Back to the Lake Breeze Hotel

by Amie Denman

  A chocolate lab with a few years under her belt, her soulful eyes had looked deep into Virginia’s own and forged a connection. Virginia had signed the paperwork immediately and driven to her small house on the old road adjoining Starlight Point, a warm nose on her shoulder the whole way. It was nice having another living soul in the house again after being alone so long. In the few days they’d been together, she’d taken Gladys for a morning walk through Starlight Point before it opened for the day, two romps on the beachs and one trip to the pet-friendly supply store in Bayside.

  “And she was already saddled with the name Gladys,” Evie said. “Mom didn’t pick that one.”

  “You could probably change it,” Henry said. “Maybe to something that rhymes with Gladys so it doesn’t confuse her.” Virginia and Evie swung their heads in unison to stare at Henry and he held up both hands. “Don’t ask me to think of something that rhymes with that.”

  “Already tried it. My brother thought of a few suggestions, but we had to reject them.”

  “I’ll use my imagination,” Henry said. “I’ve never had a dog, couldn’t have one because I was never home. Wouldn’t have been fair.”

  Virginia noticed her daughter’s look of confusion and it occurred to her that she knew a substantial lot about Henry, but Evie did not. Virginia and Henry had worked together most of the summer, grilling hot dogs on the boardwalk, handing out prizes at employee game nights and manning a table at a season pass holder appreciation night. He’d shared stories of his early years flying for the air force and then his twenty-five-year career as a commercial airline pilot. While Virginia had devoted her life to Starlight Point, Henry had been all over the world.

  “Why weren’t you ever home?” Evie asked.

  Virginia could have answered the question for him, but she listened instead while he gave Evie an account of his years in the air, his retirement and his move home to Bayside where he kept busy working at Starlight Point.

  “And what do you do when you’re not judging beautiful baby contests and keeping my mother out of trouble?” Evie asked.

  “Nothing,” Henry joked. “That’s a full-time job. But I do have a 1960 Chevy pickup I’m restoring. It’s how I avoid fixing the porch door at my house. I hate doing home improvements.”

  “Which is why I live in a condo,” Evie said. “I see now why you’ve never had a dog, and you probably never found time to have a dozen children either.”

  “No children,” Henry said. “My brother and sister have kids and grandkids now, so I’ve enjoyed being an uncle. I show up with presents on special occasions, and I’ve been lucky enough to give free plane tickets to my nieces and nephews for their honeymoons. I can’t complain.”

  Virginia thought of her honeymoon with Ford more than thirty years earlier. He’d sunk all his money into buying Starlight Point from a previous owner who’d fallen on difficult times, so their honeymoon did not involve a flight to a tropical paradise. They’d honeymooned right in the Lake Breeze Hotel. It had been substantially renovated just recently, but she still thought of her late husband when she walked through the doors into the lobby. He’d loved that hotel, just as he’d loved Starlight Point.

  She hoped he’d be happy if he could somehow see it now under the expert guidance of their children. They’d built a marina, restored the theaters and hotel and added numerous special events such as the fall festival unfolding around them right now.

  “Thanks for the water,” Henry told Evie. “I’ll get back to work.”

  As Henry picked up two pumpkins and walked over to one of the displays to tuck them in, Virginia took a close look at her youngest daughter. Her cheeks were pink and eyes bright. It was a mild autumn day, but not warm enough to bring color to Evie’s cheeks.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said quietly once Henry was out of earshot.

  Virginia guessed the news, but she let her daughter continue.

  “I’m pregnant,” Evie announced. Her feet practically danced on the pavement when she said it. Virginia pulled her close as tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so happy!”

  “We are, too. Due in March. It’s still early, but I had to tell you first before everyone else finds out.”

  “That should be in about fifteen minutes,” Virginia said. “And how are you feeling? Are you okay?”

  “Great,” Evie said. “A little yucky this morning before I got going, but I feel fine as long as I keep moving and focused.”

  “You’ll get to take a nice break when this place closes. Although not as long as usual with the fall and winter events going on.”

  “I’m worried about being a mom and running this place,” Evie confided. “Jack and June have done it, though, so I hope it’ll be okay.”

  “It’ll be better than okay,” Virginia said. “Remember, you have help. And you’ll have a beautiful son or daughter by next summer.” She hugged her daughter again, unwilling to let her go for another moment.

  “I should get back to the office,” Evie said. “And I’ll see if I can find June on my way there.”

  “Let’s have a celebration dinner tonight,” Virginia said. “My place—and don’t worry, I’ll order something instead of cooking.”

  “I’d love that. And Scott will be very happy you’re not risking a kitchen fire. You know what a worrier he is.”

  Virginia watched Evie walk away, her thoughts miles from the pumpkins she was supposed to be helping Henry arrange. She’d been so happy when Evie found true love with the new fire chief at Starlight Point. Scott and his sister Caroline had become part of their family, and Virginia was overjoyed to have more Christmas presents to buy every year.

  Henry’s shoe scraped on concrete behind her, interrupting her thoughts about buying nursery gifts for Evie and Scott. She hoped to know by December whether to put pink or blue presents under the tree.

