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Carousel Nights
Amie Denman
Every first love deserves a second chanceJune Hamilton left home to pursue her dream of dancing on Broadway. Seven years later, she has one regret: Mel Preston, her teenage crush and onetime summer love. Now a single dad and the head of maintenance at Starlight Point, her family’s amusement park, Mel’s easy smile still makes her heart beat in triple time. But June came home with a plan. She would spend the summer revitalising the park’s ageing theatres then make a graceful exit back to the big city. Until Mel and his young son start making a powerful claim on her emotions, and June faces an impossible decision…


Every first love deserves a second chance
June Hamilton left home to pursue her dream of dancing on Broadway. Seven years later, she has one regret: Mel Preston, her teenage crush and onetime summer love. Now a single dad and the head of maintenance at Starlight Point, her family’s amusement park, Mel’s easy smile still makes her heart beat in triple time. But June came home with a plan. She would spend the summer revitalizing the park’s aging theaters, then make a graceful exit back to the big city. Until Mel and his young son start making a powerful claim on her emotions, and June faces an impossible decision...
“Can you help me?”
Mel didn’t answer. He concentrated on the scuffed toe of his work boot. “Can this wait until next month or next year?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I won’t be here next year.”
He shook his head. “None of my business if you want to keep running away from home.”
Her cheeks colored and he knew he’d struck a nerve. He’d had no intention of firing any weapons, but it had been a very long day.
June cocked her head and studied him. “You don’t ever wonder if there’s something else out there for you—something outside of Starlight Point?”
He shook his head again.
“You want to stay on this merry-go-round your whole life? Working all year getting ready for a summer of twelve-hour days?”
Mel glanced at the dusty wall clock. “Fifteen hours.”
June sighed, uncrossing her arms. “Some things in life you only get one solid chance at,” she said. “Apparently you don’t get that. Nobody seems to.”
She flung the shop door open and disappeared into the night.
Dear Reader (#ulink_d4b16d2f-45c0-5559-ad99-4bd7ea5155a4),
Thank you for visiting Starlight Point as you read Carousel Nights. Can you imagine inheriting a summer resort and amusement park? It sounds like great fun and hard work to me. I love an old-fashioned theme park with a carousel, cotton candy, roller coasters and the sound of the waves on the shore.
This is the second book in the Starlight Point Stories miniseries. The first book, Under the Boardwalk, followed Jack Hamilton, the oldest of the Hamilton children, in the first summer they inherit Starlight Point. In Carousel Nights, middle child June Hamilton struggles with a tough choice: continue the Broadway career she always wanted, or come home and devote herself to Starlight Point? A summer romance she left behind years ago sweetens and complicates her decision. The third book in the series will be available in December 2016 and follows Evie, the youngest member of the family, as she finds her place at Starlight Point.
This is my eighth published novel, and they all take place in the summer and by the water. I love sunshine and waves because they are fleeting, like the first rush of falling in love. For me, writing about July days and the sparkle of the blue water makes them last all winter long. I hope reading Carousel Nights puts summer and love in your heart.
Thank you for reading my book. I hope you’ll visit me at amiedenman.com (http://www.amiedenman.com), follow me on Twitter, @amiedenman (https://twitter.com/amiedenman), or send me an email at author@amiedenman.com.
Happy summer, wherever you are!
Amie Denman
Carousel Nights
Amie Denman


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
AMIE DENMAN is the author of eight contemporary romances full of humor and heart. Born with an overdeveloped sense of curiosity, she’s been known to chase fire trucks on her bicycle and eavesdrop on lovers’ conversations. Amie lives in Ohio with her husband, two sons, a big yellow Labrador and two cats. She believes everything is fun: especially wedding cake, show tunes, roller coasters and falling in love.
Carousel Nights is dedicated to my parents, who encouraged their four daughters to be anything they wanted to be. Thank you for your unwavering love and for taking us on all those vacations that sparked our curiosity and imagination.
Contents
Cover (#ue95e16f3-3adf-5bd9-a276-3727f7d5fb3e)
Back Cover Text (#u3a69437f-98e6-5673-8a8f-f988d9aa9031)
Introduction (#u7546e37b-0979-59e5-88b9-0fdda397d923)
Dear Reader (#u941eb6ac-f2f1-5d0f-ac99-edaccce353e2)
Title Page (#u204c73f3-eedb-5eb9-9ef6-da5af7d1de2c)
About the Author (#uce1597f4-e00b-5159-9b92-789ed88b0543)
Dedication (#ua4b3e19a-2ec1-5869-977e-09d2062cc65e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u1f2b3219-3771-5f72-a950-5aed21cc66a4)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua1cfc208-fee8-5229-89cf-1cf0ce520764)
CHAPTER THREE (#u941754fe-f674-5dc9-b36c-51a34bc69aa2)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u2cf2070f-b29f-5389-970f-c6af72776d11)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ub0d0710f-7872-58ab-b34d-d407e7970d3d)
CHAPTER SIX (#u76e5941f-e8ef-5887-bc71-1b2b130ea36f)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_07d045f5-a31e-5ff1-9750-ebdb75656189)
I SURE AM far from Broadway. Right back where I started.
For June Hamilton, standing on the stage of the Midway Theater was pure nostalgia. She had danced her first semiprofessional steps here during the summers. But she had no intention of dancing her last ones on stage at her family’s amusement park. Her legs were still good for six or seven seasons of New York City, and she still had a dream to chase.
“Thank you for spending your summer at Starlight Point,” she said. The performers gathered around her shifted even closer. “You’ll dance your legs off doing five shows a day, but the experience you’ll gain can take you anywhere.”
“You’ve been on Broadway for ages, right?” a girl with a tiny waist and a movie-star face asked.
“Hey,” June said, narrowing her eyes but smiling at the girl. “Only a few years, and I’m going back for the fall season. After I transform this theater and the Starlight Saloon into standing-room-only attractions.”
She had one month until the two theaters at Starlight Point opened for the summer.
Today she and her stage manager, Megan, would begin a marathon of rehearsals and performances. The new crop of college-aged performers gathered on stage at the Midway Theater, leggings and loose sweatshirts ready to come off so they could dance.
June handed a shop broom to one of the guys. “Do you mind knocking off some of the construction dust?”
The young man smiled, perfect white teeth giving him a showbiz gleam. “Didn’t know I’d be dancing in a work zone,” he said, taking the broom and heading downstage.
“Life of the theater,” June said. “You never know what you’re getting into.”
“It’s all good. I’m happy to have a summer job.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Megan said, coming through a back door onto the rear of the stage. “I was battling my computer files and uploading practice music to my phone.” She headed for a small set of speakers propped on a cardboard box. “I love the show you’ve put together,” she continued, fumbling with a cord and searching the back of the speaker for a place to plug it in.
“Everyone loves Broadway, especially people who are willing to take a break from spinny rides and cotton candy,” June said, smiling at the six-months-pregnant stage manager, who still managed to look like a dancer despite her protruding belly. “At least I hope so.”
“You brought the glamour home,” Megan agreed. “I have no idea what we’ll do next year when you’re back to your day job.”
June walked to the front of the stage. The seats were all empty, but she felt the magic anyway. She always had. She faced the rows of seats and the midway wall of the theater where the marquee hung over glass doors.
June breathed deeply, raising her arms and stretching. She imagined the excitement, music, costumes and applause. More than anything, her feet wanted to spell out a routine on the floor that would have the audience wishing for three sets of eyes to take it all in.
But she had a lot of work to do before one patron filled a seat. When June had agreed to come home for the summer and take a hiatus from dancing on Broadway, she’d exacted an agreement from her brother, Jack, and sister, Evie. They had to let her update the old theaters. It was their second year running Starlight Point after the unexpected death of their father. They’d had bumps in the road, major and expensive ones, but ramping up the live shows would be a return on investment.
As she stood on the stage, breathing in theater air and listening to the clicking of tap shoes behind her, June wished she could fast-forward to opening day with a hundred people soaking up the great Broadway revue show she’d sketched out.
“You’re smiling,” Mel said.
She hadn’t heard him come in. How long has he been there? He stood near an exit door at the side of the house five rows back. Mel Preston. Tall. Blue work shirt with Starlight Point over one pocket and his name over the other.
She already knew his name. And plenty of other things about him.
June had left Starlight Point seven years ago, when she was eighteen, to attend college in Manhattan and begin her Broadway career. She didn’t regret striking out on her own and leaving the family business to the rest of the family. But she did have one tiny regret.
Okay, one six-foot-three regret.
“Of course I’m smiling,” June said. “Theater is my life.” She spun on her good leg and tapped out a short rhythm with her foot.
“Even this dinky theater?” he asked, walking down the middle aisle.
Her heart rate sped up with each step he took.
“Careful,” she said. “I know the owners of this place and I could have you fired.”
Mel sat in one of the hundreds of empty seats. He leaned back, a travel mug of coffee in his hand. He’s staying? June needed to concentrate on her rehearsal, and Mel divided her attention with his mere presence.
“How have you been, June?” He sat as if he were a ticket-holding patron waiting for his entertainment. Asked the question as if they were high school classmates bumping into each other at the bank or the grocery store.
June had been home just over a week and she’d somehow avoided a reunion with Mel. But Starlight Point only covered a few square miles. If she was planning to be home all summer, she had to find a way to tune out the way Mel made her feel, even after seven years. Maybe I’ll turn the music up very loud.
“I’ve been fine,” she said with a business-casual tone she hoped would convince at least one of them. “Busy. I’ll tell you all about it when I get my shows open.”
“I heard you’re staying all summer.”
June nodded, unsure if Mel considered it a good thing or a bad thing she was staying all summer. Her two goals of recharging herself and the theaters did not allow room for reviving a romance she’d left on the table. Not that Mel’s tone or posture suggested a return to old feelings. He was busy, too, the head of maintenance at Starlight Point. If he’d already seen her plans for renovation on the Midway Theater and the Starlight Saloon Theater, he was probably ready to drive her to the airport.
