, Bobby?" Linda asked, hands clasped. "It's like we never even had to move!"

"Yeah, it's… great, Lin." Bob said quietly as he ran his hand along the counter.

Linda practically danced over to his side, then tugged on his arm. "Sooo…?"

He blinked at her, glanced around, then back to her. "I mean, it is great. Not sure where you got all this stuff to replace what we had to sell to move."

Linda shrugged. "I sold off that Spice Rack idea– made plenty of cash for it, too!"

"Wait, what?"