Carousel Nights. Amie Denman

      Ross nodded.

      Mel cocked his head and focused on Tosha. “The kids love it when you bring them ice cream, but you should let me pay you. It has to be putting you into bankruptcy.”

      She laughed. “Not at all. I take ice cream to the day care because I love it. And Jack Hamilton always pays.”

      “My brother?” June asked. Both eyebrows raised, she laughed out loud. “I had no idea he was such a softy.”

      “He has a serious sweet tooth, so he understands,” Tosha said. “I also think it’s his way to get back in my good graces after last summer’s squabble over the vendor contracts.” She shrugged. “Water under the bridge. What’s the special occasion today?”

      “I owe Mel. He was a real hero when a guest got his leg stuck in the turnstile at the Silver Streak,” June said.

      Mel’s neck burned under the collar of his work shirt. Taking apart a turnstile did not exactly make him a hero. Ross squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “You’re a hero,” his son said.

      “I was just doing my job and Miss June is just being nice,” Mel said.

      June knelt so she was eye level with Ross. “I’m June Hamilton,” she said. “I’ve heard nice things about you but we’ve never met.”

      Ross stuck out his hand as his father had taught him. “I’m Ross. I’m five and I can write my name.”

      June smiled. “I can write my name, too. And it has four letters just like yours. Did I hear you like strawberry ice cream?”

      Ross nodded.

      “Then that’s what I’m having.” She glanced up at Mel. “How about your dad? What’s his favorite kind of ice cream?”

      “Chocolate chip. He eats chocolate chips right out of the bag when we go to Grandma’s house,” Ross said. “Grandma doesn’t know.”

      Mel wanted to crawl into a crack in the concrete. He’d have to talk with Ross about revealing personal information to relative strangers.

      June stood up and smiled at Mel. “I eat frosting out of the can when I’m truly desperate,” she said.

      “What makes you desperate?” Mel asked. He had no idea why he’d asked and was afraid of the answer.

      June’s smile faded and she drew her eyebrows together.

      “No idea where you put all those calories,” Tosha said. “Skinny as you are, you must dance them all off. Wait here and I’ll make up three cones for you so you can skip the line.”

      Thank you, Tosha, for changing the subject.

      They collected their cones and sat at an umbrella-covered table. June filled Mel in on what happened with Jason the turnstile jumper. After a precautionary trip to the emergency room in Bayside, she explained, it appeared there was no serious damage. Some swelling and tenderness, but he was fifteen and he’d heal fast.

      “Do you think his parents will sue?” Mel asked.

      June shrugged. “They didn’t seem inclined, but you never know. I hope not. I don’t think we were negligent, and we certainly did everything we could to help him. Thanks to you.”

      “My grandparents have a cat,” Ross said.

      Mel rolled his eyes at June.

      “I like cats,” June said. “Back in New York City, where I usually live, I got to be in a show where we all pretended to be cats.”

      Ross frowned. “Don’t you live here?”

      “No. My work is in New York City.”

      Ross nodded. “Like my mom. Her work is somewhere else in some city. We never see her.” He balled up his napkin and headed for the nearest trash can.

      “Sorry,” June said.

      “Not your fault,” Mel replied. “Facts of life.”

      Ross came back and slid onto his seat next to Mel.

      “Dad is making mac and cheese with little hot dogs cut up in it for dinner,” he announced.

      June smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

      “He’ll make some for you if you come over,” Ross said.

      June met Mel’s eyes and held them for a moment. Mel broke the contact and ruffled his son’s hair. “We should get going, buddy.”

      Ross bounced up and Mel stood. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

      “My pleasure. It was nice meeting you, Ross.”

      Ross nodded vigorously, apparently out of polite conversation.

      “See you tomorrow,” Mel said. He took Ross’s hand and headed for the marina gate, where his pickup was parked with the other year-round employees’ vehicles. Maybe it was the ice cream, but something sat like a cold lump in his gut.

      “She’s nice,” Ross said, swinging his dad’s arm as they walked to the truck. “And she likes strawberry ice cream just like me.”

      Mel helped Ross get his seat belt buckled around his booster seat.

      “We should get a cat,” Ross said.

      Mel sighed and climbed in the driver’s seat, wishing somebody else was cooking dinner for once.

      No one ever signs up to be a single parent.