  “Everything okay?” Henry asked.

  Virginia turned to him and nodded, unashamed of the tears in her eyes. “Family announcement,” she said.

  “None of my business,” Henry said, “but I hope it’s good news.”

  Virginia almost felt hurt that Henry thought it was none of his business. They’d become friends, she thought, with every event they’d helped put together. She wouldn’t hesitate to share her good news with him—but did he consider her a friend or an employer?

  A friend, she hoped. It would be public knowledge by noon the next day, and she felt no qualms sharing the excitement. She nodded. “The best kind. I’m going to have another grandchild in the spring.”

  Henry gave her a quick, friendly hug. “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks.”

  Virginia felt strangely lonely when Henry released her and went back to selecting pumpkins from the pile on the wagon. He may not know what it felt like to have children and grandchildren of his own, but it had still been nice to have someone to share the joy with. She wished Ford were still here. After all, this was his grandchild, too. Pain squeezed her heart when she thought about Ford and how he would never see his grandchildren, but she swallowed the thought. Looking down the sunny midway at the roller coasters and familiar sights of Starlight Point, she knew this, too, was Ford’s legacy.

  And she was lucky. He’d left her so much in their three children and their shared decades of happiness. She took a deep breath. Today was a day for celebration.

  “Try this one,” Virginia said cheerfully, tossing a small orange pie pumpkin to Henry.

  He caught it before it went sailing over his shoulder, a wide smile lighting his face.

  CHAPTER THREE

  NATE PASTED A smile on his face and shook hands with the photographer and writer. The Bayside Times wanted a story on the fall festival weekends because anything involving Starlight Point was big local news. Even bigger was the fact that the Point had never stayed open
past Labor Day weekend.

  “I hope you have your walking shoes on,” Nate said. “In my three weeks on the job here, I’ve probably logged three hundred miles.”

  He had already replaced his expensive leather shoes from his previous job with a less flashy but much more comfortable pair of black walking shoes. He’d hated giving in and chipping away at his professional veneer, but Starlight Point had long concrete midways and long beautiful beaches. The shoes were a small concession for survival.

  Many nights after running his father to chemotherapy or picking up dinner for both of them, Nate’s feet still ached despite the comfortable shoes.

  He’d arranged to meet the reporters at the front gate the day before the bonus weekends opened. Fall decorations were in place, but the haunted houses slated for the back of the park wouldn’t open until the first of October. Despite his lack of involvement with the planning—Alice was behind all that—he already felt ownership in everything at the Point. His contribution to the company’s success was the top one inch, the glossy surface that could make or break a good impression.

  “Any place you’d like to start?” Nate asked.

  “We want to run this in tomorrow’s paper, so let’s see as much as we can before lunch so we can get back to the office and write it up,” the reporter, Bob, said.

  Nate stood by while the photographer, Jason, took pictures of the front gates, where scarecrows, pumpkins and bales of straw were arranged. Even the tall letters spelling out the name of the park were festive. A scarecrow replaced the letter L in Starlight and a ghost peeked out from the letter O in Point. Orange and purple lights chased across the welcome marquee instead of the usual red and blue ones.

  The pictures were guaranteed to convey the right message. Even the sunshine cooperated as if it were on Nate’s PR payroll. There were no people with unpredictable expressions to throw a wild card into this story, just artful but inanimate objects that were easily controlled.

  “Looks like you’re ready,” Bob commented. “Any projections on attendance figures? I bet the owners are banking on this paying off.”

  Nate smiled. “Starlight Point considers itself an important part of the community and is excited to extend the season and welcome guests. Season pass holders will continue to get in free, and we hope they bring their friends and families for fall fun.”

  The reporter cocked his head and grinned. “Sounds like the official company line instead of a hard answer.”

  “It is. You know we don’t release numbers,” Nate continued. “Starlight Point is about the experience people have, and that’s tough to quantify.” He had researched the last five years of press releases and articles in local papers and magazines devoted to amusement parks and tourism in the area, so he knew the company position and agreed with it. “But if you come back this weekend, you may see for yourself how many people are here.”

  “Plan to,” Jason said. “My kids love this place.”

  The lone security guard at the front entrance held open one of the gates between the turnstiles while the group went through. In addition to a colorful spread of pumpkins and fall decorations, the midway carousel greeted them with skeletons affixed to every third horse in the outside row.

  “Nice,” Jason said, setting up a shot of a whimsical skeleton wearing a Starlight Point ball cap with its bony fingers wrapped around the brass pole. “Love the ghost riders.” Halloween lite, Nate thought. That was a strategy he could respect.

  “Plenty more decorations and thrills this way,” Nate said. He led them up onto the cable car platform, where guests would board the cars and ride to the other end of the midway. “The ride’s not operating today,” Nate continued, “but from here, you can see all the decorations down the midway. We’ve gone all out making this place an autumn extravaganza.”

