Carousel Nights

“She’s nice,” Ross said, swinging his dad’s arm as they walked to the truck. “And she likes strawberry ice cream just like me.”

Mel helped Ross get his seat belt buckled around his booster seat.

“We should get a cat,” Ross said.

Mel sighed and climbed in the driver’s seat, wishing somebody else was cooking dinner for once.

No one ever signs up to be a single parent.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_2131729e-9f04-5cb6-aa8a-5551c98d646b)

JUNE UNLOCKED THE doors at the Starlight Saloon Theater and swung through them. Dust swirled in the shafts of early-morning light that came through the windows.

There’s no way this theater will be ready in less than a week. Her performers, yes. The costumes, probably. The venue? Sigh.

She heard a truck pull up in front. The park wasn’t open until ten, but trucks drove all over the midways ferrying supplies in the early morning. June stepped outside. It was the delivery she’d hoped for.

Mel Preston, in maintenance blue as always, unloaded rollers, brushes, seven gallons of paint and two short ladders onto the porch of the Western-themed saloon and dance hall.

“Good luck,” he told Gerry, a summer worker dressed like Mel but probably just old enough to drive. “I think you’re going to earn your minimum wage today.”

“I’ll have help, right?”

“June Hamilton’s in charge of this project,” Mel said, gesturing to June, who was already picking up cans to haul inside. “You’ll have to ask her.”

June paused and smiled at Mel. “You could stick around and help us if you want.”

Mel raised an eyebrow and leaned against the side of his blue maintenance pickup with Starlight Point in white letters on the door. “Cleaning and painting this old barn is not on my list for the day.”

“I could offer ice cream.”

He shook his head, chuckling.

June crossed her arms over her chest. “You’d probably nail the doors shut if it were up to you.”

He nodded. “It would be the easiest thing to do considering I have to finish running about ten miles of new wire in there.”

“So that’s today’s plan? Should we wait up?”

Mel laughed. “That’s a three-day plan for a team of electricians.”

Was it really a three-day job? This theater was scheduled to open on Saturday. And today was already Monday. Maybe she should have stayed in New York for the summer.

“Better get started, then,” she said cheerfully, hoping there was a chance Mel was exaggerating.

Mel reached through the open window of his truck and picked up a clipboard from the seat. He flipped through several papers, studying them. June suspected he was stalling for some reason.

He finally tossed the clipboard back through the window. “The wiring supplies have been delivered. I’ll have to grab them from the warehouse, but I might as well start today. Having Gerry here is good because he can give me a hand pulling wire if I need it.” Mel smiled at Gerry. “You might end up learning to be an electrician. That’s how it happened to me.”

When Mel drove off, June headed inside to tackle the kitchen area of the saloon. Getting a drink—or anything—from this kitchen would involve a major flirtation with a health-code violation. No wonder Jack and Evie had chosen to close the kitchen last year. Scrubbing and rewiring might earn a passing grade from the health department later in the week, but it would not be easy.

Nothing was easy.

Mel claimed he had a serious wiring job, but she had work in spades, too. Ramping up the sleepier part of the park with her high energy steampunk show was just what the Point needed. People would come for the show, and then stop by the food stands, games and shops before boarding the train or walking up the trail to the front midway. A great return on investment in the Wonderful West would make Evie and Jack happy and prove the value of quality live theater.

Not that they really doubted the need for live shows and the power of their draw. But June felt like they doubted her. They never said it out loud, but they treated her like a hummingbird they’d caught in a net.

“What do I do first?” Gerry asked.

June turned to consider the saloon. She walked to the control panel behind the bar and flipped a master switch. Lights—courtesy of Mel’s quick repair job last week—buzzed on throughout the room and over the stage.

“Lights. Awesome,” Gerry said. “I was afraid we’d be painting in the dark.”

“It’s old, but not totally in the Dark Ages,” June said. “I heard you had some painting experience. That’s why I asked for you. I could sure use the help.”

“Yep. Painted houses with my dad the last two summers. He does interior painting in the winter, exterior in the summer.”

“He’ll miss having your help this year.”

Gerry nodded and looked at his shoes. “I know. But I just didn’t want to work in the family business another year. Thought it would be fun to branch out a little.”

June smiled. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

* * *

MEL ROLLED HIS shoulders and ran a hand through his dusty, disheveled hair. The good news was that someone—at some time—had run some new conduit in the Starlight Saloon. That meant he could tie into it and not spend the next three days trying to battle an ancient wiring schematic. Making this theater usable for the summer wouldn’t be the major undertaking he’d expected. Throughout the day, Gerry had pitched in between painting walls and muscling junk into an outside Dumpster.

The bad news was that the job was only three-quarters done but he needed food and a shower too bad to continue.

At seven o’clock, he gave up and loaded his tools in his maintenance truck. He had to put in an hour’s worth of work at the garage and then it would be lights out. Although it wasn’t his parents’ usual day to keep Ross, he’d called them hours ago to pick up the boy from day care at the Lake Breeze. They were used to such calls during the operating season. Ross was probably curled up on his grandpa’s lap right now watching television. Reruns of old black-and-white TV shows. Lucky kid. If Mel got out of here before it was very late, he’d pick up Ross so he could sleep in his own bed.

The hour in the maintenance garage stretched to three, courtesy of a mess made by one of the new hires and an emergency call to a food stand with no power. The food stand was in the Wonderful West, which had just closed. Employees and security guards were sweeping the guests toward the front, so Mel drove his personal truck along the vacant midway, hoping to make a quick fix and head straight home.

The restaurant’s power problem was an easy fix, a tripped breaker. Mel headed for his truck, pajamas and bed becoming more inviting by the moment. He could almost taste the leftover pot roast his mother would have waiting in plastic containers.

However, as he drove past the Starlight Saloon, he noticed a light on inside. He stopped and got out of his truck, cursing whoever left the light on—probably June.

It was definitely June. Because she was still there, alone on stage. On her knees working her way across the stage with black matte paint. Mel paused in the doorway, watching as she rolled paint onto the floor.

“You’ve put in a long day,” he said quietly, afraid to startle her and end up wearing a bucket of paint.

June laid the roller in the tray and sat back. “You have, too,” she said. She used the inside of her elbow to brush stray hair off her cheek. “I thought you were headed for food and a shower three hours ago.”

“I was, but I had to do some cleanup in the maintenance garage. Where’s Gerry?”

“I sent him home after you left. He worked hard today, and he seemed happy to leave.” June smiled. “I think maybe he had a date. Or he was starving.”

“When I was his age, I was always starving,” Mel said.