by Amie Denman
Mel slid onto the bench next to June. He was so close their thighs touched. June wrestled with wanting to scoot away and wanting to savor the feel of his skin on hers.
Moving away quickly became impossible because Ross parked himself on her other side, disregarding personal space and smelling like a combination of sunscreen and cotton candy.
“Give her some space,” Mel said.
“Sorry,” Ross said, putting some space between him and June.
June put an arm around Ross’s shoulders and pulled him back. “You can sit right next to me,” she said. “Everyone on my team agrees you were a fantastic grand marshal of the parade today. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Ross beamed. “Do you really think so?”
June smiled. “I sure do.”
The midway lights were coming on, but the stars wouldn’t be visible overhead for hours. June wondered if she’d still be riding rides with Mel and Ross or if they’d all be tucked in their beds by the time the Big Dipper hung over the giant wheel.
Sunlight still bathed the three of them as they stayed on the bench a moment longer. Pink and orange glanced off June’s folded hands and bare knees. A hot day promised a warm evening. She sat between two people—one who’d had a sliver of her heart for almost as long as she remembered. And one who slipped under her skin a little more every minute.
Mel covered her hand with his and pulled it onto his leg.
“Thanks for meeting up with us tonight.”
In answer, June curled her fingers into the edge of his cargo shorts, feeling the hard muscles underneath.
“I better help them out,” Ross said, jumping up and walking over to the young couple now arguing over the outspread map.
“He knows his way around here,” Mel said. “And is desperate to be helpful.”
“Like you.” June turned to Mel, his arm on the back of the bench creating a haven for her. “He’s a lot like you, isn’t he?”
Mel smiled. “Assuming you mean that nicely—yes.”
“Of course. Ross is adorable.”
“Just like me.”
A passing summer employee with a short broom and dustpan paused and gave June a look that suggested she found Mel adorable, too. Sigh. In a perfect world.
Sitting on a bench washed in sunset glow, with a man who melted her inside and out made her wonder. Just for a moment. What if? What if she didn’t leave Starlight Point? What if evenings like this were there for the taking all summer? What would she lose—and gain—if she stopped chasing a dream and focused on the stars that were a little closer to her horizon?
The small coaster running parallel to the beach whooshed behind her, screams and rattling shattering her thoughts of a perfect life with Mel. Married to Starlight Point, a prisoner of Starlight Point. Just like the rest of her family. They were willing prisoners, in love with their jailer, but that was no life for her.
Ross plopped down beside her, looking very serious. “I told them exactly where to go,” he said.
Mel’s smothered laughter shook the bench while June tried for an appropriate expression. She didn’t know much about kids, but Ross was obviously unaware of his own joke.
“I’m sure you made their day,” she said.
“Ready to start riding stuff?” Ross asked. “Dad says you’re not afraid of anything.”
June flicked a glance at Mel and returned her attention to Ross. “Everyone is afraid of something,” she said. “Especially your dad. He’s afraid of rides that go in very fast circles. Which is why we’re taking mercy on him and starting with the Space Drop.”
“Cool. I’m only afraid on that one for a minute when you’re hanging at the top. Once it drops you, it’s fun.”
“The waiting is always the hardest part,” June said.
“How about dinner first?” Mel asked. He rubbed his belly. “Dying here.”
“No way,” June said. “The first rule of serious ride-riding is no heavy food. No burgers, no fries. Especially no ice cream.” She pursed her lips and gave Ross a deadpan face. “Ice cream is always a mistake. Trust me.”
Mel groaned.
“Maybe we’ll get a hot pretzel. It can settle while we’re in line for the Swirler,” June said.
“Hurler,” Mel complained. “How about I get the pretzels while you two ride.”
“Chicken,” June said.
“I thought you said no heavy food.”
“She means you, Dad,” Ross said.
While Mel waited in a long line for hot pretzels, June and Ross rode the Swirler. Twice. It was obvious after the first round that Ross was a lot like his father.
But Ross wasn’t a carbon copy of Mel. She wasn’t exactly like her parents, either. From her mother, she’d gotten a sense of whimsy and imagination. She didn’t picture herself coming up with crazy STRIPE plans or hauling an old dog around in a wagon, but choreographing and costuming shows definitely tapped into a sense of imaginative artistry. From her father, she’d gotten stubbornness and ambition. A driving sense of what she wanted in life that didn’t always include sharing her plans with other people. Especially when she was afraid they wouldn’t understand them. Her father’s reluctance to share his business practices and keep his dream alive at all costs had finally cost him everything.
Her siblings handled things differently. Evie added up columns and took control by establishing order. Jack relied on charm, relationships and cookies. They made a great pair, running Starlight Point with the same devotion as their parents, but with a more inclusive and organized plan. Maybe June with her “flaky” streak, as Jack liked to call it, was superfluous. Not needed. Perhaps that was a relief, and she could keep going on the Broadway highway until she finally got where she wanted to be.
It was a lot to think about as she ushered Ross off the ride, wondering what qualities he would eventually end up with from his father and mother. Seeing Mel standing at the ride exit, three pretzels balanced in his large hands, made it obvious where Ross’s good qualities would come from. As for his mother, apparently she had a “flaky” streak, too.
Where do I fit in?
“Which one is for me?” she asked.
“Lady’s choice,” Mel said. “There are three different kinds. I like them all, and Ross is a human garbage disposal. We’ll take whatever you leave us.”
June carefully selected the salted pretzel, knowing Mel liked sweet things, Ross liked mustard, and feeling the weight of the little decision like a small star in a galaxy of millions.
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, June concluded that playing in the park took a greater toll now than it had at thirteen. She felt an inch-thick layer of sweat and grime on her skin, and her feet were swollen blocks inside her sneakers.
Those problems she could admit to Mel, knowing he shared them. The heavy ache punctuated by sharp streaks in her knee was not something she cared to admit even to herself.
They walked the Western Trail, heading slowly toward the junction where the marina exit gate would veer off. Mel carried Ross with one arm and the boy’s head had dropped lower and lower, giving away the fact that he’d fallen asleep somewhere near the frontier fort.
“Want me to carry you, too?” Mel asked. “Still got one shoulder available and you’re not heavy.”
“Tell that to my feet.”
“Noticed you limping a little.”
“No, I wasn’t,” June said quickly.
Mel laughed. “Okay, you’ve been dancing since we got off the train at the Wonderful West platform.”
“What made us think getting off the train would be a good idea?” June asked.
“My fault. I remember saying something asinine about tiring Ross out so he’ll sleep tonight.”
“Who knew you were such a genius?” June said,
grateful that Mel carried a heavy burden so he wouldn’t notice her slow, small steps. The past month had allowed her to forget about her knee for the first time in almost a year. Exercises and stretching, lots of walking and limiting her dancing to almost zero had refreshed her body. Her immense physical well-being, despite long days, overshadowed her worry about the brief window of opportunity on the big stage.
However, on a night like this, when her body refused to play along, she wondered if that window had already closed.
“How are you getting back?” Mel asked.
June’s head snapped up. Had he guessed her thoughts?
“Home,” Mel said. “Did you walk like you usually do?”
She nodded. “Habit. Not much sense driving across the parking lot to the Old Road.”
Mel shifted the weight of his sleeping son to the other shoulder. “Come with me to the marina lot and I’ll drive you home. Save you a lot of walking.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m serious. My feet would never make it that far. And I owe you for riding the spinny rides with Ross.”
June laughed. “You do owe me, but you have to get Ross home. And if you don’t merge onto the Point road in the next twenty minutes, you’ll get caught in the closing traffic and sit for an hour.”
They came to a bench near the railroad crossing and a nacho stand. “I’m parking myself here with a cold drink. When security sweeps the trail in half an hour, I’ll bum a ride.”
Mel paused and looked hesitant. His T-shirt was creased, hair awry, five o’clock shadow visible even in the dim lighting on the trail. It was time for him to go home.
June plopped down on the bench. “I’m not moving another inch and you’re flirting with a traffic jam every minute you hang around.”
Mel shifted Ross a little higher and eyed the bench enviously.
“Rather flirt with you.”
“Rain check.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” He paused, screams from the roller coasters breaking the silence. “Tomorrow night. A date?”
June swung both legs onto the bench, buying herself a moment before she answered.
“Dinner and adult conversation. No spinny rides or queue lines,” he added, sweetening the deal. “And not at the Point. We’ll go somewhere. Wherever you want.”
Saying yes was tempting, but it was risky. Crossing a line.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked. “We’ve...uh...been down that road.”
Mel nodded. “I remember.”
“And nothing has changed.”
“If by nothing you mean you’re still leaving—again—at the end of the summer, I know,” he said. “I’m just feeling brave today. My only son left the nest and got a job for a few hours and I survived it.”
“If we go out to dinner,” June said cautiously, “what about Ross?”
“I’ll arrange a sleepover with Grandma.”
“What if we’re still too tired to move by tomorrow night?”
“Say yes, June. We’ve known each other for twenty years and eaten a lot of meals together. I want to say thank you for giving my son a fun day.”
June lay full out on the bench. It was cold and hard but still a slice of heaven.
“Yes. Now go away and let me die.”
Carefully supporting his sleeping son, Mel leaned way down and kissed June on the forehead. She closed her eyes, letting the heat from his lips breathe energy through her. More than energy, adrenaline spiked all the way to her toes.
“Good night,” she said.
“I’m calling security and reporting a vagrant on a bench by the Nacho Rocket Shop.”
“Mention my name and you’ll get good service,” June said sleepily.
“Tomorrow night,” Mel replied, walking away on unsteady legs.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WHERE’S MOM TONIGHT?” June asked, finding Evie having a salad on the patio overlooking the lake. Betty was sprawled on a chair next to Evie, soaking up the late afternoon sun.
“Downtown. Having dinner with her friends from the historic-preservation society. Then they’re having a meeting about their summer fund-raising gala.”