“Why did you decide to come home?” he asked.
Why did he want to know? She could tell him to mind his own business...but it was a fair question.
A question she’d been dodging since she’d announced she was coming home. In the competitive world of Broadway, she’d only admitted the pain in her knee to her closest friends. And there was no reason to acknowledge it to Mel now. Especially since it already felt better after weeks off the stage.
“I came home to revitalize these theaters,” she said. “I do own a third of Starlight Point.”
Loud music poured from the small speakers behind her.
“Sorry about that,” Megan said, “trying to find the right track.”
June broke eye contact with Mel. He could stay and watch if he wanted to, but she had work to do. She could certainly keep her composure. After dancing in front of thousands of Broadway fans, keeping her heart and mind on her career should be as easy as learning to two-step. She turned to her waiting dancers.
“I made copies of the order of the numbers for you. I’ll grab them.”
June crossed the stage and dug through her lucky duffel, a high school graduation present from her parents. She’d stuffed her shoes and dance clothes in it for years, hauling it along to her Broadway debut in Oklahoma!, her chorus role in Hello, Dolly!, her crazily costumed role in Cats, and her most recent performance in Pippin. In all those shows, she’d been a background dancer. Her next ambition was to get a larger role where she could sing and dance. The front of the stage—that’s where she wanted to be.
She handed out copies of the program and sat at the piano.
“Let’s do a read and sing-through,” she said. “I’ll play since it’s easier than stopping and starting the sound track.”
The six male and six female performers sang through the pieces culled from a dozen or so Broadway shows. Typical audience members would recognize nearly all the songs, and June hoped the combination had just the right energy and appeal for the amusement park crowd.
“Ready to try the first dance number?” she asked, rising from the piano and stacking the music on top.
Her breath quickened just thinking about dancing and she pulled off her hoodie, tossing it toward the side of the stage and taking a quick look to see if Mel was still there.
He was. She should not care either way. Didn’t he have work to do?
June waited, tapping her toe in anticipation while Megan fiddled with the music on her phone.
“Wish I could dance,” Megan said, “but I’m barely surviving morning sickness as it is. Slow movements are my friend right now.”
June smiled sympathetically. “I thought morning sickness was supposed to go away after the first few months?”
“Apparently not for everyone,” Megan said. She finished searching the playlist and looked up. “Ready?”
Spin, step, step, hold, dip. June moved with the dancers, letting the energy of the stage and the familiar music take her back to the time when she never thought about her knee, never took a cautious step waiting for the slice of pain. When she was happy just being a dancer.
She wanted to keep going, but the song ended. Megan thumbed a button on the player and the silence was broken by the dancers’ quick breathing. A moment later, applause from the lone audience member reminded June he was still there.
June walked to the front of the stage, signaling the other dancers to join her. They held hands and did an elaborate stage bow. Mel stood, continuing his applause until the dancers dispersed to the rear of the stage where they’d stowed their water bottles and cell phones.
“Glad you liked it,” June said to Mel.
“What’s not to like?”
She smiled. Despite the four rows of seats between them, he could probably hear her heart racing with adrenaline and endorphins. It was the dancing, her love of the theater. What else would it be?
She focused on the ramshackle catwalk and the back wall, which sported faded posters and a series of cables and spotlights older than she was. There was so much work to do in the weeks before her show opened. Too much.
“I’m glad you asked,” she said, “because I have a long list of jobs that have to be done before anyone lays eyes on this theater or my show.”
Mel nodded. He put his hat on and stepped into the aisle. The way he moved, tugged on his hat...it was as familiar as her mother’s voice in the kitchen or the feel of her father’s hand holding hers. The father she had lost while she was off dancing toward her dream. If she could go back, would she do anything differently?
“You’re not leaving right now?” June asked.
“Work to do.”
“I was hoping to talk to you about some construction I need.”
“Out of time,” he said, his words matter-of-fact.
“You had time to watch us rehearse for half an hour.”
“And it was great. I always knew you’d be a success,” he said.
June crossed her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her voice, combined with surprisingly good acoustics, bounced off the back wall just as Evie and Jack entered the theater. They paused, probably trying to accustom their eyes to the dim lighting.
They had either the best or worst timing in the world.
“What’s up, Mel? Is June ordering you to make this place look like Times Square?” Jack asked.
Evie elbowed Jack and Mel chuckled.
“She’s trying. I interrupted their rehearsal and now I have to get back to work. The Kiddieland helicopters will be grounded unless someone troubleshoots the control panel. Opening day wouldn’t be the same without them.”
He sent one long look at June and slid out the side door, opening a brief rectangle of bright sunshine.
“Still rehearsing? Want us to come back later?” Evie asked.
Behind her, June heard Megan rounding up the dancers and having a quiet conversation with them about blocking and potential props. There would be a million small decisions to make, but a big one was right in front of her.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, carefully sitting on the edge of the stage and scooting off. “We should nail down our plans for final improvements here.”
Jack and Evie exchanged a look. “That’s why we’re here, but I’m not sure we’re going to make your day.”
June shrugged. “I was having a great day until about five minutes ago. Unless you tell me we can’t shape up these old theaters in the next month, I’ll live.”
Jack sat in a theater seat, his long legs protruding into the aisle. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a sandwich bag full of cookies. He bit into a star-shaped sugar cookie and held out the bag.
“Want some?” he mumbled, mouth full.
“You’re stress-eating, Jack. It’s not even lunch and you’re hitting the sweets.”
Evie sunk into a seat in the row in front of her brother. “Better than drinking before lunch.”
“That’s next,” Jack said. “We’re bleeding money and none is coming in.”
“The park’s not even open yet,” June protested. “Stop panicking.”
“We have to be conservative with the little capital we have,” Evie said. “We’re looking for places to cut.”
“Don’t look here. This theater anchors the whole front midway. If it’s closed or cheap-looking, guests will notice.” She rested her hand on a seat back. “Bankers and investors will notice.”
“Can we get away with closing the Starlight Saloon for the year?” Evie asked.
“Are you kidding? My steampunk Western show is going to put the Wonderful West on the map. I can guarantee it will bring people to that part of the park and make them stay. They’ll get elephant ears and tacos while they wait for the train. You can’t afford to make that area into a ghost town. Kids love the shooting range and parents can get a cold beer and catch a show.”
“But the kitchen—” Jack began.
“Sucked last year, but we—you—got by. We can serve prepackaged food and drinks. Chips, cookies, cold bottles. No kitchen required.”
“It would be easier to just—”
“No.” June cut off her sister. “We can do this. Even if we have to work night and day until opening. Remember how you two ran around like the sky was falling last year on the day the vendor boycott and the bankers’ visit collided? Everyone pulled together. Augusta, Mel, the maintenance staff, a few other poor suckers I recruited. We got through it. Starlight Point survived. We can do it again this year. Especially since—” she lowered her voice with a quick glance at the stage, where the dancers and Megan were absorbed in their plans “—we have no choice.”
“Should’ve been a drill sergeant. Or a cheerleader,” Jack grumbled.
“I’d rather dance. The costumes are much better. Right now, I’m getting back to work. This old place is going to shine if I have to scrub the floors myself.”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_b26aae91-750a-5eae-b29b-0905d59527ee)
A WEEK LATER, Mel Preston parked at the maintenance garage, which was tucked out of sight behind a fence, trees and a roller coaster. Just as he had since he was sixteen, he buckled on his tool belt and picked up a clipboard with the day’s work orders. As a young summer employee, he had changed lightbulbs, greased brakes on coasters and cleaned up messes. A dozen years later, he was the head of maintenance, writing and following his own work orders.
Usually.
He frowned at the plans on his desk from a local architect. Starlight Point had its own planning and design team ensuring continuity and maintaining a sense of history at the park. Why June wanted to hire an outside architect to design the facades for her theater upgrades was an irritating mystery.
Mel tossed the plans into the back of a three-wheeled cart and drove through the open gate onto the midway. Some members of his crew were picking up limbs that had fallen in last night’s spring thunderstorm. Old trees lined the trail through the Wonderful West, a quaint and relatively quiet respite from the coasters, flashing lights and games of the front midway.
He parked and surveyed the Starlight Saloon Theater. From the boards on its plank porch floor to the rustic marquee still advertising last year’s Western show, it was old and familiar.
A dented silver spittoon rolled out the front door, bounced down the steps and came to rest by his foot. June stomped onto the porch, hot-pink shirt matching the color in her cheeks. She lugged half a countertop bar behind her. When she saw Mel, she let go of the prop and straightened, her chest heaving with effort.
“Bring me a Dumpster?” she asked, her tone hopeful.
“Not yet. Working on it.”
June sat on a barrel-shaped chair and tapped her foot. “I’ve waited patiently for a week.”
“Patiently?”
“Well,” she said, a half smile appearing. “I have waited.”
“Theaters aren’t the only things that need attention before opening day,” Mel said. “They don’t even open the first couple weeks of the season.”
Mel propped his foot on the spittoon. He wanted to stride onto the porch and ask June why she was always running away. But she was like a bird taking handouts in a park. If he made a sudden move or got too close, she’d head for the nearest tree.
“I do have a project for you,” she said.
“Does it come with breakfast?”
“You don’t want to eat out of the kitchen in this theater. I don’t know how it passed inspection last year.”
“It didn’t,” Mel said. “So we only served drinks at this show. With all the bigger fish to fry after your dad passed away, we let a few things go.”
As Jack’s best friend and an unofficial member of the Hamilton family, Mel knew firsthand that Starlight Point had flirted with bankruptcy. When Jack opened the books after his father’s fatal heart attack, he found a mess that had taken years to accumulate. It would take years to clean up, but Jack and Evie had gotten a strong start last summer.
