by Amie Denman
“Stay right there.”
Jack debated about his kayak. Even though he owned the place, he couldn’t really haul the dripping yellow boat through the lobby. He settled for leaving it with the summer employee in the rental shop.
“What name do you want to put on it?” the teenager asked. “So we know who it belongs to.”
Jack grinned, not used to being anonymous at Starlight Point. He probably didn’t look much like the owner in his wet T-shirt and swim trunks. No shoes.
“Jack Hamilton,” he said.
“Okay,” the boy replied. “I’ll write it—”
Realization dawned and the teenager looked right at Jack for the first time. “Sorry, Mr. Hamilton. I didn’t recognize... I mean I didn’t realize—”
“It’s all right.” Jack smiled at the kid and glanced at his name tag. “Mark, right? I’ll be sure to ask for you when I come back later.”
“I’ll take good care of it.”
“Thanks.”
“How about a towel?” the teen offered, holding out one of the navy-and-white-striped rental towels.
“Smart idea.”
The beach door of the hotel lobby opened before Jack could grab the handle. A uniformed summer employee held one half of the double door and looked him over skeptically. “Sorry, sir, you have to wear shoes inside the hotel.”
“I don’t have any shoes.”
“Perhaps someone from your room could bring some down? I’d be glad to make a call for you.” The girl was pleasant, but determined.
Now that his clothes were drenched, gooseflesh covered his exposed skin. He didn’t want to stand outside his hotel and argue with one of his own employees.
He didn’t have to. Mel Preston whipped open the other door and winked at the girl with a red name tag identifying her as Kris.
“Don’t worry, Kris, he’s with me. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”
The girl looked doubtful. “I’m supposed to enforce the shirt-and-shoes rule. I don’t want to lose my job.”
Gus and Evie showed up and stood just inside the door, watching the minor spectacle. Wind blew rain into the lobby.
“I’ll take the fall,” Mel assured the girl. His black name tag meant that he outranked her in the Starlight Point pecking order by several levels. Black tags were year-round employees, mostly management.
“Thanks,” Kris said. She smiled at Jack. “Welcome to the Lake Breeze Hotel. We hope you enjoy your stay.”
Jack dug his sandwich-bagged wallet out of his pocket. He gave Kris a five-dollar tip and said, “Nice job, young lady. I’ll tell your supervisor you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”
“Come in my bakery,” Gus said. “You must be freezing. What happened?”
Jack followed her, flanked by Evie and Mel, and accepted the three small towels Gus pulled from a drawer behind the counter. He wrapped the beach towel around him and used the smaller ones to dry his head and face.
“Nothing really happened. I went for a spin with my kayak, didn’t notice the storm coming up—” lightning flashed outside the windows and thunder rattled the old hotel “—and here I am.”
“Where’s your kayak?” Evie asked.
“Left it with a kid named Mark who works the beach shack. He’ll take good care of it. The important thing,” Jack said, sitting in one of the metal chairs in the bakery seating area, “is that I figured out what to do with the Sea Devil.”
Mel glanced around, noted there was no one in the shop and said, “You did?”
“Uh-huh. Soon as I saw it from the water, it was obvious.”
“Hit me,” Mel said.
Gus placed a cup of hot coffee and a piece of warm apple pie in front of Jack. He grabbed her hand for a second before she could pull it away. “Thank you.”
“That’ll be five dollars,” she said, smiling broadly.
“Can I have a loan? I gave my last dime to the girl who wouldn’t let me in my own hotel.”
“I know,” Gus said.
“The solution,” Mel prompted. “I want to hear your brilliant idea.”
“Windbreak. How hard would it be to put up a wall on the lower part of that hill so the train doesn’t have time to slow down before it’s vertical?”
Mel sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “Son of a chipmunk,” he said. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
“That’s my big brother,” Evie said. “Not just a pretty face.”
“Daylight tomorrow, I’ll get a crew out there to look at it. The ride designers are supposed to get here either tomorrow or Sunday, so we can run it past them, too.”
Jack leaned back and half turned to face Evie, who joined him at the table, and Mel. Gus hovered behind the counter.
“Did you see the article in Coaster Times?” Jack asked his sister.
“Yep. Three and a half screams.”
“Can you believe that? I think the Sea Devil is a solid four.”
“The article was great and that’s a ringing endorsement. If that doesn’t make you happy,” Evie said, “I don’t know what you want.”
Jack watched Gus as she arranged pastries in the glass case. He folded the towels methodically, never taking his eyes off her. “I guess I want to have my cake and eat it, too,” he said quietly.
“Speaking of cake,” Evie said cheerfully. “STRIPE starts Monday. And since it’s voluntary, the audience will be a willing one.”
“People wouldn’t believe me when I told them it’s not mandatory,” Jack commented. “I had Dorothea add it to the weekly employee bulletin, and she still got a lot of calls from returning employees.”
“The vendors thought I was making it up,” Gus added. “But I told them it’s true. I only have to teach people who want to learn.”
“Who wouldn’t want to learn that?” Evie asked.
