“We have to be conservative with the little capital we have,” Evie said. “We’re looking for places to cut.”
“Don’t look here. This theater anchors the whole front midway. If it’s closed or cheap-looking, guests will notice.” She rested her hand on a seat back. “Bankers and investors will notice.”
“Can we get away with closing the Starlight Saloon for the year?” Evie asked.
“Are you kidding? My steampunk Western show is going to put the Wonderful West on the map. I can guarantee it will bring people to that part of the park and make them stay. They’ll get elephant ears and tacos while they wait for the train. You can’t afford to make that area into a ghost town. Kids love the shooting range and parents can get a cold beer and catch a show.”
“But the kitchen—” Jack began.
“Sucked last year, but we—you—got by. We can serve prepackaged food and drinks. Chips, cookies, cold bottles. No kitchen required.”
“It would be easier to just—”
“No.” June cut off her sister. “We can do this. Even if we have to work night and day until opening. Remember how you two ran around like the sky was falling last year on the day the vendor boycott and the bankers’ visit collided? Everyone pulled together. Augusta, Mel, the maintenance staff, a few other poor suckers I recruited. We got through it. Starlight Point survived. We can do it again this year. Especially since—” she lowered her voice with a quick glance at the stage, where the dancers and Megan were absorbed in their plans “—we have no choice.”
“Should’ve been a drill sergeant. Or a cheerleader,” Jack grumbled.
“I’d rather dance. The costumes are much better. Right now, I’m getting back to work. This old place is going to shine if I have to scrub the floors myself.”
A WEEK LATER, Mel Preston parked at the maintenance garage, which was tucked out of sight behind a fence, trees and a roller coaster. Just as he had since he was sixteen, he buckled on his tool belt and picked up a clipboard with the day’s work orders. As a young summer employee, he had changed lightbulbs, greased brakes on coasters and cleaned up messes. A dozen years later, he was the head of maintenance, writing and following his own work orders.
Usually.
He frowned at the plans on his desk from a local architect. Starlight Point had its own planning and design team ensuring continuity and maintaining a sense of history at the park. Why June wanted to hire an outside architect to design the facades for her theater upgrades was an irritating mystery.
Mel tossed the plans into the back of a three-wheeled cart and drove through the open gate onto the midway. Some members of his crew were picking up limbs that had fallen in last night’s spring thunderstorm. Old trees lined the trail through the Wonderful West, a quaint and relatively quiet respite from the coasters, flashing lights and games of the front midway.
He parked and surveyed the Starlight Saloon Theater. From the boards on its plank porch floor to the rustic marquee still advertising last year’s Western show, it was old and familiar.
A dented silver spittoon rolled out the front door, bounced down the steps and came to rest by his foot. June stomped onto the porch, hot-pink shirt matching the color in her cheeks. She lugged half a countertop bar behind her. When she saw Mel, she let go of the prop and straightened, her chest heaving with effort.
“Bring me a Dumpster?” she asked, her tone hopeful.
“Not yet. Working on it.”
June sat on a barrel-shaped chair and tapped her foot. “I’ve waited patiently for a week.”
“Patiently?”
“Well,” she said, a half smile appearing. “I have waited.”
“Theaters aren’t the only things that need attention before opening day,” Mel said. “They don’t even open the first couple weeks of the season.”
Mel propped his foot on the spittoon. He wanted to stride onto the porch and ask June why she was always running away. But she was like a bird taking handouts in a park. If he made a sudden move or got too close, she’d head for the nearest tree.
“I do have a project for you,” she said.
“Does it come with breakfast?”
“You don’t want to eat out of the kitchen in this theater. I don’t know how it passed inspection last year.”
“It didn’t,” Mel said. “So we only served drinks at this show. With all the bigger fish to fry after your dad passed away, we let a few things go.”
As Jack’s best friend and an unofficial member of the Hamilton family, Mel knew firsthand that Starlight Point had flirted with bankruptcy. When Jack opened the books after his father’s fatal heart attack, he found a mess that had taken years to accumulate. It would take years to clean up, but Jack and Evie had gotten a strong start last summer.
June fished a rubber band from her jeans pocket and gathered her long light brown hair into a tight ponytail. Although only two years younger than he was, June looked like a lost little girl sitting on a barrel in front of the empty saloon.
“I don’t think I ever got to tell you how sorry I was about your father’s death,” Mel said.
June met his eyes. “You did. You were at his funeral.”
“The whole town of Bayside and anyone who ever worked at Starlight Point was at his funeral,” Mel said.
“I remember talking to you.” She smiled and her whole face softened. “You brought me a tissue and a glass of iced water.”
Although the entire Hamilton family was shocked at Ford’s death, June seemed to take it the hardest. Maybe that’s because she felt guilty about not being around the past few years. Was that why she decided to come home this summer?
“Least I could do,” he said.
“And you’ve been there for Jack,” she said, standing and moving closer. “When he took over last spring, he needed a good friend.”
“We all do.”
June crossed her arms and leaned back on a porch post. She stared at her feet for fifteen seconds while Mel counted silently. He recognized the grubby work boots she’d had for years. She’d worn them as she helped around the park in the off-season until she went away for college. He remembered every tool she’d ever handed him and each ride she’d accepted in his cart. The owner’s daughter and his best friend’s sister who’d always been around.
“Can you tell me why the main electric switch won’t turn on in this old theater?” June asked, adopting a neutral, businesslike tone. “I have to finish cleaning in here and I need to keep working when it gets dark or I’ll never get it all done.”
Mel had never doubted June’s dancing ability, but he wished she wasn’t using it to sashay a wide circle around him. There was no question it was better that way. Better to pretend that summer seven years ago and that kiss had never happened.
He picked up his clipboard. “Don’t think that’s on my orders for the day,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m supposed to run electrical diagnostics on the Sea Devil, fix the organ’s circuit board on the Midway Carousel, and call the state inspectors about the ride license for the Skyway cars. Boss won’t like it if I get diverted.”
June snorted. “You are the boss.”
Mel smiled. “I love hearing you say that. How about once more?”
“Very funny.”
“It is funny. Because you, Jack and