Carousel Nights (4 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

O
PENING
DAY
WAS
PERFECT
. Blue sky, a forecast of 75 degrees and a tiny breeze off Lake Huron. The typical first-day crowd was a combination of roller coaster fanatics, families with little kids anxious for their turn on the helicopters and bumper cars of Kiddieland, and locals who'd had enough of long winters in Michigan. Folks who wanted to smell and feel summer.

The newly improved loudspeakers played theme park music. Food vendors sent heavenly aromas to lure guests in.

Perfect. Except for one thing.

“We need a parade,” June declared. “Floats, music, live performers.”

Evie and Jack exchanged a look. “I knew we shouldn't have let you conduct the ceremonial gate opening,” Jack said. “The excitement went to your head.”

June giggled. “It was exhilarating. I thought the pack of preteens would break a speed record as soon as I declared the Point open.”

“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, stopping her sister. “Which columns are the good ones—red or black?”

“Depends on how much fun you're having,” Evie said, laughing, and then she turned and headed toward the corporate office behind the midway games.

* * *

“W
HO
THE
DEVIL
made this mess?” Mel thundered. It was almost ten o'clock at night. Mel would've gone home hours ago but rides shuttered for six months didn't come to life without some kinks. Opening week was a maintenance challenge every year. That's why his son, Ross, spent the week before and the week of opening “on vacation” at his grandparents' house in Bayside. Without their help, Mel didn't know what he'd do.

Without a beer, a shower and at least five hours of sleep tonight, he was on the verge of stealing one of the bumper cars and wreaking havoc on the Point Bridge.

The last thing he needed now was a mess in his maintenance garage. Someone had rearranged rolling tool chests, moved a lawnmower, turned on every light in the place and dragged an ancient maintenance scooter from its personal graveyard in the far back corner. Clanking and voices led Mel to the other corner where one of his most trusted year-round workers—Galway—was shoving a big box of stuff on a two-wheeled cart.

“What are you doing?” Mel yelled.

Jack stepped out from behind a tall rolling tool chest. “Plotting your overthrow,” he said. “I've just made Galway here the head of maintenance. Gave him your corner office, key to your personal bathroom, everything.”

Mel kicked a tire resting against a steel post. It rolled across the floor and whacked Jack in the leg.

“He can have it,” Mel said. “I'm going home. Someone else can clean up this mess.”

“Any idea how long it's been since that old beer truck ran?” Jack asked, completely ignoring Mel's outburst and pointing to a shadow in the far back corner.

“Two hundred years,” Mel said, his mood steadily worsening. “Heck if I know, it's been at least ten since we sold beer in those trucks on the midway. Don't even know why we even have one of them around anymore.”

“I think it's perfect,” June said, her voice emanating from inside the boxy truck. “Needs some work,” she added.

“What's going on?” Mel asked. He could already guess he didn't want to hear it. Especially if it involved June. From what he'd seen in the weeks she'd been home, it was obvious she hadn't changed much. She was just as beautiful. Her smile was just as wide. And her ideas remained way up high in the sparkly and expensive clouds.

“June wants a parade,” Jack said.

Mel rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.
That beer and shower might as well be on Mars.
“What's the occasion?”

Galway locked his tool chest, pocketed the key, glanced over his shoulder and quietly left the shop. Mel couldn't blame him. If he could lock up and leave, he would. But he didn't own the place and he was stuck listening to some harebrained idea involving one of the old beer trucks. On a pickup truck frame for maneuverability, the beer trucks had served gallons of the cold stuff for years on the midway. A sliding glass window on the side made it easy for guests to walk up and indulge.

“A daily parade,” Jack explained. “Afternoons. Down the midway, through the Wonderful West and out the back gate.”

“You twirling a baton and leading it?” Mel asked Jack.

“Nope. You are.”

“Kiss my butt. I'm going home.”

The back doors on the long abandoned truck creaked open and June looked out. Her hair was pulled back, but several chunks of it slipped out and framed her face, flushed with energy and sunburn.

“Plenty of room in here for sound equipment,” June said, her voice vibrating with excitement. “We could put a speaker on the roof for days when we don't have a high school band lined up.”

Mel felt the air change the moment her gaze swung to him. He wasn't foolish enough to think she brightened because of any reason except one: he was key to getting things done around Starlight Point. And she had a project in mind.

“Hey, Mel,” she said.

Mel crossed his arms and leaned against one of the many steel posts supporting the roof of the maintenance garage. “Happy opening day, June. I can't believe you're not dead on your feet.”

She smiled. “I'm used to long days on my feet. Staying up late. Broadway, you know.” She ended her explanation with a tiny shrug.

It was far more endearing than he wanted it to be. He pictured her for a moment, a brief flash where he saw June singing and dancing under bright lights, electrifying a crowd of thousands.

And now she wanted a parade.

“Long day,” Jack said. “Think I'll go home and let you two work this out.”

Mel flicked a glance at his friend but didn't say anything. Jack didn't need his permission to leave. But Mel wished he'd stick around and help him fend off June's ridiculous request.

Walking slowly toward the beer wagon, Mel heard Jack's receding footsteps, and the shop door clicked closed.

June stood in the back of the piece of junk she apparently hoped to make into a parade vehicle. Mel didn't give a darn if she was standing in Air Force One. He was tired. Exhausted from the maniacal ecstasy of opening day. There was a chicken potpie in his freezer just waiting for its five minutes in the microwave.

“You're out of your mind,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “Doing a parade every day on top of however many shows is nuts.”

“Ten,” she said. “Six in the Midway Theater, four in the Starlight Saloon.”

“Whatever. It's still crazy.”

June sat on the floor of the truck, her legs dangling off the back. “I've done crazy things before,” she said.

They were alone in the shop. Maybe this was the time to ask June if their summer romance seven years ago meant anything to her, or if it was just one of the crazy things she'd done. Suddenly, Mel remembered their awkward dance at her senior prom. He saw scattered moments as if a slow-motion movie were playing, filled with images of them together and not together. Like two magnets with the same polarity shoving themselves backward. If their charge ever reversed...