Under the Boardwalk

by Amie Denman

  “But pink doesn’t show up very well on a cake.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  Gus rolled her eyes. “Watch me. I’ll do this sample cake. Step by step.”

  She squeezed a row of icing around the sides of the cake, spinning it expertly on a turntable. Then she iced the top, using the edge of an offset spatula to smooth the icing. She spun and scraped until an even coat of perfect white covered the cake like an overnight snowfall. It took her less than two minutes. Jack watched with great attention the whole time.

  “Your turn,” she said, sliding her cake off the turntable and shoving it toward him.

  He lifted his cake, setting it on the turntable as if it were wired for detonation. Then he picked up the bag of icing and started to squeeze. Icing oozed out the top of the bag and over his hands, plopping onto the counter.

  “You forgot to twist it closed and hold it. You do that with one hand and turn the cake with the other,” she said, smiling. “Piece of cake. Easy as pie. Like stealing candy from a baby.”

  Jack groaned.

  “I’ve got plenty of metaphors involving sweets. Goes with the job,” Gus explained. “Also, I went to culinary school.”

  Jack scooped up icing and put it back in the bag.

  “Did you go to how-to-run-an-amusement-park school?” she asked.

  “I wish I had.”

  His hands were a sticky mess and icing covered his apron and the counter. Gus took a deep breath and glanced at the clock. Time was getting short.

  “Wash your hands and try again,” she said. “I’ll help.”

  She guided him, laying her fingers gently over his, warm skin under the pads of her fingertips. She stood within the circle of his arms, directing the pastry bag and spinning the turntable. His scent—soap and aftershave— enclosed her.

  “That’s good,” she said quickly, slipping out from the half circle of his arms. “Now just smooth it out.”

  “Easier said than done,” he muttered. The distance between them was so small she could see the details of his brown eyes, his lashes, one little silver hair mixed with the dark brown at his temple.

  “You can handle this,” she whispered. She hoped Jack didn’t realize she was speaking to herself as much as to him.

  He leaned closer. Gus heard music. Music? Someone had started the carousel on the midway. She jerked back.

  “One hour until opening,” Jack said. “We always start it early. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing to worry about?” She shoved him back two feet. “You’ve obviously never worked in a bakery. I’m out of time and you have to go.”

  Jack looked floored.

  “Gus, I think you know how I...how much I...”

  She held up both hands, afraid she didn’t have the strength for what he was about to say. “No time, Jack.”

  His mouth twisted to the side, a look of concentration on his face. “Wait. I have to finish my cake.”

  “You’ll have to prove your cake skills some other time.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “It’s not about proving myself,” he said. “I really wanted to...” He huffed out an angry breath and tried to untie the apron’s knot behind his back. Jack fought the unseen tie, his shoulders working and head twisted unnaturally.

  Gus let him struggle as a good thirty seconds counted off on the clock behind his head. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and nose, killing her composure. She couldn’t help herself. She giggled then lost control, bursting into laughter.

  “Stop it. Not funny. And if you make me laugh, I sure won’t be able to get out of this stupid apron.”

  “It looks nice on you.”

  He stopped struggling and spread his arms, grinning and flexing his muscles. “You like it?”

  Gus willed herself to be cool. “Turn around,” she said. “I want you out of my apron and out of my shop.”

  “Technically it’s my shop.”

  “But I’ve paid good money to lease it,” she said. “Twenty thousand and twenty percent.” She was tempted to write that on his mother’s cake. Not that she would. Birthday cake was a powerful tool, not to be unleashed unless you really meant business. Besides, she wondered if his mother knew anything about the contract changes. She suspected Evie knew but was staying out of it.

  “What about my mother’s birthday cake?”

  “I’ll make one this afternoon when it slows down here,” she said, loosening the knot behind him. “You can pick it up later. You can even lie and say you made it.”

  “I don’t lie,” he said, turning to face her now that the apron hung loose.

  Gus scrunched her lips. “You don’t? Good to know. In that case, I have a question for you. Why did you void your father’s verbal contracts with all the vendors and jack up our rates for the summer?”

  Jack’s lips thinned into a straight line, all humor gone from his face and eyes. Gus wondered if she’d gone too far with that one.

  He pulled the apron over his head, stalked over to the wall and hung it up where he’d found it. He rolled down his sleeves and buttoned his cuffs with deliberate movements. He pulled his suit jacket on, his back to her. Then his foot was out the door, his shoulders square.

  Crap. This was no way to start the day. Today of all days.

  “Jack,” she said.

  He paused and half turned in her direction. She doubted he could see her clearly now that he was in the sunny break area out back.

  “Happy birthday.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE EARLY AFTERNOON was quiet. Gus wiped the counter, took inventory, planned for the big Saturday crowd and enjoyed a moment of peace to watch the passersby on the sunny midway.

  She stood, elbows on the counter, lost in thought, when a woman whose eyes were familiar somehow faced her. The woman’s glance dropped to Gus’s name tag.

  “I thought that must be you,” she said, “even before I read your name tag.”