June fished a rubber band from her jeans pocket and gathered her long light brown hair into a tight ponytail. Although only two years younger than he was, June looked like a lost little girl sitting on a barrel in front of the empty saloon.
“I don’t think I ever got to tell you how sorry I was about your father’s death,” Mel said.
June met his eyes. “You did. You were at his funeral.”
“The whole town of Bayside and anyone who ever worked at Starlight Point was at his funeral,” Mel said.
“I remember talking to you.” She smiled and her whole face softened. “You brought me a tissue and a glass of iced water.”
Although the entire Hamilton family was shocked at Ford’s death, June seemed to take it the hardest. Maybe that’s because she felt guilty about not being around the past few years. Was that why she decided to come home this summer?
“Least I could do,” he said.
“And you’ve been there for Jack,” she said, standing and moving closer. “When he took over last spring, he needed a good friend.”
“We all do.”
June crossed her arms and leaned back on a porch post. She stared at her feet for fifteen seconds while Mel counted silently. He recognized the grubby work boots she’d had for years. She’d worn them as she helped around the park in the off-season until she went away for college. He remembered every tool she’d ever handed him and each ride she’d accepted in his cart. The owner’s daughter and his best friend’s sister who’d always been around.
“Can you tell me why the main electric switch won’t turn on in this old theater?” June asked, adopting a neutral, businesslike tone. “I have to finish cleaning in here and I need to keep working when it gets dark or I’ll never get it all done.”
Mel had never doubted June’s dancing ability, but he wished she wasn’t using it to sashay a wide circle around him. There was no question it was better that way. Better to pretend that summer seven years ago and that kiss had never happened.
He picked up his clipboard. “Don’t think that’s on my orders for the day,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m supposed to run electrical diagnostics on the Sea Devil, fix the organ’s circuit board on the Midway Carousel, and call the state inspectors about the ride license for the Skyway cars. Boss won’t like it if I get diverted.”
June snorted. “You are the boss.”
Mel smiled. “I love hearing you say that. How about once more?”
“Very funny.”
“It is funny. Because you, Jack and Evie are in charge of this place. I just work here.”
He swung one leg into his cart, turning his back on June.
“Hey,” she said.
Mel tensed, wriggling his shoulders in his blue work shirt, the tag grating the sensitive skin on the back of his neck. He turned toward June and fought a grin. She looked hopeful and bossy at the same time. Close to the six-foot mark with long, slim arms and legs, she reminded him of Jack. Her green eyes flecked with brown and her full lips made Mel remember she’d briefly been his girlfriend. Until she’d left for college and left him cold.
“I can spare a half hour,” he said. “But you have to help. The wiring in there hasn’t been updated during my lifetime, and the conduit runs up high over the stage.” He strode over and stopped in front of June, eye level with her on the elevated porch. “It’s going to be a real pain in the neck,” he said.
June laughed, stepped back and shoved through the swinging saloon doors.
* * *
IF SHE WANTED to revisit a time when her insides didn’t flip whenever Mel Preston came into view, she’d have to go back about a decade. The first time she’d seen him was at her older brother’s seventh birthday party. Even then, his sandy hair and blue eyes combined with a giant smile had set him miles above Jack’s other friends. When high school rolled around, she’d started to realize just how much she liked him. Now, at six foot three, Mel was easily head and broad shoulders over other men. Except Jack. June’s older brother and Mel had competed for vertical supremacy throughout high school until Jack finally edged Mel out by one inch during a late-teen growth spurt.
Gradually, over the last decade, their easy relationship had heated, tempered, flared, cooled and simmered. But never jelled. It didn’t have a chance to because June couldn’t give up her dream to tap her toes on Broadway. The two live theaters at Starlight Point with their creaking floors and seats were not enough for her then or now.
How ironic that she was standing in one of those theaters and trying to make it sparkle. Temporary, she reminded herself.
She tilted her head to see Mel balanced on a ladder ten feet over the stage. Only his worn work boots were visible from her angle. A screwdriver clattered to the floor, almost clobbering her on its way down.
“Sorry about that,” Mel said. “Can you toss it back up here?”
“I’m a bad throw,” she said, picking it up. The handle still held Mel’s heat.
He chuckled. “I know.”
“Hey,” she said. “I was only ten and you guys were twelve. Big difference. And I didn’t want to play baseball anyway but you were short a player.”
“That was my first time replacing a pane of glass,” Mel said. “I did okay and your parents probably never would’ve known if Evie hadn’t told on us.”
“Too young to know better,” June said. “She was only six or seven.”
June tossed the screwdriver up but missed by several feet, causing Mel to overreach and almost fall off the ladder.
“I better come get it before someone loses an eye,” Mel said.
He backed down the ladder while June crossed the stage to retrieve the fallen tool. Her back to him, she said, “Your son’s about six, isn’t he?”
“He’ll turn six this summer. Starts first grade in the fall.”
She turned to face him as he stepped off the bottom rung, a flicker of silence between them.
Mel jerked his head toward the upper catwalk without taking his eyes off June. “Think that old catwalk for the lighting will hold my weight?” he asked. “I don’t know if it’s been used in years.”
“I hope so. My shows include lots of lighting. Maybe some special effects.”
“In the Wonderful West? Seems out of place,” Mel commented.
June rolled her eyes. “What you know about theater would fit in your back pocket.”
“Maybe,” he said, taking the screwdriver from her outstretched palm, “but that’s where this goes. Lucky for you, I know about electricity.”
June watched him climb one rung at a time. When he reached the junction box ten feet up, he put a small flashlight between his teeth. Although full daylight outside, the theater was dim.
“I’ve gotta follow this line,” Mel said. He climbed another five rungs and eased onto the narrow metal catwalk that hugged the theater on three sides. Ancient spotlights were mounted beneath it and cables snaked over and under it.
“Seems solid,” Mel said. “I’m going down to the junction box in the corner. I have to see where we have spark and where we don’t.”
Good idea, June thought, following his progress as he crawled along the back wall. She held her breath when he slid across a gap between missing supports. When he reached the corner, the flashlight between his teeth threw patterns of light on the wall as he banged at something metallic.
“Any luck?” June called.
“Just...” The flashlight clanked onto the steel catwalk, rolled off and crashed onto the floor near June. The light went dark.
“Shouldn’t have opened my mouth,” Mel said from the darkness above her.
“My fault,” June said. “I asked you a question.”
“You can make it up to me by digging through the toolbox on my cart and finding me another flashlight.”
“Be right back.”
June headed for the daylight streaming through the front windows. Mel’s cart had two toolboxes and she had to dig through both before finding a large industrial-looking flashlight.
Inside, Mel’s long legs hung over the side of the catwalk fifteen feet up. He swung his feet like a kid waiting for his third-grade girlfriend on the playground.
“Can I convince you to bring that up here?” Mel asked.
“I could throw it.”
“I haven’t got a death wish. Just come up the ladder and I’ll crawl along the catwalk and meet you at the top.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. She knew he wouldn’t. June had worked at Starlight Point until she was eighteen. During the off-season, she’d tromped around handing tools to maintenance men after school, climbing the emergency steps on coasters and taking any challenge. When she was old enough to officially work, she’d sold popcorn until she finally convinced her parents to let her dance on stage. Although her parents owned the amusement park, they made their children work regular summer jobs. It was a great way to see Starlight Point from the inside out, and all three of them had earned reputations as hard workers.
Mel had every reason to think she’d scamper up the ladder, flashlight in hand, like she would have done in the past.
But the shining aluminum faced her like a demon.
Her heart rate accelerated as she placed one foot on the bottom rung and pulled herself up with her free hand. One rung down, at least fifteen more to go. Maybe she could do this. Jumper’s knee. That’s what her doctor had called it. If she stretched, did her exercises, and avoided stairs and high-impact jumps, it would get better. She’d been taking it easy, keeping her movements small and not telling a soul. She felt stronger, ready to take on these theaters and get on with her life.
She sucked in a breath and steeled herself for another vertical step.
Pain streaked through her right knee when she put her foot on the next rung and tried to pull herself up. Agonizing pain. Ladders were not on her therapy plan. A wave of nausea hit her and sweat chilled the back of her neck. She dropped the flashlight and grabbed both sides of the ladder. She stepped backward to the floor, fumbling for the light, afraid to look up. Back on both feet, the pain subsided and she took a deep breath.
“What are you doing?” Mel asked.
Trying to pretend everything is just fine. “Picking up the flashlight,” she said tersely. “What does it look like?”
“At this rate, it’ll be dark before I even get started. That’s an expensive light, so be careful with it.”
“Sorry,” she said, eyeing the ladder and trying to think of a graceful way out. Her heartbeat pulsed through her neck and hammered in her ears. She risked a glance up. Mel lay full length on the catwalk, his chin propped in his hands. Waiting for her.
But that was a mountain she was not climbing today.
She parked the light at the bottom of the ladder. “If it’s so precious, you better come get it yourself,” she said. “I’m going back to work in the prop storage room.”
She walked slowly and carefully away, willing herself not to show a trace of weakness. Would Mel let her off the hook? The catwalk overhead groaned and the ladder behind her creaked as Mel started down it.
“Don’t know when you became such a princess that you can’t help a guy out,” he said.
June counted to thirty, numbering her steady steps to the storage room door. She closed it, sat on a box and elevated her leg on a dusty plastic hitching post. She was still sitting there staring at years of props in the gray light from the solitary window when the overhead fluorescent lights buzzed on. She waited, listening, until Mel’s cart started up and drove away. Rubbing her knee, June tried to quell the panic in her chest. If she couldn’t dance, she couldn’t go back to Broadway and the roles she had already sacrificed so much for.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1f744f25-0ce5-5918-b880-d32d72c1f75f)
EVIE SAT AT Jack’s desk, staring at his computer through her green-rimmed glasses. Three years younger than June, Evie was generally sweet, except in her ruthless devotion to accurate accounts. And her attitude toward the architect June had hired to fancy up the two live-show venues.
“The money is one thing. But I don’t see why we should pay his hourly rate when we already have our own planners,” Evie said. “And how much do you think we can really get done on the facades when the park opens in a week? It’s nuts.”
Jack, who was standing by the window, raised one eyebrow at June. His look said you’re on your own with this argument.
June wasn’t asking for the moon and stars. She just wanted the theaters to look like they hadn’t been designed by the same person who’d imagined the cheeseburger stand. Something a little more modern—even a new paint scheme and lightbulbs would be better than nothing.
“Fresh blood,” June said. “Our planning guys will just come up with the same old same old.”
“So?” Evie asked. “Same old ensures continuity. People like the old-fashioned aura. Even if you don’t.”
“News flash,” June said. “Change is good.”
June crossed her arms and leaned against the large window beside Jack. He’d finally moved into their father’s office over the winter. Last summer, he’d kept the smaller office next door out of a combination of shock, grief and respect. Moving into this office—rich with their father’s history, his big wooden desk, awards and mementos from years in the business—was a sign Jack was growing into the job of CEO.
“I refuse to be the grown-up here, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jack said. “Just because I’m the tallest and smartest of the three of us.”
Evie breathed loudly through her nose and stared down her older siblings. When had she gotten so opinionated? Evie had always been the nice, sweet one. Hadn’t she? June had been away for seven years, and in that time Evie had gone from fifteen to twenty-two. Practically a lifetime.
“Fifteen hundred bucks so far and all I’ve gotten out of him is an argument,” Evie said.
“You argue with people?” June asked.
“I’m doing it right now.”
“That’s different,” June said. “We’re related. And what the heck is wrong with doing something new around here? You opened the Sea Devil last year. A multimillion-dollar roller coaster is a pretty big deal compared to what I’m suggesting.”
Although it was by choice, June felt like a third wheel when she had meetings with Jack and Evie about Starlight Point and its future. The small profits last year had been split three ways. This year’s profit would be split as well, even though it’d certainly still be modest as they worked to convince the bankers to extend the loan.
June wanted to earn her share, small though it was. And theater was the best way she knew how to do that. Better shows could mean more ticket sales. They might bring local pass holders across the Point Bridge a few more times each summer to see the shows, and locals spend money on popcorn, elephant ears and soda.
“The Sea Devil was Dad’s idea,” Jack said. “He started it, he just didn’t get to finish it.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t add new rides in the future?” June asked.
Jack exhaled slowly, staring out the second-floor window at the front section of the midway. “I’m saying I wouldn’t go that big, especially if it practically bankrupted us. Not anytime soon.”
“Our plan for this year is good,” Evie said. “Small improvements that guests will notice. New paint, a few new facades on buildings—”
“Like both theaters,” June said.
Evie went on as if her sister weren’t even there. “Restroom upgrades, new safety belts in the children’s rides, new signs on the Point Bridge. But we’re not breaking the bank.”
“Unless the bank breaks us,” June said.
Jack waved at someone outside and then turned back to his sisters. “If we made it through last year, we’ll make it through this year. The bankers liked what they saw last summer even though we had very little time to do anything. We have a solid plan. And one of our owners is now a CPA with more money sense than the other two of us put together.”
“Hope it helps,” Evie said.
“Credibility,” Jack said, “helps make up for the fact another one of the owners is a Broadway dancer who never sticks around.”
June narrowed her eyes and threw a pencil at him. The elevator outside Jack’s office dinged.
“Mom,” Jack whispered. “And she’s got Betty with her. I just saw them outside.”
Virginia Hamilton zipped into the room. She pulled a red wagon behind her and parked it by Jack’s desk. The brown, black and white dog snoozing on a blanket in the wagon opened one eye, yawned and went back to sleep.
Evie rolled over in Jack’s chair and stroked the dog’s ears. “Betty smells good today,” she said, smiling at her mother.
“Just picked her up from the groomer. She rolled in something dead on the beach yesterday,” Virginia said. “How’s it going here in the war room with one week before the big opening?”
Jack groaned loudly. Evie rolled back to the desk. And June looked out the window, thinking about big openings she’d been part of before. Opening day at the park every year through her eighteenth birthday. Opening night of four major Broadway productions. She was getting to be a pro at pulling a show together.
The elevator dinged in the silence and Mel ambled in.
He stopped. His eyes met June’s and held for a heartbeat until he shifted to the oldest member of the family.
“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t mean to interrupt. I just came by to see if Jack wanted to get some lunch. I need a break from trying to figure out how water got into the circuit boards of the Silver Streak over the winter.”
June hadn’t seen Mel since he’d turned on her lights at the Starlight Saloon. She’d heard through Jack that Mel was rewiring the entire theater before he’d allow even one extension cord to be plugged in, so she’d avoided the Saloon for a week, focusing on costume and prop designs instead.
“Gus is bringing lunch,” Jack said. “She’s coming over anyway to get her three bakeries ready to open.”
“I hear she’s working up some new creations for this summer, themed pies and turnovers,” Mel said, wiping a fake tear and using a tragic voice, “I love your wife.”
Jack punched Mel’s shoulder. “There’s probably enough lunch for you, but no way am I sharing dessert.”
“I can live with those rules,” Mel said. He dropped to one knee and made kissing sounds to Betty, who hopped out of the wagon, threw herself at him with embarrassing abandon and rolled over for a belly rub.
Virginia cleared her throat. “While we wait, I thought we could talk about my STRIPE program this year.”
June turned back to the window, staring outside. Every year, Virginia muscled someone into running the Summer Training and Improvement Plan for Employees. Every employee had to participate and learn a specific skill such as conversational French, water rescue, ballroom dancing, knitting. In the past, the program had been mandatory. Last summer, it had become voluntary. But it was still an onerous task for whoever Virginia chose to be the STRIPE sergeant.
“Any ideas?” Virginia asked, enthusiastically. “What should the STRIPE topic be this year?”
“I’m off the hook,” Gus said, coming through the door with a cardboard box filled with paper bags and drinks. “I taught hundreds of people to decorate a birthday cake last summer. I’m still recovering.”
“And you were wonderful,” Virginia said. She cleared a space on Jack’s desk so her daughter-in-law could set the box down.
Jack approached the food, eyeing the bags but avoiding direct eye contact with his mother. June smiled at his pathetic attempt. If he thought cowering would save him, he was in for a surprise.
“How about kayaking, Jack?” Virginia asked. “The lake is one of our best assets, and you’re such a good rower. You’d be great.”
“Sorry, Mom, too busy. And I don’t know where we’d get dozens of practice kayaks.”
“Don’t we rent those on the hotel beach?” June asked. “I thought we had thirty or forty kayaks.”
When their mother turned her back, Jack stuck his tongue out at June.
“Evie,” Virginia said, turning to her youngest daughter, “no one can doubt the importance of managing money. You could teach practical bookkeeping. How to balance a checkbook. Perhaps the wisdom of investing at a young age.” Virginia’s face lit up. “Stock tips!” she proclaimed.
Evie took off her glasses and cleaned them meticulously until her mother moved on to her next target.
“June,” Virginia said, approaching June’s hiding spot by the window. Great, she thinks I’m going to teach them all to dance. Maybe I should tell her about my bum knee instead of keeping it a secret. I could use a great excuse for getting out of the STRIPE.
“How about teaching piano lessons? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone could play something nice like Für Elise or Happy Birthday on the piano?”
June blew out a sigh. Teaching two thousand summer employees to read music and play the piano with both hands would be worse than teaching the tango. “You can’t play the piano, Mom, and you’re perfectly fine.”
“I’d be better if someone would teach me to play.”
“Sorry, no time,” June said, eyebrows raised in innocence. “Choreography, costumes, blocking... The theaters are a huge task. Huge. Plus, I may have to take a short-notice trip to New York for auditions at some point. Can’t guarantee I’ll be here on the class days. You’d have to hire a substitute teacher. Could get pricey.”
“It might give you a purpose,” Virginia insisted. “Make you feel like you’re part of the team.”
June felt her cheeks heat. She wondered when the guilt trip would start. Jack and Evie were devoting their lives to the family business. Why wasn’t she?
She could explain in one sentence. She didn’t want to. She’d never made any promises and she had a right to her own career—a career she hoped would soon step beyond dancing into lead singing and acting roles. She had no plans to give that up.
“I don’t need a purpose. I have my own life. I’ve already given up my summer to be here. If that’s not enough for you, I don’t know what you want.”
June saw Evie’s face flush, probably mirroring her own. Augusta focused on handing out lunches. Jack dug into a sandwich.
Only Mel appeared willing to get in the middle of the family volley.
“Simple electricity,” he said.
Everyone turned to stare at him. What is he doing?
“Electrical circuits,” he said. “Basic wiring.”
More staring.
He accepted a sandwich and a drink from Virginia, smiling and asking, “Don’t you think it would be a good idea for people to learn something about voltage and current? Maybe wire a switch?”
Virginia swished her lips to the side. “You mean for a STRIPE topic?”
“Uh-huh,” Mel said.
“Don’t most people hire an electrician?” Jack asked. “Like you?”
“For big jobs, yes,” Mel said. “Same reason they go to a bakery for big or fancy cakes.” He nodded at Augusta who gave him a two-eyebrows-raised look of skepticism.
“But you can make birthday cakes at home,” Mel continued, “and you can do a lot of wiring on your own, too.”
Why was Mel arguing to be in charge of the STRIPE when he’d probably spent the last decade dodging the event? He had to be out of his mind. Everyone in the office was looking at him as if he’d just announced an elegant tea party in the maintenance garage.
“I don’t know,” Virginia said. “Electricity can be dangerous.”
Evie laughed and rolled her eyes at her mother. “Water-skiing was dangerous, Mom. The water rescue thing two summers ago was dangerous. Even the conversational French got pretty dicey when some of our locals tried it on the international workers we hired that year.”
“That was not my fault,” Virginia said. “French is a very romantic language.”
“Sounds like voltage is the safe choice this summer,” Mel said. “Can’t cause an international incident with that, and I’ll make sure no one gets electrocuted.”
Virginia sipped her drink and stared at Mel. “Do you think you could teach hundreds of summer employees about electricity?”
“I’d need plenty of help,” Mel said. “Some of the other maintenance guys are really good and all of them know at least something about electricity. But I still need volunteers. Guys I can get, but I’d like females, too. It’s good evidence there’s no gender bias in wiring a circuit.” Mel grinned, catching June’s eye. “Women can handle sparks just as well as men can.”
June wanted to be mad at Mel for trying to be a hero. But she couldn’t. Because she was the one he saved. She had no idea why he’d thrown himself on the STRIPE grenade, but she had a feeling she was going to find out.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_4062da1a-b312-59fa-991f-7136b52c8f1d)
OPENING DAY WAS PERFECT. Blue sky, a forecast of 75 degrees and a tiny breeze off Lake Huron. The typical first-day crowd was a combination of roller coaster fanatics, families with little kids anxious for their turn on the helicopters and bumper cars of Kiddieland, and locals who’d had enough of long winters in Michigan. Folks who wanted to smell and feel summer.
The newly improved loudspeakers played theme park music. Food vendors sent heavenly aromas to lure guests in.
Perfect. Except for one thing.
“We need a parade,” June declared. “Floats, music, live performers.”
Evie and Jack exchanged a look. “I knew we shouldn’t have let you conduct the ceremonial gate opening,” Jack said. “The excitement went to your head.”
June giggled. “It was exhilarating. I thought the pack of preteens would break a speed record as soon as I declared the Point open.”
“There’s a certain cachet to being the first in line at the Sea Devil,” Jack said. He cracked his knuckles. “I already rode it twice yesterday, but I won’t tell the coaster fanatics. It’d burst their bubble.”
“I haven’t been here on opening day in seven years,” June said. “I forgot about the adrenaline.”
“I’m glad you’re here this year,” Jack said. His expression sobered and he slung an arm around both his sisters. “We’re in this together.”
Evie leaned into the hug. “I know,” she said. “I miss Dad the most on days like this.”
June felt tears prick her eyes and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Standing off to the side and watching guests stream through the gates, June, Evie and Jack did a paradoxical combination of holding their breath and deep breathing.
“Off and running,” Evie said. “If we made it through last year, we can make it through anything.”
They watched parents with strollers moving at the back of the pack. Older people with no ride-crazed kids dragging them forward sauntered along. They’d be the first to notice new paint, signs, different offerings in food and merchandise. Everyone else was headed for the queue lines, ready for a coaster fix after a long winter.
June kept her eyes on a couple roughly her parents’ age, holding hands and looking around, pointing things out to each other. Laughing. Really noticing the sunshine and the flowers planted in a pattern that would look best from the Skyway cars above. She wondered how many years they’d been coming to Starlight Point. Maybe they’d met here when they were teenagers and had already raised a family, coming to the Point every summer and making albums of memories. Her vision blurred and her eyes stung a little. She shook it off. For all she knew, it was their first date and they’d met on a seniors gambling bus tour.
“A parade would be perfect for the midafternoon doldrums,” June said. “You know. Three o’clock when the buzz wears off a little and the sunburn starts stinging. Kids get all cranky and parents are looking for a mood-changer. They could line up for a parade.”
“I thought they were going to fill the seats in your theaters. Soak up the air-conditioning,” Jack said. “A parade is the opposite.”
“No, it isn’t,” June said. “It takes the show to the people. Live music, costumes, dancing. Maybe we could have a banner made up, advertising showtimes in the theaters.”
Evie and Jack glanced at their sister and returned to counting the guests streaming past.
“Everyone loves a parade,” June added.
Evie shrugged.
“Maybe next year,” Jack said. “If we’re lucky, you’ll forget all about it.”
“I’m serious.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“How hard would it be to jazz up the high school band thing that’s been going on for years?” June asked.
Every summer, high school bands from all over the state applied for a day at the Point. Band members got free admission in exchange for two performances. They played the national anthem at the front gates at park opening and marched through the park at some point in the day. Decent deal for the high school kids, probably hellish for the chaperones and a vague return in live entertainment for the Point.
“We standardize the time of their marching performance—say three o’clock every day—and add some other stuff,” June said.
“Opening day fever has gotten to you,” Evie said. “It’s a lot of adrenaline to handle, and I forget your immunity is down. You probably think you can do a triathlon right now.”
“Or at least name all fifty states and their capitals,” Jack said.
“Everything seems possible on opening day,” Evie said. “It’s the family curse. It makes us commit to a lifetime of insanity, one hundred days at a time. And then spend the other two thirds of the year wondering what the heck we were thinking. It’s a Vegas-wedding way to spend your life.”
“But you love it,” June said.
Evie smiled and waved to a little girl shoving an umbrella stroller with her doll in it. “Of course I do. I’d be crazy not to.”
“And you love my idea of a parade.”
“Maybe,” Evie said. “I’d have to see how it looks on paper.”
“I’ll take a picture of it going down the midway and email it to you.”
Evie cocked her head and blew out a long sigh. “You can’t just pull something like this out of your hat.”
“Sure I can. It won’t be that hard to put together a float, get some of my dancers to ride along and entertain, maybe a banner. I just need a theme and I’m good to go.”
“But—” Evie protested.
“Listen. I own this place,” June said, smirking. “I can pull this off if I want to.”
“One-third,” Evie said. “You’re not even a simple majority.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair and loosened his tie. “If you want a controlling interest, you can have my share,” he said, heading straight for Aunt Augusta’s bakery on the midway, a beacon of sugary hope under a pink awning.
“How does he stay so skinny?” June asked.
“He’s in love,” Evie said.
June and her sister stood side by side watching hundreds of guests continue through the front gates. From their position on a small raised bandstand, they could also see over the front ticket counters to the Point Bridge, where cars waited at the toll booths. Sunlight flashed off windshields, and the line of vehicles stretched all the way to Bayside.
“And how about you?” June asked. “Anyone you’ve got your eye on?”
Evie shook her head. “I’m married to Starlight Point right now. I’m trying to get the red ink and the black ink to pick out china patterns together.”
“Might do you some good to get out of the office every day. You might meet people. Maybe around three o’clock?”
“Nice try.”
“I’d let you wear a sparkly sash and carry the banner,” June said.
“I think I’ll stay in the office and be the adult in charge.”
June raised her arm and did a perfect beauty pageant wave, nodding and smiling at her sister.
“You’re perfect for the job,” Evie said. “You’ve got more drama in one arm than I’ve got in my whole body.”
June laughed. “Someday, that’s going to change.”
“You mean you’re going to give up the stage?”
“Nope,” June said, “I mean you’ll get in touch with your inner drama queen one of these days.”
“Doubt it,” Evie said. She glanced at her smartphone and tucked it back in her skirt pocket. “You can have two thousand bucks to get your parade going. That has to cover float, costumes, everything. It’s the best I can do.”
“I’ll take it. I might even do it for less and spend the rest on a spa day for us.”
“Rain check on that until November.”
“No good. You’ll be insane by then and I’ll be in New York.”
Evie shoulder-hugged her sister. “I wish you’d stay. No matter how expensive your plans are.” She smiled at June and started to walk away.
“Evie,” June said, stopping her sister. “Which columns are the good ones—red or black?”
“Depends on how much fun you’re having,” Evie said, laughing, and then she turned and headed toward the corporate office behind the midway games.
* * *
“WHO THE DEVIL made this mess?” Mel thundered. It was almost ten o’clock at night. Mel would’ve gone home hours ago but rides shuttered for six months didn’t come to life without some kinks. Opening week was a maintenance challenge every year. That’s why his son, Ross, spent the week before and the week of opening “on vacation” at his grandparents’ house in Bayside. Without their help, Mel didn’t know what he’d do.
Without a beer, a shower and at least five hours of sleep tonight, he was on the verge of stealing one of the bumper cars and wreaking havoc on the Point Bridge.
The last thing he needed now was a mess in his maintenance garage. Someone had rearranged rolling tool chests, moved a lawnmower, turned on every light in the place and dragged an ancient maintenance scooter from its personal graveyard in the far back corner. Clanking and voices led Mel to the other corner where one of his most trusted year-round workers—Galway—was shoving a big box of stuff on a two-wheeled cart.
“What are you doing?” Mel yelled.
Jack stepped out from behind a tall rolling tool chest. “Plotting your overthrow,” he said. “I’ve just made Galway here the head of maintenance. Gave him your corner office, key to your personal bathroom, everything.”
Mel kicked a tire resting against a steel post. It rolled across the floor and whacked Jack in the leg.
“He can have it,” Mel said. “I’m going home. Someone else can clean up this mess.”
“Any idea how long it’s been since that old beer truck ran?” Jack asked, completely ignoring Mel’s outburst and pointing to a shadow in the far back corner.
“Two hundred years,” Mel said, his mood steadily worsening. “Heck if I know, it’s been at least ten since we sold beer in those trucks on the midway. Don’t even know why we even have one of them around anymore.”
“I think it’s perfect,” June said, her voice emanating from inside the boxy truck. “Needs some work,” she added.
“What’s going on?” Mel asked. He could already guess he didn’t want to hear it. Especially if it involved June. From what he’d seen in the weeks she’d been home, it was obvious she hadn’t changed much. She was just as beautiful. Her smile was just as wide. And her ideas remained way up high in the sparkly and expensive clouds.
“June wants a parade,” Jack said.
Mel rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. That beer and shower might as well be on Mars. “What’s the occasion?”
