by Amie Denman
“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 white tubes sold in grocery stores—made a crooked border. In the center, uncertain writing appeared to spell out Happy Birthday, Jack above a disproportionate and crooked number five. The only things that pulled the scene together were the five flaming candles and the happy family behind him.
His father, looking much like Jack did right now, held a girl who appeared to be about three. Virginia, much younger, had a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“That’s our middle daughter, June,” Virginia said. “She’s in New York City working as a dancer in a Broadway production. Our younger daughter hadn’t come along yet when that picture was taken.”
“It’s a beautiful picture,” Gus said.
Virginia looked at her, both eyebrows raised.
Gus laughed. “Okay. All except for the cake.”
They both laughed, and the sound echoed under the steel awning. Betty climbed out of the wagon. She licked her owner’s hand and wagged her tail. Maybe she knew the word cake or she just liked a good party.
“See my point?” Virginia asked. “With your talent, you could improve the birthdays of hundreds, even thousands of children.”
“That many? That’s a lot of birthdays.”
“We have two thousand employees here this summer.”
Gus’s shoulders sank. “You want me to teach two thousand people to make a fancy birthday cake?” Right now, all she could think of was baking enough cookies for one day—opening day, only seventy-two hours away.
Virginia took a long, slow breath. “Not all two thousand. Always made it a requirement in the past—didn’t want people to miss out on a good thing. But this season is different. Life’s too short to make people do things they don’t want to do. Or have time for. So I’m making it voluntary this summer. My STRIPE program is getting soft in its old age—that’ll shock some of our longtime employees, I know. People who want to learn to make a cake can do it.” She shrugged. “The rest of them will miss out.”
“I understand that the STRIPE clause is in the contracts,” Gus said.
Virginia shrugged. “I’ll take it out. My son, Jack, is officially taking over, but I’m still his mother and have some influence. Besides—” she paused and smiled “—I don’t think anyone’s going to fight me on making it voluntary.”
“I still don’t know,” Gus said. She wasn’t sure she could handle the STRIPE program, but her thoughts swung to Virginia’s influence. Could she be an ally in contract negotiations?
Doubtful. Blood was thicker than water.
“You’ll probably have only a couple hundred students at the most. And you’ll have help. I always get volunteers.”
“I’m just worried about spreading myself too thin, running these three bakeries while my aunt handles the downtown one.”
In answer, Virginia held up the picture, raised her eyebrows and pointed to the ugly cake in front of her adorable son.
“Oh, all right,” Gus said.
Birthdays tugged at her heart. They represented permanence, family and tradition. No matter what part of the country or world her father’s job took their little family to, birthdays were celebrated the same. How could she pass up the chance to make hundreds or thousands of birthdays brighter?
Virginia squeezed Gus’s arm. “I’ll be your first student. Jack turns twenty-seven on June first, which is also my birthday. Best present I ever got. Maybe you could help me surprise him with a cake. My daughter June will be here that weekend and of course so will Evie. Think you could give her the day off?”
“Sure. She’s going to be my account manager and supervise the Lake Breeze bakery, but family birthdays are more important. I’ll help you learn to make a perfect cake, but only because I love a challenge.”
Virginia laughed. “I need people like you and your aunt to cheer me up. This is my first summer without Ford in more than thirty years.” She tried to cover her tears by leaning down to scratch under Betty’s chin. “I wonder sometimes how all this can go on...but my Jack has a will of iron.”
“I’ve heard that,” Gus commented.
“But a soft heart,” Virginia added. She picked up Betty, plunked her in the wagon and rolled away.
Gus wondered just how soft Jack’s heart was.
* * *
TOSHA, BERNIE AND several other vendors came by as Gus finished stocking and cleaning the Midway Bakery. The sign crew had already been there and a large electric cookie with the name Aunt Augusta’s Midway Bakery hung over the shop.
“I should get a new sign,” Bernie said. “Had the same hand-painted French-fry sign for fifteen years.”
“Can’t afford it this year,” Tosha commented.
Gus propped her elbows on her counter. “I’m sorry. I tried to see him before the deadline. Three times. I should’ve fought harder for all of you.”
“Nonsense,” Tosha said. “It’s business. And you’re not responsible for all of us. You’ve got enough on your plate. I plan to see how this summer goes and then reevaluate for next year. Gonna take it one ice-cream cone at a time.”
“Summer hasn’t even started and we’re already in too deep to change anything,” one of the souvenir vendors said. Ricardo sold Starlight Point hats, shirts, key chains and plastic snow globes featuring the roller coasters and the Star Spiral. “Got all my merchandise ordered already.”
“One thing I’m not short on is employee applications,” Tosha said.
