“I’ll go,” Jack said. “I just stopped by to say...”
Gus tapped a pencil on the counter while she waited. It was funny to see such a tall, well-dressed man acting so... What was it? Nervous? Guilty? Aloof?
“I know how influential you are with the other vendors,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know why.”
“You don’t know why people would listen to me.” It was a statement, not a question. Of course he wouldn’t get it. She kept her voice steady. “I’m the newest one there and a mere...”
“Baker?” Jack supplied. “That’s one of my favorite professions.”
Gus wanted to laugh, if only to break the tension. Her shoulders were like wild dogs straining at the leash of her spinal column.
“Let me enlighten you. The other vendors asked me to speak for them because I have three locations at Starlight Point. My sixty thousand dollars carries a lot of weight with them and with me.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“What?”
“Speak for them?” he said. “I thought you might come at me without the oven mitts.”
“I did come by the next morning, but your troll of a secretary said you were unavailable and would be all day. She implied I was wasting my time even trying.”
“Dorothea has been with us for centuries. She’s very loyal.”
“I’ll have to name a cookie after her.”
“She’d like that.”
Gus rolled her eyes and continued, “So did you really tell your guard not to let me past the palace gate?”
“It’s a busy time of year,” Jack said.
“Um, you gave us twenty-four hours to make a decision that could make or break our businesses. And you couldn’t make time to negotiate? Really?”
Jack stared at his shoes, his shoulders sagging. “I am sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you.”
“And what would you have done if you had?” Gus asked hotly. “Renegotiated? Offered us a better deal? Honored your father’s verbal commitment to people he’d worked with for years—some of them for decades?” She knew she was stepping over a line, invoking his deceased father, but he’d invaded her shop and insulted her.
Jack stared at her for ten long seconds, the veins standing out in his neck.
“I wouldn’t have changed a thing in the contract.”
Gus’s heart hammered in her chest. She’d pushed him too far for the second time in her role as leader of the vendors. And the results weren’t any better this time around. He had a way of turning her sunshine to storm clouds faster than weather changed in the Midwest.
“Goodbye,” she said.
Jack stalked to the door.
“You know,” he said, “I really came here today to say thank-you.”
And he was gone. One thing was certain. Jack was not an easy man to understand.
VIRGINIA HAMILTON PARKED Betty’s red wagon in front of the Midway Bakery, where Gus stopped working, wiped her hands on her apron and leaned across the counter, smiling at her visitor.
“All ready for opening day?” Virginia asked.
“You tell me,” Gus said. “How many customers do you think we’ll have?”
“Depends on the weather, of course, and the local schools are still in session a few more weeks, but I’d say we can count on ten thousand or so. A lot of regulars come for opening day every year.”
“Ten thousand cookies coming right up,” Gus said, laughing. “The rest of the special cookie cutters I ordered should be in tomorrow. I think you’ve already seen the carousel horse, but wait till you see the roller coasters—especially the new Sea Devil—on a cookie. My favorite is the Starlight Point skyline. We plan to ice those cookies in dark twilight colors so the coaster lights will really pop.”
Movement on the midway caught her attention. Jack Hamilton rode slowly past her shop on an old tandem bicycle, one of the employee loaners. The vacant seat made him look like a man dancing alone on an empty floor. He waved and continued down the midway, a rubber band around the leg of his suit pants.
Virginia waved to her son and turned back to Augusta. “I know you’re busy, but can I borrow a minute to talk about my summer project? I’d like to get the plans going right away.”
“What can I do?” Gus asked, striving for a neutral tone.
“I was thinking,” Virginia said. “All these young men and women will probably be parents someday. Most of our older employees already are.” She reached across the counter and laid her hand on Gus’s arm. “Family is very important here at Starlight Point.”
And they have no idea how lucky they are. Virginia had lost her husband, but she still had three children close at hand. As an only child with parents who moved often because of her father’s job, Augusta craved the sense of family and belonging that everyone else seemed to have. But she did have her aunt and a fledgling business—otherwise she’d still be adrift.
“Of course,” Gus said as she forced her thoughts back to Virginia’s summer project. “It’s a family amusement park, gotta love families. But what would you like me to do?”
This was getting scary. Was she supposed to teach them about family values? Natural childbirth? Installing a car seat correctly? Sibling rivalry?
Betty snored loudly in her wagon. She’d seen lots of summer improvement programs come and go. Maybe dog grooming had been one of them.
“What is an important thing that all parents should be able to do?” Virginia asked.
“Um...tie shoes? Sing the alphabet in two languages? Apply Band-Aids?”
“Make a birthday cake!” Virginia exclaimed. She smiled broadly and clapped her hands together once, leaving them joined.
“Oh,” Gus said. “That was my next guess.”
“Every parent should be able to bake and decorate a birthday cake for their child.”
“I think so, too. But they can also get one from a bakery,” Gus suggested, grinning. “I could recommend a good one for anyone looking.”
“But not every year, dear. Moms and dads should bake a cake, frost it, make it look pretty and be able to write their child’s name on it. And their age.”
“I think most people figure it out,” Gus said. “I learned how to make a birthday cake from my aunt.”
“Unfair advantage. Not everyone has an aunt Augusta,” Virginia said. “Some people never figure it out and they disappoint their kids every year.” She dropped her large purse onto the counter and dug through it, finally pulling out a packet of wallet-sized photos in a yellowed cellophane holder.
“See this picture? This is Jack’s fifth birthday.”
Gus took the photo, which showed an adorable dark-haired and dark-eyed boy at a kitchen table. Disgracing the table in front of him was the ugliest birthday cake in the world. It was an uneven round shape, covered in lumpy chocolate frosting. Canned frosting. A squiggly red line—probably from the dreadful