Galway locked his tool chest, pocketed the key, glanced over his shoulder and quietly left the shop. Mel couldn’t blame him. If he could lock up and leave, he would. But he didn’t own the place and he was stuck listening to some harebrained idea involving one of the old beer trucks. On a pickup truck frame for maneuverability, the beer trucks had served gallons of the cold stuff for years on the midway. A sliding glass window on the side made it easy for guests to walk up and indulge.
“A daily parade,” Jack explained. “Afternoons. Down the midway, through the Wonderful West and out the back gate.”
“You twirling a baton and leading it?” Mel asked Jack.
“Nope. You are.”
“Kiss my butt. I’m going home.”
The back doors on the long abandoned truck creaked open and June looked out. Her hair was pulled back, but several chunks of it slipped out and framed her face, flushed with energy and sunburn.
“Plenty of room in here for sound equipment,” June said, her voice vibrating with excitement. “We could put a speaker on the roof for days when we don’t have a high school band lined up.”
Mel felt the air change the moment her gaze swung to him. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she brightened because of any reason except one: he was key to getting things done around Starlight Point. And she had a project in mind.
“Hey, Mel,” she said.
Mel crossed his arms and leaned against one of the many steel posts supporting the roof of the maintenance garage. “Happy opening day, June. I can’t believe you’re not dead on your feet.”
She smiled. “I’m used to long days on my feet. Staying up late. Broadway, you know.” She ended her explanation with a tiny shrug.
It was far more endearing than he wanted it to be. He pictured her for a moment, a brief flash where he saw June singing and dancing under bright lights, electrifying a crowd of thousands.
And now she wanted a parade.
“Long day,” Jack said. “Think I’ll go home and let you two work this out.”
Mel flicked a glance at his friend but didn’t say anything. Jack didn’t need his permission to leave. But Mel wished he’d stick around and help him fend off June’s ridiculous request.
Walking slowly toward the beer wagon, Mel heard Jack’s receding footsteps, and the shop door clicked closed.
June stood in the back of the piece of junk she apparently hoped to make into a parade vehicle. Mel didn’t give a darn if she was standing in Air Force One. He was tired. Exhausted from the maniacal ecstasy of opening day. There was a chicken potpie in his freezer just waiting for its five minutes in the microwave.
“You’re out of your mind,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “Doing a parade every day on top of however many shows is nuts.”
“Ten,” she said. “Six in the Midway Theater, four in the Starlight Saloon.”
“Whatever. It’s still crazy.”
June sat on the floor of the truck, her legs dangling off the back. “I’ve done crazy things before,” she said.
They were alone in the shop. Maybe this was the time to ask June if their summer romance seven years ago meant anything to her, or if it was just one of the crazy things she’d done. Suddenly, Mel remembered their awkward dance at her senior prom. He saw scattered moments as if a slow-motion movie were playing, filled with images of them together and not together. Like two magnets with the same polarity shoving themselves backward. If their charge ever reversed...
But it wouldn’t. June always had one foot out the door, the other one right behind.
“Can you help me?” June asked.
Mel didn’t answer. He concentrated on the scuffed toe of his work boot. He heard her sigh and shove off the back of the truck. Feet in green sneakers appeared right in front of him.
“Can this wait until next month or next year?”
He hazarded a glance up. She stood, arms crossed. “I won’t be here next year.”
“I know.”
“And...”
He shook his head. “None of my business if you want to keep running away from home.”
Her cheeks colored and he knew he’d struck a nerve. He’d had no intention of firing any weapons, but it had been a very long day.
Instead of looking angry, June cocked her head and studied Mel.
“You don’t ever wonder if there’s something else out there for you—something outside of Starlight Point?”
He shook his head.
“You want to stay on this merry-go-round your whole life? Working all year getting ready for a summer of twelve-hour days?”
Mel glanced at the dusty wall clock. “Fifteen hours.”
June sighed, uncrossing her arms. “Some things in life you only get one solid chance at,” she said. “Apparently you don’t get that. Nobody seems to.”
She swung around and flung the shop door open, disappearing into the night and leaving the parade issue on the table.
“Yes, I do,” Mel said in the empty shop, an echo his only answer.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_048ddce5-c04a-5fe0-a281-7d9e01cebcab)
DRESSED IN HER dancing clothes and running her troupe through a scene, June only heard her cell phone ring because there was a break in the music.
“Trouble at the Silver Streak,” Evie said. “Can you run over and see what’s going on?”
“I’m in rehearsals. This show opens in seven days.”
“Sorry. Jack and I are interviewing candidates for the open accounting and finance position. The Silver Streak is right behind your theater so I hoped you could run over and see what the big deal is.”
June sighed. “I’ll pin on my name tag and go see.”
Two Starlight Point police officers got there ahead of June and the first-aid staff. One of the officers, Don Murray, had been there since before June could remember. Large and stoic, he was a mountain in uniform at the entrance gate of the Silver Streak. He gave June a meaningful look and nodded toward the turnstiles behind him. The dual system of turnstiles counted guests who entered the queue lines on the midway and those who made it all the way through the line to the loading platform. Maybe comparing the numbers was interesting for someone like Evie. If she did compare them, the numbers were not going to match up today.
The first-aid scooter, obnoxious horn beeping, pulled up behind June and one of the firefighters got out, shouldering a first-responder bag. The tall firefighter, Martin, nodded at June and spoke in a low voice, “Dispatch said there’s a leg stuck in the turnstile. No idea how something like that happens.”
“Is it bad?” she asked.
“We’ll see,” the other firefighter, Curt, said. “We called Maintenance as soon as we got here. Probably need help taking apart the turnstile.”
A boy who appeared to be fifteen years old raised his head when June and the two firefighters walked up the steps to the loading platform. Lanky and blond, the kid wore the summer uniform of basketball shorts and a Pistons T-shirt.
The Silver Streak was silent, summer workers standing around watching the spectacle. The boy whose leg was trapped grimaced in pain while two ride operators held him in the air above the three-pronged silver arms of the turnstile. His leg was twisted at a terrible angle.
June’s knee hurt just looking at the kid’s leg. There’s no pain like knee pain. Before she could ask the boy what happened, the rear entrance of the Silver Streak opened and Mel strode through. His long legs flashed and he carried a huge tool bag slung over his shoulder. He made brief eye contact with June and the two firefighters and drilled in on the mechanical problem.
“Did you try to jump over it?” Mel asked the kid, a reassuring smile on his face.
“Uh-huh,” the boy replied.
“Looks like you almost made it, but I don’t recommend trying it again.”
Why on earth would someone try to jump over a turnstile? Boys. The kid was paying for his stupidity now, though. And how did he get stuck like that? Apparently, his foot didn’t clear the arms of the silver turnstile as he tried to jump it. His shoe hooked, the arms locked, and he was trapped.
“My knee is broken,” the boy whined.
“You can’t really break your knee,” Martin said. “But that’s gotta hurt.”
Martin slid an arm under the skinny teen and held him up. Both ride operators scooted back, obviously happy to be relieved of the sweaty and miserable victim of the turnstile.
“I’ll hold him up if you can slide the leg out,” Martin told his partner.
“Can’t. The arm locked a notch back and the angle...” He didn’t finish the sentence, but June knew what he meant. This was going to be a painful lesson for the kid, and he would never want to look at a turnstile again, much less jump over one to impress his friends.
Mel knelt and examined the boy’s leg and the mechanical operation of the machine. He wiped sweat from his brow. June imagined him racing to get here in the maintenance scooter, which was probably parked under the platform. Starlight Point was surrounded by a road informally called the outer loop which offered multiple gates into the park. These gates were always locked and used only by maintenance and security, but they provided quick access when necessary without driving vehicles on the park’s midways. Only the onsite fire department drove on the midways during park operating hours, and only if it was really necessary.
“I think we can get his leg out if we take it apart,” Mel said. “I brought a bunch of tools.”
“You can’t take my leg apart,” the kid cried.
“No,” Mel assured him. “We’re taking the machine apart. I don’t cut up legs. Not in my job description.”
June glanced around, hoping no one was taking cell phone video or pictures of this. Ride closed, line empty, upset friends and armed security standing by. Two girls and one boy, probably friends of the kid locked in the turnstile, stood on the platform talking to one of the ride operators and watching anxiously. At least they don’t have their cell phones out.
“What’s your name?” Mel asked the boy as he knelt underneath him and started to remove the weathered blue metal shields on the turnstile.
“Jason.”
“First time at Starlight Point?”
The boy shook his head. “We live in Bayside and come all the time.”
“First time jumping over a turnstile?”
Jason shook his head and lowered his eyes. His flushed face got even more red.
“First time not making it over?” Mel asked.
Jason nodded and made eye contact, a tiny smile breaking through the pain on his face.
“Thought so. Were you trying to impress one of those girls over there?”
The kid looked down. “I feel stupid.”
“Don’t,” Mel said. He pointed to a scar above his eyebrow. “See this? I got it trying to impress a girl. I don’t even want to tell you how.”
“Did it work?”
“She didn’t even know I was alive. Story of my life,” Mel said.
June stood silently listening to their conversation, impressed by Mel’s ability to put the boy at ease. He must be a wonderful father.
“We’ll get you out of here,” Mel continued, “but you’ll have to trust me and work with me.”
“Have you ever done this before?” Jason asked.
“Not exactly, but I did get a Matchbox car out of the garbage disposal at my house. My son thought he’d never drive that car again, but it turned out fine. Just a few scratches on the fender.”
The kid didn’t respond, just hung there miserably while Mel used a wrench to remove more bolts from the turnstile. With the shields off, June could see the guts of the machine. A series of gears and levers. She was glad Mel knew what he was doing.
“We all have a few scratches on our fenders,” Mel continued, smiling at the boy. “Gives us character.”
June was sweating. The boy was sweating. Mel appeared perfectly calm.
One of the firefighters held an ice pack on Jason’s knee.
“It’ll cool us both off,” he said. “And make it easier to slide you out of here.”
