Under The Boardwalk. Amie Denman
Читать онлайн книгу.
was too early for anyone to be tempted by Lake Huron’s cold waters, but lifeguards swept the beach and set up chairs as they passed by.
“I’m sorry about your father,” Gus said.
Jack kept his head turned, watching the beach and lake. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Gus wanted to ask how he planned to manage the park and if she would see a contract anytime soon. She regretted the handshake and verbal agreement she’d made with Ford Hamilton. She’d planned to sign the papers a month ago, but then everything changed.
The financial risks she’d taken woke her up in the night, but her problems were nothing compared to Jack’s. Losing a parent and gaining a huge family business in one fell swoop? That was a sleep stealer.
“Should be a quick drop-off at the hotel bakeshop. And I bet you know a shortcut through the Wonderful West to my bakery.”
“We could take the train,” he suggested, turning to her with a hint of a smile. “But there’s a shoot-out on the tracks right behind the Last Chance. I hope you don’t mind listening to gunfire all summer.”
She laughed. “That wasn’t in the contract.”
Jack’s smile faded and he returned to looking out the window as she maneuvered the van into the hotel’s loading dock. He was quiet as they shoved the second box out and deposited it in the bakeshop.
He directed her through a back gate and she drove from the outer loop road straight into the Wonderful West. She dodged queue lines, trees and maintenance trucks as she drove on “The Trail.” A tall, slim girl with a messenger bag slung over her shoulder walked along the trail, her back to them.
Suddenly, Jack reached over and blew the van’s horn, brushing his fingers over Gus’s on the steering wheel.
“My sister,” he said, grinning.
Hand over her heart with an expression of surprise mixed with homicide, the tall girl mouthed the word jerkface as they passed her.
“That was loud and clear,” Gus said.
“Evie loves me. I’m way less irritating than our sister, June.”
“Should I stop?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Evie’s on a mission right now. And so are we.”
“Is she your...um...copresident?”
“No. Still one year left of college. She’ll work here for the summer, but just a regular job. Not as an owner. She deserves one more carefree summer.”
His voice was low and joyless, like an echo outside a funeral. Was it really so bad owning an amusement park?
“Does Evie like to bake? Maybe she could work for me?” Gus asked.
“I doubt she can bake—she certainly wouldn’t have learned from our mom. She’s majoring in accounting. Getting her CPA.”
“Even better. I might just hire her to manage the accounts for my three shops. I need someone strong I can trust, or I’ll never make it.”
“I know what you mean,” he said.
They pulled up to the Last Chance Bakery and wrangled the final oven across the uneven planked porch. