Carousel Nights (8 page)

The boy played the melody again, a little more confident this time, stumbling over only one note.

“Let's add some harmony, just for fun. You keep doing that, and I'll play on the lower keys. All you have to do is keep a steady rhythm.”

Ross turned a questioning look to her.

“I mean don't speed up or slow down.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ross played melody, and June filled in a robust harmony, improvising and having fun. The music filled the theater, echoing from the empty seats and balcony. She'd played that piano all day, concentrating on making every single thing perfect. But this was different.
It was fun
. No competition, no need to be perfect.

“One more time,” June said. “We're a great team.”

They ran through the song again with June adding some variations. Ross had a smile a moonbeam wide and had gained enough bravery to use two fingers at a time.

“That was awesome,” he said. “Can you teach me to play all by myself?”

June ached to say yes, but she wouldn't be in the area long enough to get through the first few songs in the piano lesson book. He needed a piano teacher who'd stick around.

“Well,” she began, “with talent like yours, I think you could pick it up really fast. So you probably need a very good teacher who can keep up with you.”

A floorboard creaked behind her. She and Ross turned quickly, almost bumping heads above the piano bench. Mel leaned against a pillar at the edge of the stage, arms crossed, intently watching them.

“Did you hear me playing, Daddy?”

Mel smiled at the boy. “Sure did. You were amazing.”

“He has quite an ear,” June said. “Where'd he get all that artistic talent?”

She wished she could go back in time five seconds and tell herself to shut up. Remembering too late that Ross's mother was off somewhere trying to build a career as an artist instead of being here seeing her son grow up made her heart feel as if someone was squeezing it. She could only imagine how Mel and Ross felt. How could anyone not want to be around a kid as sweet as Ross?

Mel's expression became unreadable. “Ready to go, son?”

“Can I play a little more? Want to hear the whole thing again?”

His expression softening, Mel nodded. “If your partner doesn't mind.”

“Are you kidding? I love this. Takes me back to when I was his age doing exactly the same thing.” She leaned closer to Ross. “I used to hang around this theater all the time.”

“Did your dad work at Starlight Point, too?”

June laughed. “Yep.” She bit her lip and glanced back at Mel. He was smiling, too.

“From the top,” she said.

CHAPTER EIGHT

J
UNE
TAPPED
HER
foot and scrutinized the front of the Midway Theater.
Finally
. Opening day for live shows. The past four weeks were a blur of crowds, rides, popcorn and plenty of long hours. And today was a huge debut. She was as nervous as she'd been on opening nights of the Broadway shows she danced in. Even though she wasn't performing, her heart was on stage with those young dancers.

She'd thought of everything. She hoped.

Music, pacing, lighting.

Zippers, hairpieces, smiles.

Everything. Except getting someone to replace the letters on the Midway Theater marquee. When the workers painted the building's facade a fresh yellow and changed all the lightbulbs, they left the sign with the sliding letters and numbers untouched. The posters were in their glass cases. Flyers and ads were printed. But the heavy old marquee still advertised last year's show. With half of the black letters missing.

It had to be done, but she needed someone to climb up there. June's knee was better than ever, but climbing was still not her friend. She wasn't risking all her progress by standing on a ladder.

June strolled over to Augusta's midway bakery, its pink awning adorned with tempting graphics of doughnuts, cookies and cakes. Although the front shutter was still rolled down, she knew Gus would be in there with a few seasonal bakers making doughnuts and icing cookies for the sunny Saturday in early June.

Opening the employee door at the back of the bakery, June leaned in and looked around. “You in here, Gus?”

The smell was heaven. Sugar. Grease. More sugar.
Temptation
.

Augusta's voice carried over the growl of the stand mixer. “Over here.” Gus wore her pink apron—the uniform of all her employees. Hair pulled back, a Starlight Point hat on her head, she towered over a mixer, peering into it.

“Cookies?” June asked.

“Icing,” Gus said. One spoonful at a time, she added water from a small bowl. “Have to get it just the right consistency or it won't flow onto the cookies.”

June leaned on the counter and watched. “I don't know a thing about baking.”

“I could teach you,” Gus offered, never taking her eyes off the icing.

“Why? I'll just eat your cookies. I feel guilty about stealing them, so I don't eat too many.”

“Good plan. Your brother doesn't have the same strategy.”

“But he has testosterone. So he can eat a lot more useless calories than I can. And he can hide the evidence under those business suits. Dance costumes are not so forgiving.”

“Men have it made,” Gus agreed, testing the consistency of her icing by dribbling it from a rubber spatula. “And they're good for business.”

