Carousel Nights. Amie Denman
a tragic voice, “I love your wife.”
Jack punched Mel’s shoulder. “There’s probably enough lunch for you, but no way am I sharing dessert.”
“I can live with those rules,” Mel said. He dropped to one knee and made kissing sounds to Betty, who hopped out of the wagon, threw herself at him with embarrassing abandon and rolled over for a belly rub.
Virginia cleared her throat. “While we wait, I thought we could talk about my STRIPE program this year.”
June turned back to the window, staring outside. Every year, Virginia muscled someone into running the Summer Training and Improvement Plan for Employees. Every employee had to participate and learn a specific skill such as conversational French, water rescue, ballroom dancing, knitting. In the past, the program had been mandatory. Last summer, it had become voluntary. But it was still an onerous task for whoever Virginia chose to be the STRIPE sergeant.
“Any ideas?” Virginia asked, enthusiastically. “What should the STRIPE topic be this year?”
“I’m off the hook,” Gus said, coming through the door with a cardboard box filled with paper bags and drinks. “I taught hundreds of people to decorate a birthday cake last summer. I’m still recovering.”
“And you were wonderful,” Virginia said. She cleared a space on Jack’s desk so her daughter-in-law could set the box down.
Jack approached the food, eyeing the bags but avoiding direct eye contact with his mother. June smiled at his pathetic attempt. If he thought cowering would save him, he was in for a surprise.
“How about kayaking, Jack?” Virginia asked. “The lake is one of our best assets, and you’re such a good rower. You’d be great.”
“Sorry, Mom, too busy. And I don’t know where we’d get dozens of practice kayaks.”
“Don’t we rent those on the hotel beach?” June asked. “I thought we had thirty or forty kayaks.”
When their mother turned her back, Jack stuck his tongue out at June.
“Evie,” Virginia said, turning to her youngest daughter, “no one can doubt the importance of managing money. You could teach practical bookkeeping. How to balance a checkbook. Perhaps the wisdom of investing at a young age.” Virginia’s face lit up. “Stock tips!” she proclaimed.
Evie took off her glasses and cleaned them meticulously until her mother moved on to her next target.
“June,” Virginia said, approaching June’s hiding spot by the window. Great, she thinks I’m going to teach them all to dance. Maybe I should tell her about my bum knee instead of keeping it a secret. I could use a great excuse for getting out of the STRIPE.
“How about teaching piano lessons? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone could play something nice like Für Elise or Happy Birthday on the piano?”
June blew out a sigh. Teaching two thousand summer employees to read music and play the piano with both hands would be worse than teaching the tango. “You can’t play the piano, Mom, and you’re perfectly fine.”
“I’d be better if someone would teach me to play.”
“Sorry, no time,” June said, eyebrows raised in innocence. “Choreography, costumes, blocking... The theaters are a huge task. Huge. Plus, I may have to take a short-notice trip to New York for auditions at some point. Can’t guarantee I’ll be here on the class days. You’d have to hire a substitute teacher. Could get pricey.”
“It might give you a purpose,” Virginia insisted. “Make you feel like you’re part of the team.”
June felt her cheeks heat. She wondered when the guilt trip would start. Jack and Evie were devoting their lives to the family business. Why wasn’t she?
She could explain in one sentence. She didn’t want to. She’d never made any promises and she had a right to her own career—a career she hoped would soon step beyond dancing into lead singing and acting roles. She had no plans to give that up.
“I don’t need a purpose. I have my own life. I’ve already given up my summer to be here. If that’s not enough for you, I don’t know what you want.”
June saw Evie’s face flush, probably mirroring her own. Augusta focused on handing out lunches. Jack dug into a sandwich.
Only Mel appeared willing to get in the middle of the family volley.
“Simple electricity,” he said.
Everyone turned to stare at him. What is he doing?
“Electrical circuits,” he said. “Basic wiring.”
More staring.
He accepted a sandwich and a drink from Virginia, smiling and asking, “Don’t you think it would be a good idea for people to learn something about voltage and current? Maybe wire a switch?”
Virginia swished her lips to the side. “You mean for a STRIPE topic?”
“Uh-huh,” Mel said.
“Don’t most people hire an electrician?” Jack asked. “Like you?”
“For big jobs, yes,” Mel said. “Same reason they go to a bakery for big or fancy cakes.” He nodded at Augusta who gave him a two-eyebrows-raised look of skepticism.
“But you can make birthday cakes at home,” Mel continued, “and you can do a lot of wiring on your own, too.”
Why was Mel arguing to be in charge of the STRIPE when he’d probably spent the last decade dodging the event? He had to be out of his mind. Everyone in the office was looking at him as if he’d just announced an elegant tea party in the maintenance garage.
“I don’t know,” Virginia said. “Electricity can be dangerous.”
Evie laughed and rolled her eyes at her mother. “Water-skiing was dangerous, Mom. The water rescue thing two summers ago was dangerous. Even the conversational French got pretty dicey when some of our locals tried it on the international workers we hired that year.”
“That was not my fault,” Virginia said. “French is a very romantic language.”
“Sounds like voltage is the safe choice this summer,” Mel said. “Can’t cause an international incident with that, and I’ll make sure no one gets electrocuted.”
Virginia sipped her drink and stared at Mel. “Do you think you could teach hundreds of summer employees about electricity?”
“I’d need plenty of help,” Mel said. “Some of the other maintenance guys are really good and all of them know at least something about electricity. But I still need volunteers. Guys I can get, but I’d like females, too. It’s good evidence there’s no gender bias in wiring a circuit.” Mel grinned, catching June’s eye. “Women can handle sparks just as well as men can.”
June wanted to be mad at Mel for trying to be a hero. But she couldn’t. Because she was the one he saved. She had no idea why he’d thrown himself on the STRIPE grenade, but she had a feeling she was going to find out.
OPENING 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.”