  Gus took an instant liking to the tall, graceful woman. “I’ll go first. Based on your looks, I think you must be June Hamilton. Also, I heard you were here for the weekend.”

  June stuck out her hand. “I’m sure you must be Augusta Murphy based on the fact that you are the beautiful woman who runs the Midway Bakery.”

  Gus took her hand. “Has your sister, Evie, been talking about me?”

  “A little, but it was Jack who provided details. He sent me to fetch Mom’s birthday cake. I’m glad to dodge the bullet and not have to make one myself.”

  “Your sister has gotten really good at baking. You could learn, too, if you get a summer job here. Your mom’s idea.”

  “The STRIPE,” June said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’ll grab the cake,” Gus said. “I finished it a while ago and boxed it up.”

  By the time Gus plucked the cake from the fridge and got back to the front, Evie had joined her sister.

  “Weird to be on this side of the counter,” Evie said.

  The sisters didn’t look exactly alike, but their relationship to each other, and Jack, was obvious. June’s hair was a much lighter shade of brown than Jack’s, but her eyes were copies of his. In coloring, June was a stepping-stone from her older brother to her younger sister, Evie, whose blond hair and green eyes set her apart.

  Lucky Jack, to have two sisters he seemed close to. And his parents nearby all his life until the recent loss of his father. Maybe he thought he had it rough because he had a big amusement park to run and family to answer to, but Gus would take those problems any day. She’d never known the sense of belonging she was starting to feel at Starlight Point.

  “I’m trying to drag Evie on the new ride,” June said. “But no luck.”

  Evie picked up the cake. “I think we should be talking busi
ness.”

  “Are you two planning to steal your brother’s power?” Gus asked.

  “Ha,” June said. “Who’d want it? Too much stress.”

  “We’re having the final meeting with the estate lawyer while June’s home,” Evie said. “Signing papers and transferring ownership—officially—from our parents to the three of us.”

  “Lucky us,” June grumbled.

  Evie frowned at her sister and then turned a half smile on Gus. “Thanks for making Mom’s birthday cake. Jack told us what happened when he came in earlier.”

  Heat colored Augusta’s cheeks. “He did?”

  “Said you ran out of time. I told him he was a ninny for thinking you’d be free in the morning. He’s obviously never been behind the counter of a bakery,” Evie said.

  “Men,” June added.

  * * *

  ALTHOUGH GUS WORKED six days a week at Starlight Point, she spent Mondays at her downtown bakery in Bayside. It was the slowest day at the Point, but a surprisingly busy day in the city.

  For the past three weeks, she’d juggled her time, materials and employees like a circus clown. Every night, she climbed into bed so exhausted she wondered how she’d make it all summer with this routine.

  It was almost seven o’clock now, the evening fading and streaks of warm colors over the bay beginning to suggest the sunset. Gus was out for dinner with some of the vendors—their weekly meals were becoming a summer tradition—and Aunt Augusta had joined the group tonight.

  “I love these paninis,” Aunt Augusta said. “We used to call them grilled cheese, but panini sounds like something really special.”

  “It’s the bread,” Gus said. “Wish I’d thought of serving sandwiches and chips by the water. The Dockside Grille is doing a heck of a business. Even on a Monday night.”

  Tosha scrunched her lips and glanced at Gus before taking a bite and chewing slowly. “Just how many irons in the fire you think you can handle?”

  “One or two less than I already have.”

  “I was afraid of that, but it’s wonderful to have you as a vendor this year,” Tosha said. “Your pastries are delicious, and you’re much better company than the baker who retired last year.”

  “Thanks,” Gus said. Her cheeks warmed and she smiled.

  “Maybe I could add some different sandwiches to my menu—like these paninis,” Hank said. “But I’m doing all right as it is.”

  Tosha chatted with Augusta’s aunt while the three men talked about previous summers at the Point and how this one compared. Gus listened, the chatter driving away her loneliness. Most nights she ate alone, microwaving a bowl of soup she was usually too tired to eat anyway. Her aunt had invited her to live in her small ranch house on a back street in Bayside, but Gus wanted to establish herself permanently. And that meant committing to her own place, lonely or not.

  Spending time with the vendors showed Gus what it was like to belong somewhere, to share a past and possibly a future with people who weren’t going anywhere. Just last week the vendors hosted a group meeting with a supplier who could save them all money if they put their orders together for next year. She hoped there would be a next year, for all of them.

  Hank was in the middle of a story about a hot-dog-eating contest staged at Starlight Point years before. Judging from their expressions, she could guess the other vendors had heard this story a dozen times. But they were friends; they listened anyway.

  “We could catch the seven-thirty ferry back,” Bernie suggested when the story ended. Nearly everyone had finished their food except Gus and her aunt. They’d arrived late after closing her bakery just up the hill. “I want to check the day’s receipts and see how my summer hire is handling the shop while I’m out partying.”

  “I could head back,” Hank agreed.

  Tosha squeezed Gus’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” she said.