Mel snorted.
Evie grinned and shook her head at Mel. “Your son must have a fifth birthday coming up this summer. Maybe a cake made by his dad would be nice.”
“Of course,” Mel said with only a hint of a smile. “I’m signed up for the first night of lessons.”
“Are you serious?” Jack asked.
Mel shrugged. “Since his mother pretty much skipped town, I guess it’s a good thing I’m going to learn to make him a cake. Which reminds me. I was headed for the new day-care center to pick him up when you called, Jack. Can I trust your sister here to get you home safe? That is,” he said, inclining his head slightly toward Gus, “unless you get a better offer.”
“I’ll manage. I want to stick around anyway and talk to Gus about a favor.”
“Begging her for a date?” Mel whispered.
“Think I’d have a chance?”
“Maybe if you didn’t smell like the lake. Good luck,” Mel said, slipping out the bakery door.
“Good luck with what?” Gus asked, approaching his table.
“Everything.”
“You should try making your own luck.”
“I think there’s a recipe for that somewhere,” Evie said. “I’ll go look for it.” She hustled to the back room of the hotel bakery.
“That was the worst excuse imaginable for leaving us alone,” Gus said, pulling out a chair across from Jack.
“It worked, though. Augusta, there’s something important I want to ask you.”
“Sounds serious. Using my big-girl name and all.” Gus sat on the edge of the chair, her legs turned to the side as if she was leaving herself an escape route.
Jack hesitated, wanting to reach across the table and close his hand over hers. Would she pull back? Whenever he looked at her, a spatula scooped up his heart and flipped it over in his chest.
“I need your help. I mean, Starli
ght Point needs your help.”
“Cookie shortage somewhere?” she asked.
“Shortage of good PR. See today’s paper?”
Gus nodded.
“I’m hoping you’ll agree to help with a positive PR story.”
“About the vendors? They,” she said pointedly, “are an amazing group of people. Very dedicated to Starlight Point.”
Jack’s stomach sunk. “Uh, no. I mean, yes. I know they are. But the PR article we’re thinking of—” he cleared his throat “—is about the STRIPE.”
“Oh.” Gus sat back, looking at Jack in silence.
“It was...uh...Evie’s idea. Everyone likes cake. The STRIPE has a long history, so it might make a great story. And you’re so beautiful you’d make us all look good.” His words rushed out in one breath. He waited, eyes locked on hers. Finally, she smiled broadly, her eyes alight.
“Thank you.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” He reached across and covered her hand with his. She didn’t pull away.
“Yes,” she said, “but it has to be about the employees learning to make cakes, not about me. It takes more than one person to make this place a success.”
“I know,” Jack said. “I couldn’t do it without you.” When he said the words, he realized their truth. Slowly, he was starting to believe he didn’t have to carry the burden of Starlight Point and its problems solely on his own shoulders. But could he risk exposing the company’s secrets?
“And the other vendors,” she suggested. “You need them, too.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“They’d like to hear that.”
“Maybe,” he said, grinning. “But I’m not telling Hank and Bernie they’re beautiful.”
“You never know, they might like it,” she said.
“Did you?”
“Of course, but the other vendors would say you’re just flattering me so I’ll do the article for the paper.”
He blew out a breath. “You know that’s not true.”
The spatula flipped his heart over and squashed it flat, leaving dull anger and frustration oozing into his chest. He breathed in fresh-baked cookies and sweet frosting. Before the summer was over, the woman across from him was going to torture him to death.
Gus withdrew her hand and stood. “Maybe I only believe what I see. You spy on my meeting with the vendors and then ask me to dinner, you slam the door on my contract but then want me to be a ray of sunshine for the papers. I know it’s your first year running this place, but you’ve got a long way to go.”
She skirted the edge of the counter and disappeared into the back room, leaving Jack colder than the wet towels still draped over his shoulders. He stared at the wood grain of the table under his empty hand.
Evie appeared by his side. “Guess I’m taking you home, big brother. I’m parked behind the hotel, but you’re not allowed to drip all over my car. You can sit on the blanket in the backseat where Betty usually rides.”
Jack followed his sister through the hotel lobby in his bare feet. The incredible high of figuring out how to fix the Sea Devil had sunk to an abysmal depth. Gus had tied him to an anchor and tossed him overboard, and the worst part was that she was right. He did have a lot to learn.
Worse yet, by the time he got to his lonely house, he was going to smell like a wet dog.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“YOU’RE PAYING ME overtime, right?” Liz asked.
“And offering a sizable bribe,” Gus said.
The two of them—along with her better summer employees and volunteers from her downtown shop—faced a group of two hundred employees assembled in the Starlight Point ballroom, ready and waiting to learn to decorate a cake.
“How the heck is this going to work?” Liz asked. “There are so many of them and only ten of us.”
“Here’s my plan,” Gus said. “I’ll do one demonstration up front. There’s a camera and a big screen. Then we’ll divide up. We each take twenty students to a table—Evie spent all day getting supplies at each one.”
