Carousel Nights (13 page)

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.

* * *

T
HREE
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

“W
HERE
'
S
M
OM
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 the 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.”

“Maybe people have little kids and long drives home. Have to work the next day. Their feet are bloody stumps. Stuff like that. All kinds of reasons people get on the road.”

“I guess. But it's still a cool idea.”

Mel laughed. “Like to see Evie's face when you suggest exploding a couple of thousand bucks every night. She'd probably pull up her spreadsheet and stare you down over her reading glasses.”

“I know it's way out of our price range. This year. But it's worth at least considering. The idea of it. Maybe we could do a nighttime show of some kind.”

“Let's hear it,” Mel said, crossing the small hill on the Point Bridge. “We've got at least twenty minutes before we get over to Port Warren.”

June giggled. “Thanks for thinking I've got twenty minutes' worth of new ideas. But we shouldn't talk business tonight.”

“All right,” Mel agreed.

June silently watched Bayside go by as Mel got on the bypass and skirted the small city. They'd be crossing a large bridge over the bay as they neared Port Warren. June had always loved the massive bridge, remembering childhood trips in the backseat of her parents' car. In the daytime, fishing and pleasure boats dotted the blue water far below the bridge. Stars hung low on summer nights, visible because the bridge was several miles from the bright lights of the Point or any of the small cities in the region.

“We could build a stage in front of the Crazycat. Have lights and a dance show. Maybe involve the crowd with a dance competition,” she said.

“Not great for the sore-footed, but teenagers would stick around. Building a stage and setting up lights isn't free, but it's also not ten grand a night like good fireworks would be.”

“Is it doable?”

“You could talk me into it. But you'll have to be creative.”

* * *

D
RINKS
ON
THE
table and dinner orders placed, Mel and June faced each other across a gleaming white tablecloth at the Port House Inn. Not really an inn in terms of having overnight accommodations, the restaurant had kept the name from a time when the lighthouse and coal docks had made it a safe and profitable port. Generally too fancy for Mel's taste, he figured the sight of June in that red dress was going to be worth the bill. Now that the inn catered mostly to the boating and yacht club crowd, his tie and her fancy shoes fit right in.

“I've only been here once,” June said. “I think it was some special occasion like my mom's birthday or Mother's Day.” She half shrugged. “It was ten or fifteen years ago. But I still remember the strawberry cheesecake.”

Mel smiled. “Must have made quite an impression. You should have something else for dessert tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because if you're going to remember something that happens tonight for the next decade and a half, I want it to be better than strawberry cheesecake.”

“Hard to compete with that,” June said.

“I'll work at it.”

He cut a slice of bread from the small loaf delivered on its own little cutting board. Serving June first, he lopped off another slice and devoured it in two bites.

“Sorry. Starving. Worked through lunch so I could knock off early and get Ross and his luggage to my parents'. Thought I was going to be late when we realized his favorite pajamas were in the washer.”

“What did you do?”

“Put 'em in the dryer by themselves on high while I packed the other stuff. Amazing how fast polyester will dry like that.”

“You're a superhero,” June said.

“Nope. But when you have a kid you realize your life doesn't belong to you anymore. And you're usually one lost backpack or one loose tooth away from disaster.”

“I don't know how you manage it all alone.”

“I'm not alone. I'm luckier than a lot of single parents. I have free day care at work and my parents do everything they can to make up for...”

He poured them both a glass of wine, not bothering to finish his last sentence.

“Does Ross ask about his mother?” June said.

“He used to. Used to ask when she was coming, why she didn't live with us. Stuff like that. He doesn't ask much anymore.”

“Poor Ross.”

Mel ate another piece of bread and sipped his drink.

“I haven't been on a date in years,” Mel said. “So I'm out of practice, but I can do better than this for conversation.”

“For example?”

“You look so good in that dress I can easily convince myself to forget you're my best friend's sister.”

June smiled. “Nice. I like this conversation. What else do you have?”

“You should say something about how charming and irresistible I am, especially in this shirt and tie. The collar itches, you know. You have to throw me a bone.”

“Every other woman in this restaurant is jealous and hoping I screw things up so bad you'll offer yourself to the next available woman in the room.”

“Very nice. But I don't recommend it.”

“What?” June asked.

“Putting me at the mercy of the expensive-jewelry-fancy-boat crowd.”

“You might be just what they're looking for.”

Mel laughed. “I got all the grease out from under my nails, but there's still a pair of work boots under my bed and a toolbox in the back of my truck.”

“I like that about you.”

Mel shifted in his seat. He wondered if she also liked the fact that he had an ex-wife, was currently married to his job, and came as a package deal with a boy who considered corn dogs a food group and had a drawer full of Lego in the kitchen.

He picked up his iced water and took a long drink. “New topic. My son has a birthday coming up this summer and I could use some ideas. What is the best birthday present you ever got?”

June sipped her wine, smiling at him over the rim, taking her time. “Dance costume when I was ten. It was black, so I thought I was really sophisticated. And it had matching shoes.”

“Sequins?”

“Of course. You could see me from the space shuttle. I wore it constantly until I grew six inches between the ages of eleven and twelve and couldn't squeeze into it anymore.”

“Too bad.”

“Yes, but I like being tall, so hey.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Sometimes I worry that I'm too tall for a dancer. I maybe look a little goofy out there with the five-foot-seven crowd. I think I've lost a few parts because of my ridiculously long legs.”

Mel leaned out and took a long, dramatic look under the table. “I see no problem there.”

June slapped him lightly on the forearm. “People are staring.”

“So?”

“Why don't you tell me about your favorite birthday present?”

“Best I ever got was last fall. My parents got me a game system.”

June rolled her eyes. “Video games?”

“Hey, winters are pretty long. Plus, they got me and Ross some fun games we can play together. We build cities and knock 'em down. Sometimes we're superheroes. Sometimes we race cars. We race a lot of cars.”

“You and Ross?”

“No fun playing alone. One of the best things about having a son. Never alone. That's sometimes the worst thing, too, but not often. Always have someone waiting for you after work, happy to see you just because.”

June's teasing smile faded. She refolded the napkin in her lap. Mel was afraid he'd said too much, painting a picture of his life that lacked all the sparkle June was looking for in hers.

“Do you ever wonder,” she began, but she was interrupted by the waiter delivering steaming dishes that smelled like heaven. Mel was hungry, but nervous. Wishing for all the time in the world, but feeling rushed like a summer day destined to end, no matter how beautiful the sunset.