“Afraid to ask.”
“You should be. I’m pretty sure the gala is going to be held here.” Evie gestured toward the back lawn. “Big tent. Lots of booze. Overdressed people. Overpriced tickets. All for the sake of preserving local history.”
“Sounds either insane or really fun,” June said.
“They’d planned it for last year—at least they started to—but when Dad died, they scrapped the plans. Temporarily. Looks like it’s on for this August.”
June stood by the table and ruffled Betty’s fur.
“You look nice,” Evie said. “Too nice for any place in Bayside.”
“Thanks. I think we’re headed over to Port Warren.”
“Sounds serious. Have you finally noticed what’s right in front of your face?” Evie asked.
“It’s just dinner between old friends.”
“Uh-huh.”
A truck pulled into the driveway with a low rumble.
“See you tomorrow,” Evie said.
“Very funny.”
Evie smiled. “I’m just saying if you don’t come home tonight, I won’t file a missing-persons report. Unless Mel fails to show up for work tomorrow. Then I’m going to be mad you eloped without telling me first. I want to use my bridesmaid’s dress from Gus and Jack’s wedding at least one more time so I can justify the cost.”
Both sisters glanced up when Mel stepped around the house on the curving sidewalk. They were used to seeing him there, goofing off with their brother and hanging around since they were kids.
But tonight he looked very different. He wore trim black trousers, a crisp striped oxford, blue tie and dress shoes. Clean-shaven, he’d even gotten a fresh haircut. Devastatingly handsome no matter what he wore, tonight he was six foot three of danger.
“He looks like he means business,” Evie whispered. “I’m getting that bridesmaid’s dress dry-cleaned and ready.”
Mel walked over and paused at the edge of the flagstone patio, his glance stopping politely on Evie and then focusing on her sister. June wore a red sleeveless knee-length dress and low-heeled sandals with a strap around the ankle. She hoped she looked good enough for a man to take a second look. Mel was going back for thirds already.
Evie cleared her throat. “June just invited me to come along,” she said. “I’ll grab my purse and Betty’s travel bag.”
Mel broke his concentration and turned a puzzled look on Evie.
“Just kidding. You kids have fun. Betty and I have the house all to ourselves tonight. I think we’ll get drunk and do our nails.”
June gave her sister a quick shoulder-hug.
“Ready when you are,” she said to Mel, hoping to hit a light tone.
Mel waved to Evie with one hand and put the other arm around June’s waist.
“You are too beautiful to ride in my eight-year-old truck with a dent as big as my leg. If you give me a minute, I’ll steal something nice out of the Starlight Point parking lot.”
“It’s not stealing if we return it before the park closes,” June suggested.
“I hate operating with time constraints.” Mel opened the passenger-side door. “How did you get back to your house last night?”
“Evie picked me up in the first-aid scooter. I didn’t even know she could drive that thing. Apparently someone called and told her I was near death on a bench outside the nacho stand.”
Mel smiled and closed her door. He walked around the front and slid in behind the wheel. Even in a truck, he looked too tall for his surroundings. Dressed as he was, he should be sliding behind t
he wheel of a flashy sports car.
“Might be a Porsche in that lot somewhere. Still willing to risk wrecking my friendship with all the local cops if you’d prefer a ride that’s less...industrial.”
“I like your truck. It’s you.”
“Good thing since it’s all I have.”
“It’s all you need,” June said.
Mel backed onto the Old Road, no traffic in sight. The only people who traveled on this narrow strip of asphalt were the few families who lived there—two Hamilton houses and a handful of others. It was a magical place to live, sandwiched between an amusement park and a beautiful lake. The disadvantage—if one could consider it that—was the quiet but steady buzz of summer resort sounds all season long. Trying to cut across the Starlight Point parking lot and get onto the Point Bridge could always be a matter of delicate timing in the summer, although the Old Road did eventually meander into Bayside.
No cars were leaving the Point in the late afternoon of a perfect summer day. June watched Mel’s hands on the steering wheel—strong, capable hands that fixed things and kept her family’s business going.
“No traffic tonight,” Mel remarked. “Everyone is staying until closing I bet. Too bad we only have fireworks once a year on the Fourth of July.”
Was Mel making polite conversation to cover—what, nerves? Or maybe they didn’t know what to say to each other on an actual date. But then, what he’d said struck her. Fireworks every night. She pictured the massive crowds that stayed until the gates closed every year on the Fourth of July. Was it the holiday or the fireworks? What would persuade people to ride, eat and shop until they turned out the lights? Fireworks, maybe, but there were other ways. This could be genius—upping daily revenue by 5 percent? Even 10 percent?
“You’re quiet,” Mel said. “What’s got your wheels turning? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“Fireworks. Every night. It would give people a reason to stay until closing.”
“They pretty much do, don’t they?”
“Not all of them. You can watch the front turnstiles and see how many people pour out of there between eight and ten o’clock. The gate tallies would tell us for sure.”