June watched her for a moment, tempted to swipe her finger through the icing and lick it off, but Gus had rules about that. Serious rules. Family was not excluded from the prohibition on licking the bowl. Ever.

“It's opening day for live shows,” June said.

“I know. I wanted to make a special cookie for you, but it's hard to come up with the right shape. The star theme seemed too easy, guitars and music notes never really look like what they're supposed to be, so I gave up on those. I did consider making a cookie shaped like your parade float.”

“But?”

Gus drew her eyebrows together and made a face like she'd eaten a lemon. “I didn't see the float until last night, so there wasn't enough time. And...it's not really inspiring as a food shape.”

“You mean it's ugly.”

“I think its beauty would be lost in translation to cookie form.”

“You're just being nice. You think it's ugly.”

“No,” Gus said. “I think it looks like an old truck. You haven't worked your magic on it yet, but don't worry. If you put enough dancers around it and turn up the music, no one's going to care. Besides,” she added matter-of-factly, “people love parades. I hope they line up right in front of my shop and devour cupcakes while they wait.”

Gus divided the icing into several smaller glass bowls and added color paste to most of them. She deftly blended blue, red and green, leaving the largest bowl white.

“I can't wait to see your shows.” She looked up from her icing and grinned. “You've been knocking yourself out. Feel like you're ready?”

June nodded. “I think both shows will be amazing. The musicians and performers are awesome. I could use a little more training time with the ushers and the servers in the Saloon, but they'll pick it up soon. I hope.”

Gus laughed. “I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into last season. Didn't know if I'd need a dozen cookies or a thousand on opening day. But we figured it out.” She handed June a freshly iced carousel horse. “You'll be fine.”

June bit the head off the horse and savored the hint of lemon and vanilla in the icing. “You wouldn't happen to have a ladder, would you? A tall one?”

Gus shook her head. “Nope. I hardly have room to store my supplies. I was hoping for a bigger shop this year, but here I am. I can call maintenance if you like. Someone would bring you a ladder. Especially that cute one who appears to take an interest in theater. What's his name? Marv, Max—oh, that's right—Mel.”

June was glad her mouth was full so she didn't have to make a quick response. Gus thought Mel liked her? Who else thought that?
Did he?

Maybe someone, probably Evie or Jack, had told Gus about the very brief summer romance seven long years ago. When they were practically
children
. Not the adults they were now with obligations making any possibility of a relationship unrealistic.

Gus was a romantic, probably the result of making wedding cakes every weekend. She was imagining things.
Wasn't she?

“Very funny,” June said casually after she swallowed her mouthful of cookie. “I've fallen in love with every member of the maintenance staff here, one at a time, whoever was working on my theaters at the moment.”

“Can't believe a guy like that is still on the market,” Gus said. “You should snap him up before the summer workers notice him in his navy blues sporting a tan.”

He already has a tan
. And he was more handsome at twenty-seven than he'd been at twenty. He also had a son who needed his attention. And she had a show waiting for her in New York.

“I could distract Jack for you in case he'd have some objection about his best friend dating his sister. He can be bought. Easily.”

Polishing off her cookie, June shoved away from the counter. “No, thanks. I'm pretty busy, and I'm not planning to leave my heart at Starlight Point when I'm back on Broadway in a few months. Right now, I've only got one hour before the park opens.”

“Only an hour?” Gus brushed her hands off on her apron. “I better get moving. You can't believe what it's like in here when those gates open. People work up a sugar craving on the drive and look at my doughnuts with crazy eyes. Hope no one ever opens a doughnut shop right on the other side of the bridge. That would kill me.”

A beeper over a big fryer of doughnuts went off and Gus raced to it.

June grinned. “Good luck.”

* * *

M
EL
HEARD
THE
request come over the radio. Somebody needed a ladder in front of the Midway Theater. He'd wondered when June would get around to changing the letters on the marquee. Today was her big opening day and she was probably as nervous as a marshmallow at a cookout. He'd planned to avoid her today. Ross had talked about her all the way home yesterday—the pretty lady who bought him ice cream and played the piano with him.

She was playing Mel, too. But that was a mistake he'd made before. He'd survived it, but he didn't want Ross getting attached to someone who would exit as soon as her song was over.

“Can you take the ladder, Boss?” Galway said. “My truck's loaded with traffic cones 'cause I'm helping the parking crew while their truck is in the shop. Gotta go dump them off by the tollbooths or it'll be chaos when cars start jockeying for lanes.”

Mel glanced at the ladder leaning against the wall and his obviously empty truck right in front of it.
Crap.
He had no excuse.

“Thought you might be headed up there anyway to check on things,” Galway added. “You've put a lot of work into the theaters this year.”

“I put a lot of work into everything,” Mel said.

“I know. Just pointing out that both theaters had your attention.” Galway grinned at him and climbed into his truck.

Can't a guy do his job without people reading into it?
Maybe he was just being sensitive after listening to Ross review the piano lesson eight times before bed.

Mel waited for Galway to pull away, and then he backed his truck out of the maintenance area. If he was lucky, he'd find one of the summer stagehands with a cardboard box full of black letters and orders to put up the sign advertising the new show. He could drop off the ladder and run.

But he didn't tend to be a lucky man.

As he drove up to the theater and found June standing out front, shading her eyes, his conjecture was confirmed. She flashed him a smile as he got out of his truck that suggested he was exactly who she wanted to see. Of course he was. He had her ladder sticking out the back of his truck.

“That was fast,” she said. “And you sent your best man.”

He grinned. “Only one available.”

“I only need one.”

Mel tried to think of something cool and calm. Like the frozen lake in the winter. Or the cold steel of his truck as he got out and shoved the door shut. It didn't help.

“I assume you want this ladder right here?” he asked.

June smiled and nodded. “I do.”

He balanced the ladder on one shoulder and set it in front of the marquee, carefully resting it against the sign without damaging it. He checked the angle and scooted the feet out just a little more, bracing it carefully on the concrete.

“Want me to come back and pick it up in a bit? I'm checking on something at the front gate before the park opens, so I'll be in the neighborhood.”

June glanced up at the marquee, her expression clouded. “I know just what I want it to say. Got the letters all ready.”

“So it shouldn't take you long.”

“I thought maybe...” She paused and chewed her lower lip.

“Maybe I could check your spelling?” Mel asked.

“It's pretty high up, and I know you're not afraid of heights.”

“Maybe I'm terrified on top of the Sea Devil and I'm just acting brave so I don't get canned or transferred to the popcorn wagon,” Mel said. “Besides, marquee signs aren't really in my area of expertise.”

“Anyone can slide the letters into the rows. And it would be helpful to have someone on the ground to tell if it looks right. Centered. Stuff like that.”

“I'll be right here,” Mel said. “I can tell if something is square.”

“I think I should be the judge. Besides, you've got on better ladder-climbing shoes,” she said, gesturing toward his work boots.

Mel glanced at June's sneakers. Her argument didn't hold a lot of water, but he was wasting time. His truck had to be off the midway in less than a half hour and he still had a string of lights at the gate to troubleshoot.

“Fine,” he said. He took the small box of letters she held out and started to climb. “Just tell me what you want this thing to say.”

He knew he sounded grouchy, but he was struggling. If he just got this job over with, he could get on with the complicated business of keeping June at arm's length while wishing he didn't want to soak her up like sunshine.

“The top line says ‘Fall in love with the Stars,'” June said.

“Okay,” Mel said, looking down at her with a cynical expression. “I thought this was a Broadway review. Dance songs. Stuff like that.”

“All songs are love songs.”

All songs are love songs. Ridiculous
. Mel searched his brain trying to refute her assertion and steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Not ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,'” he said.

“All popular songs you can dance to are about love,” June said.

He shook his head. He'd have to think about that later.

Mel braced his knees on the insides of the ladder so he could free up his hands to draw letters from the shallow box. “Fall in love with the Stars,” he grumbled, digging for letters.

“I'm serious,” June said. “Then the line below it says ‘A Sparkling Broadway Revue.'”

“Don't tell me there's a third line.”

“Just show times. Eleven, one, three, five and seven.”

“Long day for performers.”

“For everyone around here.”

“Next year, we should put up an electronic sign instead of these old slots and letters. Then you can type up whatever you want. Even change it every day.”

He made the mistake of looking down. June's expression was pure excitement. Maybe he shouldn't have brought up the idea of a digital sign. He knew from experience she liked things that were bright and things she could change.

“Is it too late to get one this year?”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“No way. It would involve wiring, tearing off the face of the marquee you just had painted and more time than I have. There's no way it's getting done with the season already started.”

He didn't want to look down and see her disappointment. Why did he wish he could stay up all night running cable to a new digital sign just to see her face when she saw it? June was going to turn him into a lunatic.

“Can you space the letters out a little more?” she asked.

Obligingly, Mel slid the letters along the track leaving even spacing between them. He finished the first and second row and paused, leaning away so June could see it without obstruction.