  The vendors walked over to the ferry dock and lined up for the ten-minute ride to the marina at Starlight Point. Like Augusta, they kept a close eye on their cash drawers and their livelihood. But Gus was lucky to have Evie—she could trust her with the job of tallying up the day’s receipts.

  “Got some nice friends,” Aunt Augusta commented. She reached across the table and laid her hand on Gus’s. “Maybe I ought to fuss over you, tell you to get a lot more sleep and start having a lot more fun. Starlight Point has a certain reputation.”

  “For what?”

  “You know. Romance. Can’t tell you how many couples here in Bayside met at the Point.”

  “I think the vendors are all taken,” Gus said.

  “I don’t mean them.”

  Gus sighed, dipping a kettle chip in ketchup and looking over the water. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  A yellow kayak caught her attention, slicing rapidly across the bay as though the rower was trying to outrun a sea monster. Arms flashed, wielding a paddle in a rhythmic motion that suggested years of practice. Although he was halfway across the bay, Gus knew it was Jack. She’d seen his kayak several times now—and not many people kayaked the bay anyway. Sailboats and powerboats were far more common.

  “Looks like he’s heading our way,” Aunt Augusta said.

  “Who?”

  “You know who I mean. I see him out there rowing a lot. Virginia says he has too much stress and that’s his way of working it off. I think there are more fun ways to blow off nerves.”

  “Seems to me like he’s got the ideal job.”

  Aunt Augusta raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to one side. “Think so? You’re losing sleep running three bakeries. Imagine what it’d be like to run the whole show.”

  Gus watched Jack’s kayak slide along the dock. He pulled a small rope from under his feet and looped it around a cleat.

  “You heard any rumblings about Starlight Point selling out to the big outfit, Consolidated Amusement Parks?”

  Gus’s attention snapped from Jack’s kayak to her aunt. “No. But it feels like something’s up. The other vendors and I have been trying to put the pieces together. Why are you asking about Consolidated?”

  “They were in the shop this week, wearing their company polo shirts. Made a lot of noise about the Starlight Point cookies. Asked a lot of questions.”

  “I wonder,” Gus said.

  A buyout from a corporation that already owned at least ten amusement parks nationwide could mean she was looking at her one and only season as a vendor at Starlight Point. And this might be Jack’s one and only season as the man in charge.

  “Jack!” Aunt Augusta called as he hoisted himself onto the dock. “Come and join us.”

  He held his hand over his eyes and looked their direction.

  “What are you doing?” Gus whispered. She glanced at the ferry dock. Her friends were in line, waiting to get on the ferry that was just tying up. They would have a clear view of Jack if he came to the table.

  “Inviting some entertainment over. Nothing strange about it,” she whispered as Jack headed their way, his long legs quickly closing the distance. “He’s the son of one of my best friends. I’m practically his aunt.”

  “You’re my aunt,” Gus said. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  Gus shot her aunt a look, then nodded at Jack. He wore a short wet suit, but plenty of long leg showed beneath it.

  She turned and watched her friends get on the boat. Even in the fading light, she saw Bernie nudge Tosha and point toward the table where Jack stood over Gus and her aunt.

  “Would you mind if I grabbed some food and joined you? I don’t think I’ve eaten since Friday. At least not that I remember.”

  “Of course not. Go ahead,” Gus said quickly. She hoped her friends would see Jack leave the table and assume she’d told him to go away. She hated feeling
as though she had to choose sides.

  He walked toward the wide awning with Dockside Grille painted on it. Aunt Augusta patted her niece’s hand. “See how easy that was?”

  “What?”

  “Getting a dinner date with a sexy man.”

  “It’s not a date.”

  “It will be as soon as I make an excuse and leave you two alone.”

  “Don’t you dare. You invited him, you can help entertain him.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Jack and I don’t exactly have a fun relationship.”

  “Why not? Don’t tell me you’ve still got your panties in a twist over the contract. You’re making money anyway.”

  “That doesn’t justify going back on his father’s deal,” Gus said. “And I have to consider the other lease vendors. They’ve made me a part of their family, and they asked me to speak for them. Not that I did a very good job of that. They probably think I’m a traitor.”

  “Maybe his father’s deal was more complicated than you know. Probably got a lot more debt than you do. Maybe that’s why Consolidated is nosing around,” Aunt Augusta said.

  Jack strode toward them with a bottle of soda in his hand. Gus rearranged her kettle chips on the red-and-white parchment square in her basket.

  Instead of sitting across the table with her aunt, he sat right next to Gus. The metal feet of his chair squawked on the concrete as he sat down and scooched the chair closer to her.

  “Going to steal some of your chips while I wait for mine,” he said. “I’m starving.”

  “Be my guest.”

  He leaned even closer and reached in front of her, taking a chip and dipping it in her small pool of ketchup.

  “The kitchen’s backed up. Guess they didn’t expect such a crowd on a Monday night. Said it might be twenty minutes or so.”

  Jack alternated between Gus’s chips and his drink for a minute. Gus alternated between giving her aunt loaded looks and watching Jack as he ate. The ferry was barely within sight now, so she could finally relax.