“There’s a certain cachet to being the first in line at the Sea Devil,” Jack said. He cracked his knuckles. “I already rode it twice yesterday, but I won’t tell the coaster fanatics. It’d burst their bubble.”
“I haven’t been here on opening day in seven years,” June said. “I forgot about the adrenaline.”
“I’m glad you’re here this year,” Jack said. His expression sobered and he slung an arm around both his sisters. “We’re in this together.”
Evie leaned into the hug. “I know,” she said. “I miss Dad the most on days like this.”
June felt tears prick her eyes and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Standing off to the side and watching guests stream through the gates, June, Evie and Jack did a paradoxical combination of holding their breath and deep breathing.
“Off and running,” Evie said. “If we made it through last year, we can make it through anything.”
They watched parents with strollers moving at the back of the pack. Older people with no ride-crazed kids dragging them forward sauntered along. They’d be the first to notice new paint, signs, different offerings in food and merchandise. Everyone else was headed for the queue lines, ready for a coaster fix after a long winter.
June kept her eyes on a couple roughly her parents’ age, holding hands and looking around, pointing things out to each other. Laughing. Really noticing the sunshine and the flowers planted in a pattern that would look best from the Skyway cars above. She wondered how many years they’d been coming to Starlight Point. Maybe they’d met here when they were teenagers and had already raised a family, coming to the Point every summer and making albums of memories. Her vision blurred and her eyes stung a little. She shook it off. For all she knew, it was their first date and they’d met on a seniors gambling bus tour.
“A parade would be perfect for the midafternoon doldrums,” June said. “You know. Three o’clock when the buzz wears off a little and the sunburn starts stinging. Kids get all cranky and parents are looking for a mood-changer. They could line up for a parade.”
“I thought they were going to fill the seats in your theaters. Soak up the air-conditioning,” Jack said. “A parade is the opposite.”
“No, it isn’t,” June said. “It takes the show to the people. Live music, costumes, dancing. Maybe we could have a banner made up, advertising showtimes in the theaters.”
Evie and Jack glanced at their sister and returned to counting the guests streaming past.
“Everyone loves a parade,” June added.
Evie shrugged.
“Maybe next year,” Jack said. “If we’re lucky, you’ll forget all about it.”
“I’m serious.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“How hard would it be to jazz up the high school band thing that’s been going on for years?” June asked.
Every summer, high school bands from all over the state applied for a day at the Point. Band members got free admission in exchange for two performances. They played the national anthem at the front gates at park opening and marched through the park at some point in the day. Decent deal for the high school kids, probably hellish for the chaperones and a vague return in live entertainment for the Point.
“We standardize the time of their marching performance—say three o’clock every day—and add some other stuff,” June said.
“Opening day fever has gotten to you,” Evie said. “It’s a lot of adrenaline to handle, and I forget your immunity is down. You probably think you can do a triathlon right now.”
“Or at least name all fifty states and their capitals,” Jack said.
“Everything seems possible on opening day,” Evie said. “It’s the family curse. It makes us commit to a lifetime of insanity, one hundred days at a time. And then spend the other two thirds of the year wondering what the heck we were thinking. It’s a Vegas-wedding way to spend your life.”
“But you love it,” June said.
Evie smiled and waved to a little girl shoving an umbrella stroller with her doll in it. “Of course I do. I’d be crazy not to.”
“And you love my idea of a parade.”
“Maybe,” Evie said. “I’d have to see how it looks on paper.”
“I’ll take a picture of it going down the midway and email it to you.”
Evie cocked her head and blew out a long sigh. “You can’t just pull something like this out of your hat.”
“Sure I can. It won’t be that hard to put together a float, get some of my dancers to ride along and entertain, maybe a banner. I just need a theme and I’m good to go.”
“But—” Evie protested.
“Listen. I own this place,” June said, smirking. “I can pull this off if I want to.”
“One-third,” Evie said. “You’re not even a simple majority.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair and loosened his tie. “If you want a controlling interest, you can have my share,” he said, heading straight for Aunt Augusta’s bakery on the midway, a beacon of sugary hope under a pink awning.
“How does he stay so skinny?” June asked.
“He’s in love,” Evie said.
June and her sister stood side by side watching hundreds of guests continue through the front gates. From their position on a small raised bandstand, they could also see over the front ticket counters to the Point Bridge, where cars waited at the toll booths. Sunlight flashed off windshields, and the line of vehicles stretched all the way to Bayside.
“And how about you?” June asked. “Anyone you’ve got your eye on?”
Evie shook her head. “I’m married to Starlight Point right now. I’m trying to get the red ink and the black ink to pick out china patterns together.”
“Might do you some good to get out of the office every day. You might meet people. Maybe around three o’clock?”
“Nice try.”
“I’d let you wear a sparkly sash and carry the banner,” June said.
“I think I’ll stay in the office and be the adult in charge.”
June raised her arm and did a perfect beauty pageant wave, nodding and smiling at her sister.
“You’re perfect for the job,” Evie said. “You’ve got more drama in one arm than I’ve got in my whole body.”
June laughed. “Someday, that’s going to change.”
“You mean you’re going to give up the stage?”
“Nope,” June said, “I mean you’ll get in touch with your inner drama queen one of these days.”
“Doubt it,” Evie said. She glanced at her smartphone and tucked it back in her skirt pocket. “You can have two thousand bucks to get your parade going. That has to cover float, costumes, everything. It’s the best I can do.”
“I’ll take it. I might even do it for less and spend the rest on a spa day for us.”
“Rain check on that until November.”
“No good. You’ll be insane by then and I’ll be in New York.”
Evie shoulder-hugged her sister. “I wish you’d stay. No matter how expensive your plans are.” She smiled at June and started to walk away.
“Evie,” June said,