“Me, too,” Bernie agreed. “But I only need a few summer workers. Had to turn a bunch of ’em away this year. Way more than usual.”
“A friend in human resources told me Starlight Point was cutting the summer workforce ten percent across the board. That’s two hundred people they’re not hiring,” Tosha said.
“Apparently the new management figures on keeping more of the profits for themselves,” Ricardo grumbled. “I think they’re going to learn some things the hard way.”
“Doesn’t solve the problem of our contracts,” Hank reminded the group. “That’s what I’m worried about right now.”
“We could try renegotiating later in the summer,” Gus suggested.
“Don’t see why Jack would do that,” Bernie said, “unless it was in his favor.”
“I guess I don’t, either,” Gus admitted. “The only thing I can do right now is get all my shops ready for Saturday and hope like crazy I’ll make so much money this summer I can cheerfully hand over a chunk of the profits.”
They all nodded seriously.
“And if I don’t, I’ll chase him down and pelt him with rubber bands until he either cries uncle or names a roller coaster after me. The Zinger.”
“That’s the spirit,” Tosha said. “Now back to work.”
Gus headed for the Wonderful West and her Last Chance bakery. With her long stride, she zipped past her friends setting up their food and souvenir stands, power walked by the Scrambler and passed the old Silver Streak coaster th
at had stood by the bayside of the peninsula for forty years. Carousel music put a spring in her step and strengthened her hopes for a great season.
A bicycle bell jingled right behind her, cutting into “In the Good Old Summertime” tinkling from the carousel organ.
“Ride?” Jack asked.
He pulled in front of her on the red tandem bicycle. Although early in the summer, he already had a nice tan. His dark hair waved back from his forehead, his deep brown eyes less serious than usual.
Gus stopped on the bright white concrete, which was baking in the afternoon sun.
The ride was tempting. The Wonderful West was a good hike from the front entrance, and her hair was already stuck to the back of her neck. But the shade trees were just ahead. She could make a break for them and resist the charming and enigmatic Jack—the man who made her heart race and her blood boil.
“Depends on where you’re going,” she said in an attempt to stall and escape gracefully.
“Canada,” he answered. “It’s just across the lake.”
“I figured. Are you a decent driver? How’s your safety record on this thing?”
Jack planted both feet, balancing the bike between his long legs. Gus felt the heat even more. Why did the company owner and general enigma have to be so attractive?
“See this scar?” he asked, pointing at a small white line on his chin. “That was from my first bike accident.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-five. I’ve gotten more careful since then.”
“I see,” she said. “I’m considering your risky offer.”
“Last Chance.”
“I’m thinking.”
“No, I mean, I assume you’re headed for your Last Chance bakery. You might as well get on and save your energy for opening day. I’m hoping for fifteen thousand people. At least.”
At the thought of baking fifteen thousand cookies, Gus surrendered and swung her leg over the seat in back. She would need all her energy if his prediction came true. From the backseat, her view was all broad shoulders and tailored suit. Why didn’t he get heatstroke in those suits?
“I can’t see anything from back here,” she said.
“Don’t need to. You can’t steer, either.”
Before she could protest, the bike started rolling. Gus gripped the handlebar and pedaled, trying to accustom herself to being totally at someone else’s mercy. She focused on the shops, restaurants and trees whizzing by. She attempted to summon carefree childhood memories of racing on a bike, the wind in her hair. But she wasn’t fooling anyone. She wanted to steer that bike like kids wanted to catch Santa on Christmas Eve.
Especially when Jack careened much too close to a tree. And when he skirted the edge of a curb in front of the HoneyBee kiddie coaster. He nearly crashed into an oncoming bike, but swept to the side at the last second and gave Gus only a brief glimpse of the near disaster.
The man was a maniac on a bike.
“I want off,” she said.
“Trust me. I could do this with my eyes closed.”
“I think you are.”
He finally stopped in front of her Western-themed bakery sandwiched between the shooting gallery and the train tracks. She stepped off the bike, straightened her apron and admired her new sign as she tried to regain her equilibrium. The sign was like the one at the Midway Bakery, but Aunt Augusta’s Last Chance Bakery was spelled out in neon ropes and the cookie wore a cowboy hat.
“Nice,” Jack commented. “You’re breathing new life into these bakeries.”
He planted his feet again. Gus thought for a moment he’d put down the kickstand and invite himself in. Instead he sat and looked at her as if he were at a loss. He must have a million things to do with only days until the season started. Just like she did.
“Work to do,” she said, unable to restrain a smile.
He nodded. “Want me to pick you up later? It gets pretty lonely on this bike by myself.”
“I think I’ll take the train,” she said, sounding much more flirtatious than she wanted to.
“Too dangerous. We’re training new engineers before the season starts.”