This is my family’s park, June thought. I should know what to do. But she didn’t. She leaned close and spoke in Mel’s ear. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not at the moment. You can do the paperwork later.” He raised one eyebrow at her. She was so close she could see the tiny lines around his eyes from hours working outside in the sun. “Lots of paperwork,” he added.
“Thank you for knowing what to do,” June said quietly.
Mel moved his head and his hair brushed her cheek. “It’s my job,” he said.
He worked silently a few more minutes. Roller coasters, happy screaming and carousel music formed the background, but the loading platform at the Silver Streak was silent. Everyone was waiting for Mel to tell them their next move. June stepped aside and called Jack on her cell phone, giving him a quick overview and assuring him it was under control. She expected him to show up at any moment and was surprised when he didn’t, even after another ten minutes went by.
Jack was trusting her to handle this.
And she was trusting Mel.
June walked over to talk with Jason’s friends and the ride operators who were in a clump on the edge of the platform.
“I’m sure Jason will be okay,” she said. “We have our best maintenance man unlocking the turnstile and two firefighters standing by to help.”
Jason’s three friends looked relieved. The ride operators looked nervous.
“Did you see this happen?” June asked the girl whose name tag identified her as Jessica.
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll talk with you later.” She turned to the three friends. “I’m guessing you saw it happen also?”
They nodded. Their expressions were tight, body language rigid as if they were being questioned as accessories to a bank robbery.
“It’s not a crime to show off for your friends and hurt yourself,” June said. “At least I hope not. I just want you to write down what you saw so we have a written record. That’s all. We’ll work on that together later. Right now, getting Jason’s knee out of the turnstile is our number one priority.”
She patted the girl on the shoulder, smiled and returned to where Mel was working. She knelt next to him.
“Thanks for calling me your best maintenance man.”
“I thought it would inspire confidence,” she said. “It does for me.”
She touched his shoulder as she leaned close to view his progress, and heat burned her fingers through Mel’s blue cotton shirt.
“I’m going to release the spring and hope it doesn’t make this thing snap around,” Mel said.
“Is this going to hurt?” Jason asked.
“Not if we do it right,” Mel said.
One of the firefighters wedged his leg against the free arm of the turnstile to control the movement. Mel slowly released the spring while June held her breath. One look at Jason’s tortured face made her want to protect him, but all she could do was count on Mel.
The spring let go and the arm of the turnstile unlocked and moved, allowing the two firefighters to lift Jason free.
Although Mel’s expression remained the same, June noted the long slow breath he let out.
“There was a lot less pressure with the car in the garbage disposal,” he said to June as the firefighters placed Jason on a gurney. “Ross shed some tears, but I fixed that with ice cream.”
Maybe it was the incredible relief of freeing the guest from the turnstile without, she hoped, serious injury, but June felt a rush of...something...for Mel.
“Want to get some ice cream?” June asked. “I owe you, and I’ll buy.”
Mel laughed. “I’m on the clock.”
“Maybe later this afternoon? I’m going to meet this young man and his friends at First Aid and see what we need to do next. Starting with calling his parents, getting X-rays, and filling out reports. I may need your input on those reports.”
“So, it’s a working ice-cream date?”
June smiled. “It’s hot. Good ice-cream weather.”
Mel cocked his head and said, “I’ll meet you at Tosha’s at four thirty if I can bring a guest. If Ross finds out I had ice cream without him, it’ll take me weeks to earn back my super-dad status.”
* * *
“REMEMBER YOUR MANNERS, ROSS,” Mel said. “Please and thank you.”
“Can I get strawberry?” Ross asked.
“One scoop.”
“Only one?”
They walked up the beach path to enter the park by one of the side gates. Like his father, Ross was lanky, with sandy hair and blue eyes. He also had Mel’s easy smile and gait.
Instead of working until at least five o’clock as usual, Mel locked his big steel desk in the maintenance garage at a quarter after four and headed to the Lake Breeze Hotel to retrieve Ross from the employee day care center.
“We’re guests, and guests can’t be greedy and ask for seconds. Besides, I don’t want you to ruin your dinner. I’m making mac and cheese and dogs tonight. Your favorite.”
“Will Uncle Jack be there?”
Mel smiled. “I think he’s still working. His sister is buying us ice cream today.”
“Uncle Jack has a sister?”
“Two. You’ve met one of them a few times, Miss Evie, but this is the one you don’t know.”
“What should I call her?” Ross asked, swinging his dad’s arm as they stopped at the turnstile. Mel let go of Ross’s hand to dig his wallet out of his back pocket, but the white-haired lady at the beach gate waved him through. Summer employees might need proof of Mel’s employee status, but Janice had worked the beach gate for ten years, ever since she gave up schooling first graders in Bayside.
“Riding rides tonight, Mel?” she asked.
Mel shook his head. “Quick ice-cream stop on the way home.”
She smiled. “Good for you. The heck with ruining your dinner. Life is short.”
Ross smiled and waited until they were several steps away. “Dad,” he whispered. “That lady said life is short, but hasn’t she been alive a really long time?”
Mel chuckled. “I think that makes her an expert. And don’t say things like that when other people can hear.”
“I won’t. So what do I call her?”
“Her name’s Janice.”
“Not the old lady, the ice-cream lady.”
Mel hesitated. It wasn’t much use figuring out an official name for someone Ross would probably never get to know very well. Even though he spent most of his summer days at the Point, Ross wasn’t likely to cross paths with June.
“If she’s Uncle Jack’s sister, can I call her Aunt Jack?” Ross asked.
“Her first name is June,” Mel said, suppressing a laugh. “How about Miss June?”
Ross shrugged. “Okay.”
Mel held Ross’s hand as they passed Kiddieland and turned toward the front midway, where many of the food vendors filled both sides of the avenue. Guests stopped at Bernie’s Boardwalk Fries, Hank’s Hot Dogs, Aunt Augusta’s Midway Bakery and Tosha’s Homemade Ice Cream on their way into and out of the park. Aunt Augusta also had a location in the Wonderful West and the Lake Breeze Hotel so guests could get their doughnut and cookie fix wherever they were. Tosha had borrowed the idea and opened a second ice-cream stand on the beach this year.
Judging from the lines, all the vendors were doing brisk business. Mel hoped the steady crowds he’d seen so far would keep up all summer and help his friends get their amusement park out of financial trouble. Jack and Evie poured their souls into Starlight Point. And June? She poured her soul into whatever she was doing at the time. At least, she seemed that way to him.
This summer it was the live shows and theaters at Starlight Point. But it was only for the summer.
June was waiting for them, chatting with Tosha over the front counter of her ice cream stand while summer employees in cheerful hats and aprons worked the window.
“Here they are,” June said as Mel and Ross came up.
Tosha grinned broadly. “There’s my best customer,” she said, pointing to Ross. “Are you having strawberry?” she asked.
Ross nodded.
Mel cocked his head and focused on Tosha. “The kids love it when you bring them ice cream, but you should let me pay you. It has to be putting you into bankruptcy.”
She laughed. “Not at all. I take ice cream to the day care because I love it. And Jack Hamilton always pays.”
“My brother?” June asked. Both eyebrows raised, she laughed out loud. “I had no idea he was such a softy.”
“He has a serious sweet tooth, so he understands,” Tosha said. “I also think it’s his way to get back in my good graces after last summer’s squabble over the vendor contracts.” She shrugged. “Water under the bridge. What’s the special occasion today?”
“I owe Mel. He was a real hero when a guest got his leg stuck in the turnstile at the Silver Streak,” June said.
Mel’s neck burned under the collar of his work shirt. Taking apart a turnstile did not exactly make him a hero. Ross squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “You’re a hero,” his son said.
“I was just doing my job and Miss June is just being nice,” Mel said.
June knelt so she was eye level with Ross. “I’m June Hamilton,” she said. “I’ve heard nice things about you but we’ve never met.”
Ross stuck out his hand as his father had taught him. “I’m Ross. I’m five and I can write my name.”
June smiled. “I can write my name, too. And it has four letters just like yours. Did I hear you like strawberry ice cream?”
Ross nodded.
“Then that’s what I’m having.” She glanced up at Mel. “How about your dad? What’s his favorite kind of ice cream?”
“Chocolate chip. He eats chocolate chips right out of the bag when we go to Grandma’s house,” Ross said. “Grandma doesn’t know.”
Mel wanted to crawl into a crack in the concrete. He’d have to talk with Ross about revealing personal information to relative strangers.
June stood up and smiled at Mel. “I eat frosting out of the can when I’m truly desperate,” she said.
“What makes you desperate?” Mel asked. He had no idea why he’d asked and was afraid of the answer.
June’s smile faded and she drew her eyebrows together.
“No idea where you put all those calories,” Tosha said. “Skinny as you are, you must dance them all off. Wait here and I’ll make up three cones for you so you can skip the line.”
Thank you, Tosha, for changing the subject.
They collected their cones and sat at an umbrella-covered table. June filled Mel in on what happened with Jason the turnstile jumper. After a precautionary trip to the emergency room in Bayside, she explained, it appeared there was no serious damage. Some swelling and tenderness, but he was fifteen and he’d heal fast.
“Do you think his parents will sue?” Mel asked.
June shrugged. “They didn’t seem inclined, but you never know. I hope not. I don’t think we were negligent, and we certainly did everything we could to help him. Thanks to you.”
“My grandparents have a cat,” Ross said.
Mel rolled his eyes at June.
“I like cats,” June said. “Back in New York City, where I usually live, I got to be in a show where we all pretended to be cats.”
Ross frowned. “Don’t you live here?”
“No. My work is in New York City.”
Ross nodded. “Like my mom. Her work is somewhere else in some city. We never see her.” He balled up his napkin and headed for the nearest trash can.
“Sorry,” June said.
“Not your fault,” Mel replied. “Facts of life.”
Ross came back and slid onto his seat next to Mel.