  The group stood at the edge of the platform where they could see that the flower gardens down the midway had been replaced with displays meant to be enjoyed from the air. The largest circular garden just a short distance away used orange and white pumpkins to create a picture of a grinning skull. From the ground, it would look like piles of pumpkins. The trick is in the perspective.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” Nate said, smiling. “Trade secret we’d rather you didn’t print.” He paused as if he was about to reveal that the genuine elephant ears came frozen or the live show performers were only lip syncing. He had their attention and relished it for a moment. Reporters, he thought, were a necessary evil. “It’s the squirrels. They’re cute, but they seem to believe we’ve set out a banquet of autumn produce for them. We’ve already had to replace dozens of pumpkins when squirrels chewed holes in the top. We may have to hire a teenager to be full-time squirrel patrol.”

  “Lousy resume builder,” the photographer commented. “I’d hate to see that on a job application.”

  As they stood on the platform with a full view of the midway, Nate saw Alice leave the corporate office with two men. He knew it was her, even from a distance, because her auburn hair caught the autumn sunshine. She also wore a pink dress he’d seen her wear at least once before. A memory of her wearing a pink prom dress while her parents snapped dozens of pictures of them raced, unwelcome, through his mind. He was glad he’d never seen her in her wedding dress because an image like that would be harder to suppress.

  Where was she going with those two men? Nate tried to remember what was on the special events and weddings calendar. He controlled the company website, blog and calendars. Making himself indispensable and forging a permanent career—no matter what happened with his father—had been his goal when he’d first returned home. And then he’d found Alice right in the middle of his nice neat plan.

  Aside from making sure news of Starlight Point got reported on social media, news outlets and the corporate website, he tried not to overlap or get involved with Alice. It was better that way, for both of them. Not that he owed her any favors. His goal was to protect himself, not spare her. He knew she was capable of taking care of herself.

  “Ready to see the food stands and their fall theming?” Nate asked, anxious to shift his thoughts back to his job.

  “Sure.” The photographer put the lens cap on his camera and both men followed Nate down the steps of the cable car platform. They spent the next half hour checking out the menu boards for the food vendors, which included pumpkin pie and ghost-shaped cookies at Augusta’s Midway Bakery, and spiced apple cider at Hank’s Hot Dogs. At Tosha’s Ice Cream stand, the reporter looked skeptically at the fall offerings. “Cinnamon squash ice cream?” he asked.

  “I haven’t tried it yet,” Nate confessed. “I may stick with the pumpkin pie and apple fritters at the bakery.”

  He led the reporter and photographer down the midway, past the Sea Devil roller coaster and the new double coaster that had opened at the beginning of the season. The Shooting Star and Super Star combined a kiddie coaster track winding through and alongside a wild coaster for brave riders meeting the taller height requirement.

  Nate had been out of the area when it opened, but he’d seen the media reports. Although it was a risk for the park to invest so much money in an unusual coaster, it had paid off in rider numbers and increased daily ticket sales—even though those numbers stayed in the corporate office building.

  Starlight Point was on a roll, and remaining open throughout the fall weekends and then again for Christmas weekends was one sign of their fiscal bravery. Alice had talked them into the bold plan, information Jack had shared with Nate in his first week on the job.

  Funny how a woman who wouldn’t go through with her own life-altering event managed to talk the three Hamilton siblings into taking a massive risk with their family legacy. It wasn’t his decision what the Hamiltons chose to do, but the fall and winter weekends were the reason he had something to tell the media. Public relations, he thought, were a whole lot less complicated than private ones.

>   Near the Wonderful West Railroad Station, Nate had set up a family and friends picture zone. It was an idea he’d borrowed from his last job, at a large amusement park a thousand miles away. Even though he’d never thought he’d come home and work locally, he wasn’t coming home empty-handed.

  Seeing the photo spot set up with hay bales for families to sit on surrounded by bright orange pumpkins reminded him of a family photo taken when he was eight, his sister was eleven and his mother was alive. His family had sat on hay bales at a local apple farm and had their picture taken. Nate had a copy of that picture on his desk in his office. If only I could go back in time.

  As Nate and his group crossed the train tracks and entered the Western Trail, the decorations shifted from cheerful pumpkins and mazes made of straw bales to spiderwebs and glaring scarecrows. The haunted houses and spooky trails were planned for the back of the park so parents of young children would have no trouble avoiding the scary parts if they chose. Teenagers and adults who wanted to appear brave in front of their friends could bypass children’s games and experience the fall celebration with a much higher thrill rating.

  Bats swung from trees, spiderwebs covered the buildings on the Western Trail, and an arch with a creepy skull with red glowing eyes welcomed them to the Dark Trail of the Undead. Eerie music played even though the park wasn’t open.

  “Not sure I like this,” Bob said.

  “I know what you mean. It’s going to be blood-chilling and definitely not for everyone,” Nate said. He shuddered.

  “Are you kidding?” the photographer asked. “This is the best part. I’m getting a babysitter and coming back here with my wife as soon as the haunted houses open for real.”

  “You won’t be disappointed.” Nate led them down the trail, pausing when the photographer lagged behind to take pictures. “You’ll see the carousel in the Wonderful West is in the process of being transformed, and I’ll give you a sneak preview outside the shooting gallery, which will be a haunted house.”