Gus laughed and then sobered quickly, thinking of how late she’d be here tonight and how she’d have to struggle all summer to make a profit. She’d be baking and decorating faster than the spinning rides in Kiddieland.
Gus couldn’t invite any kind of a friendship with Jack Hamilton—too many people depended on her commitment and hard work. And her current loyalty was to the other vendors. Even after only a few weeks, they were starting to feel like family.
“You’re a busy man, I hear. Too busy to be bothered with lease vendors like me.”
The smile creasing his face and lighting his eyes flashed out like a switched-off bulb. Gus felt a stab of guilt at her bitter words. But they were the truth.
She walked away and shoved through the swinging saloon-style doors into her bakery.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JACK’S GUT WAS doing somersaults as he did a walk-through of Starlight Point on the afternoon before opening day. If he’d had to sign anything right now, he wouldn’t have been able to hold the pen steady. The nervous tension was like a vibrating drum in his chest, its rhythms spiking upward through his neck and shoulders.
He had done this final walk-through with his father every year of his life. He barely remembered the early years, but he had seen pictures—him riding in a red wagon behind his father as he pointed out all the changes and new rides constructed over the winter. He noticed everything—even as a child—any new sign, a different paint color on the trim of a building, a cart parked in a new location. And the rides, of course he noticed those. He was still a ride junkie after all these years.
But he was all grown up. His mother hauled Betty around in that red wagon now.
“Want company?” Evie asked, her voice and her hand on his arm equally soft. His youngest sister had always been a quiet force in an energetic house. June had tended toward fiery competition mixed with fierce love and loyalty. Evie was more like their mother. Quietly determined, strong underneath.
“I’d love your company,” Jack said. “But...”
“Don’t worry.” Evie grinned, pointing at her running shoes. “I’ll keep up.”
“Good thing. Or you’re going in the wagon.”
They walked briskly, both of them blessed with the long Hamilton legs. From the front entrance to the farthest Western-themed train station at the tip of the peninsula, it was just shy of one and a half miles. Starlight Point was a deep peninsula jutting into the lake, covered with rides, food, noise and people. A long beach on the lakeside and a curved marina on the bay side made sure the fun didn’t end where the water began.
“Are we going through the hotel, too, floor by floor and hall by hall?” Evie asked.
“That’s your favorite part. When you were little and got to come along, you used to make up stories about all the famous people you imagined staying in the rooms and walking the hallways.”
“In pretty dresses and fancy dinner clothes.”
Jack grimaced. “If you must.”
“Just don’t hide then jump out and scare me. I hate that.”
“Come on,” Jack said. “I haven’t done that since...”
“Last year.”
“Has it been that long? I’ve got some catching up to do. People will think I’ve lost my reckless charm.”
Evie was silent a moment as they passed through a park entrance toward the beach. They clunked through the turnstile and paused to watch the water as they leaned on the ornate iron beach railing.
Jack turned and found his little sister staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“I was thinking how much you look like Dad.”
“N
ot sure that’s a compliment. Do I look that old?”
“No,” she said. “Not yet anyway. Maybe after a few months in charge of this place.”
Jack laughed and draped a long arm over Evie’s shoulders. She was only twenty-one, and the six years between them made him feel protective of her, made him wonder how and when he was going to tell her the truth about their father’s debt. He couldn’t put it off forever and risk dumping a mess on his family. Like his father had.
“I miss him, too,” he said. “I wish I could go back in time and say some things. Ask some things. If I’d had any idea...”
Evie wiped a tear from her cheek, pulling back to look at her brother. “If you’d known you’d be running Starlight Point this summer, what would you have asked Dad?”
“How to do everything.”
“You already know everything about Starlight Point. You’ve been training to run it since you were born. I thought Dad shared everything with you already?”
Jack frowned and stared at his feet.
“You’ve been his right-hand man,” Evie insisted.
Jack turned his gaze to the water, not sure how much to reveal to his younger sister. Protecting her meant lying to her.
“You know,” Evie continued, “the secret trapdoors, the key to the safe, how to get gum off the midway, what we do with the giant collection of coins we find under the coasters. All that stuff.”
“I know about the coins at least. We donate that money to a local charity. Mom picks one every year.”
“See,” Evie said, smiling and patting his arm. “You’ll be fine.”
“I wish I had as much confidence in me as you do.” He tried to keep his voice light as he took her arm and steered them down the boardwalk toward the hotel.
After his father’s unexpected death, his mother had turned the company over to her three children. They were equal partners and owners. His sisters had unanimously elected Jack the leader and president because June lived out of state and Evie had one year of college left. Jack’s excitement about the leader’s job hadn’t lasted long, but his mother and sisters believed in him. And he had no choice but to keep moving forward.