“Dad is making mac and cheese with little hot dogs cut up in it for dinner,” he announced.
June smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”
“He’ll make some for you if you come over,” Ross said.
June met Mel’s eyes and held them for a moment. Mel broke the contact and ruffled his son’s hair. “We should get going, buddy.”
Ross bounced up and Mel stood. “Thank you for the ice cream.”
“My pleasure. It was nice meeting you, Ross.”
Ross nodded vigorously, apparently out of polite conversation.
“See you tomorrow,” Mel said. He took Ross’s hand and headed for the marina gate, where his pickup was parked with the other year-round employees’ vehicles. Maybe it was the ice cream, but something sat like a cold lump in his gut.
“She’s nice,” Ross said, swinging his dad’s arm as they walked to the truck. “And she likes strawberry ice cream just like me.”
Mel helped Ross get his seat belt buckled around his booster seat.
“We should get a cat,” Ross said.
Mel sighed and climbed in the driver’s seat, wishing somebody else was cooking dinner for once.
No one ever signs up to be a single parent.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_2131729e-9f04-5cb6-aa8a-5551c98d646b)
JUNE UNLOCKED THE doors at the Starlight Saloon Theater and swung through them. Dust swirled in the shafts of early-morning light that came through the windows.
There’s no way this theater will be ready in less than a week. Her performers, yes. The costumes, probably. The venue? Sigh.
She heard a truck pull up in front. The park wasn’t open until ten, but trucks drove all over the midways ferrying supplies in the early morning. June stepped outside. It was the delivery she’d hoped for.
Mel Preston, in maintenance blue as always, unloaded rollers, brushes, seven gallons of paint and two short ladders onto the porch of the Western-themed saloon and dance hall.
“Good luck,” he told Gerry, a summer worker dressed like Mel but probably just old enough to drive. “I think you’re going to earn your minimum wage today.”
“I’ll have help, right?”
“June Hamilton’s in charge of this project,” Mel said, gesturing to June, who was already picking up cans to haul inside. “You’ll have to ask her.”
June paused and smiled at Mel. “You could stick around and help us if you want.”
Mel raised an eyebrow and leaned against the side of his blue maintenance pickup with Starlight Point in white letters on the door. “Cleaning and painting this old barn is not on my list for the day.”
“I could offer ice cream.”
He shook his head, chuckling.
June crossed her arms over her chest. “You’d probably nail the doors shut if it were up to you.”
He nodded. “It would be the easiest thing to do considering I have to finish running about ten miles of new wire in there.”
“So that’s today’s plan? Should we wait up?”
Mel laughed. “That’s a three-day plan for a team of electricians.”
Was it really a three-day job? This theater was scheduled to open on Saturday. And today was already Monday. Maybe she should have stayed in New York for the summer.
“Better get started, then,” she said cheerfully, hoping there was a chance Mel was exaggerating.
Mel reached through the open window of his truck and picked up a clipboard from the seat. He flipped through several papers, studying them. June suspected he was stalling for some reason.
He finally tossed the clipboard back through the window. “The wiring supplies have been delivered. I’ll have to grab them from the warehouse, but I might as well start today. Having Gerry here is good because he can give me a hand pulling wire if I need it.” Mel smiled at Gerry. “You might end up learning to be an electrician. That’s how it happened to me.”
When Mel drove off, June headed inside to tackle the kitchen area of the saloon. Getting a drink—or anything—from this kitchen would involve a major flirtation with a health-code violation. No wonder Jack and Evie had chosen to close the kitchen last year. Scrubbing and rewiring might earn a passing grade from the health department later in the week, but it would not be easy.
Nothing was easy.
Mel claimed he had a serious wiring job, but she had work in spades, too. Ramping up the sleepier part of the park with her high energy steampunk show was just what the Point needed. People would come for the show, and then stop by the food stands, games and shops before boarding the train or walking up the trail to the front midway. A great return on investment in the Wonderful West would make Evie and Jack happy and prove the value of quality live theater.
Not that they really doubted the need for live shows and the power of their draw. But June felt like they doubted her. They never said it out loud, but they treated her like a hummingbird they’d caught in a net.
“What do I do first?” Gerry asked.
June turned to consider the saloon. She walked to the control panel behind the bar and flipped a master switch. Lights—courtesy of Mel’s quick repair job last week—buzzed on throughout the room and over the stage.
“Lights. Awesome,” Gerry said. “I was afraid we’d be painting in the dark.”
“It’s old, but not totally in the Dark Ages,” June said. “I heard you had some painting experience. That’s why I asked for you. I could sure use the help.”
“Yep. Painted houses with my dad the last two summers. He does interior painting in the winter, exterior in the summer.”
“He’ll miss having your help this year.”
Gerry nodded and looked at his shoes. “I know. But I just didn’t want to work in the family business another year. Thought it would be fun to branch out a little.”
June smiled. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
* * *
MEL ROLLED HIS shoulders and ran a hand through his dusty, disheveled hair. The good news was that someone—at some time—had run some new conduit in the Starlight Saloon. That meant he could tie into it and not spend the next three days trying to battle an ancient wiring schematic. Making this theater usable for the summer wouldn’t be the major undertaking he’d expected. Throughout the day, Gerry had pitched in between painting walls and muscling junk into an outside Dumpster.
The bad news was that the job was only three-quarters done but he needed food and a shower too bad to continue.
At seven o’clock, he gave up and loaded his tools in his maintenance truck. He had to put in an hour’s worth of work at the garage and then it would be lights out. Although it wasn’t his parents’ usual day to keep Ross, he’d called them hours ago to pick up the boy from day care at the Lake Breeze. They were used to such calls during the operating season. Ross was probably curled up on his grandpa’s lap right now watching television. Reruns of old black-and-white TV shows. Lucky kid. If Mel got out of here before it was very late, he’d pick up Ross so he could sleep in his own bed.
The hour in the maintenance garage stretched to three, courtesy of a mess made by one of the new hires and an emergency call to a food stand with no power. The food stand was in the Wonderful West, which had just closed. Employees and security guards were sweeping the guests toward the front, so Mel drove his personal truck along the vacant midway, hoping to make a quick fix and head straight home.
The restaurant’s power problem was an easy fix, a tripped breaker. Mel headed for his truck, pajamas and bed becoming more inviting by the moment. He could almost taste the leftover pot roast his mother would have waiting in plastic containers.
However, as he drove past the Starlight Saloon, he noticed a light on inside. He stopped and got out of his truck, cursing whoever left the light on—probably June.
It was definitely June. Because she was still there, alone on stage. On her knees working her way across the stage with black matte paint. Mel paused in the doorway, watching as she rolled paint onto the floor.
“You’ve put in a long day,” he said quietly, afraid to startle her and end up wearing a bucket of paint.
June laid the roller in the tray and sat back. “You have, too,” she said. She used the inside of her elbow to brush stray hair off her cheek. “I thought you were headed for food and a shower three hours ago.”
“I was, but I had to do some cleanup in the maintenance garage. Where’s Gerry?”
“I sent him home after you left. He worked hard today, and he seemed happy to leave.” June smiled. “I think maybe he had a date. Or he was starving.”
“When I was his age, I was always starving,” Mel said.
“And did you always have a date?”
He laughed. “With a cheeseburger.” He fumbled in his front shirt pocket. “Speaking of which...”
“Don’t tell me you have a cheeseburger in there.”
“Nope. Mini doughnuts from the vending machine. I can’t bring you one, but I can toss it.”
“Risky. I’m not a great catch.”
Mel grinned. “Lucky for you, I’m a good throw. Can’t miss.”
He fished a mini doughnut from the half-eaten package and tossed it carefully to June. She caught it left-handed and popped it in her mouth.
“Impressive,” Mel said.
“Had to,” she mumbled, her mouth full of doughnut. “My right hand is full of paint.”
“I’ve never doubted your talent.”
June chewed slowly, keeping her eyes on Mel. “But you’ve doubted other things about me,” she finally said.
He shook his head. “No.”
She resumed painting, only a quarter of the stage to go before she backed out a stage left door. Mel pulled up a chair at one of the many tables in the saloon. Unlike the big theater on the front midway, this one didn’t have orderly rows of pull-down seats numbering in the hundreds. Instead, high-top tables were surrounded by four chairs and scattered around the floor, each of them with a view of the raised stage. The room had an old dance hall feel, like in a Western movie.
“Think I need an audience for this?” she asked.
“Just keeping you company and waiting to offer you a ride home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, her tone implying he was not unwelcome.
“I’d like to help paint, but there’s only room for one in that pattern you’ve got going. Wish I had a cold beer in my front pocket I could toss you next.”
She laughed. “Now, that would be risky. Either I’d miss and splatter it everywhere, or I’d catch it and not give a darn if I finished this job tonight.”
“Could finish it tomorrow,” Mel suggested.
June shook her head, never slowing with her roller. “My big plan is to give this all night to dry so we can walk on it tomorrow—at least a little bit—as we continue bringing this stage up-to-date. I ordered some big props and they’ll be in tomorrow or the next day, and I assume you don’t want to store them in Receiving or Maintenance.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Well, when you’re one-third owner of a struggling amusement park, you have to use your head.” She glanced up and grinned. “Otherwise you’ll have your back against a wall.”
“You’ll probably be glad when you get to the wall—then you can go home.”
“Almost there,” she said.
“You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow after kneeling all this time,” Mel observed.
She glanced up sharply. “What do you mean?” Her tone was almost confrontational.
“I just mean a job like that is a knee killer,” he said. “I pawn off those jobs on the young guys.”
Her shoulders relaxed and Mel could tell, even from across the room, her expression did, too.
“Oh,” she said. “I see what you mean.”
“You’ve got talent for renovation projects,” Mel continued, filling in the silence as June painted. “Good ideas. A real eye for design. If you ever give up performing, we could put you to work in the maintenance department.”

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