“They’re not baking the actual cakes, right?” Aunt Augusta asked.
“Nope. We’re providing Styrofoam circles for them to practice on.”
“Whew,” Liz said.
“Yep,” Gus agreed. “Mrs. Hamilton took some convincing, not wanting to skimp on the details, but I finally prevailed. They can bake a real cake, but they don’t have to.”
“Mom’s tough about the STRIPE,” Evie said. “Always has been. The only time she had to surrender and change course was the notorious water-skiing year.”
Liz laughed out loud. “What happened?”
“Use your imagination. Despite an iron will and a whole lot of faith in humanity, my mother discovered that it’s not possible to teach everyone how to water-ski.” After a moment, Evie added, “I’m glad she took the STRIPE requirement out of the contract, but I’m happy the program is still here. It’s a tradition. And I think it makes her feel useful. Dad never included her much in running the park.”
Virginia Hamilton made her way down the center aisle between rows of folding chairs and took the stage. Gus and her bakers in matching navy-and-white aprons stood behind the podium.
“All ready to go?” Virginia asked the crew behind her.
“Ready,” Gus said. She tried to look cheerful and mighty for the good of the cause.
“Good evening,” Virginia said into the handheld microphone. “Thank you for coming.”
Murmuring in the audience quieted.
“As many of you know, the STRIPE is a long-standing tradition stretching back twenty-five years.”
Some mumbling and whispering followed. Gus imagined people were exchanging war stories.
“This year, I’m delighted to give you the chance to learn something truly useful—how to decorate a birthday cake for someone you love.”
A smattering of applause followed. Gus took this as a good sign. Teaching willing learners was a lot more fun than teaching prisoners.
“I will now turn it over to Augusta Murphy of Aunt Augusta’s Bakery. Gus is a local girl who went to culinary school and the big city for a while then came home. She’ll be featured in a newspaper article soon. A photographer from the paper is here tonight, and I know you’ll want to be included in the feature, too, with the wonderful cakes you’ll be decorating.”
Gus took a deep breath then turned on her lapel mic. She stood behind a long table with bare cakes and supplies.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton. Well, let’s get started.”
Gus placed a cake on the turntable and grabbed a pastry bag, spinning and icing while she explained. On the first cake, she piped a few simple flowers, added a border and wrote Happy Birthday. A photographer stood nearby and his camera flashed repeatedly during her demonstration.
“Now watch one more time while I review the steps and do another sample.” The audience was dead silent. That could be good or bad, she thought. Either they were awed and enthralled or they had all fallen asleep in their hard metal chairs. She risked a glance up after she put the next cake on the turntable. All awake, all staring at her. She iced the cake, again adding flowers and a border.
“Remember, your cake doesn’t necessarily have to be a birthday cake. It could be an anniversary or other holiday. As long as you have fun.” She began writing as she spoke, drawing the outline of the Sea Devil and writing Get Well Soon. The audience laughed and the photographer snapped several pictures.
Gus looked up and saw Jack standing at the back, arms crossed over his chest. His face was invisible in the shadows, so she couldn’t judge his reaction. She figured there was no harm in the joke now that Jack had discovered the solution to the ride’s problems. The engineers had been there a few days ago and declared his idea a winner. Construction on t
he themed windbreak was already half completed, and hopes ran high for a flawless rest of the summer.
“Now,” Gus said, returning her focus to the decorating class, “everyone to a practice table.”
The crowd stood, bunched, shifted and moved.
Gus’s table was quickly swamped. She pulled plastic tubs filled with Styrofoam circles and bags of prefilled icing from under the table, handing them out.
“Okay, step one. Let’s all practice holding the pastry bag and squeezing out a row of icing. It’s okay if you make a mess the first time. Everyone does.”
“She’s not kidding,” Jack said from behind her. With his height, he looked right over her head at the circle of would-be decorators.
How was she supposed to be serious and authoritative, carrying out the STRIPE training, with a very distracting man over her shoulder? She was in charge of a cake mission here. Letting Jack mix sparkles into her batter would be a mistake.
It was bad enough that her attention followed him every time he walked past her bakery. Before or after hours, when he cruised on a junk bicycle, rubber band around his pant leg, she’d flirted with the idea of jumping on the bike and going wherever he was headed. Considering his callous treatment of the vendors and complete lack of remorse for hiking their rates, she should be considering putting a stick through his spokes and shooting him with the rubber band.
Now she was trapped, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird in a net.
“Can I join your table if I promise to listen and behave?” he asked.
She wanted to say no, but the people next to Gus moved aside, making room for Jack.
“I could send you over to Aunt Augusta’s table, but I probably ought to take pity on you. I think I saw a wooden spoon in her apron pocket. Just in case someone’s not paying attention.”
Jack stood right at her elbow and looked her squarely in the eye.
“You have my full attention,” he whispered, a grin sliding up his face. He winked at her. Actually winked.
She glanced swiftly around the table. Everyone was either busily organizing their supplies or trying to look busy.
“You have to set a good example.”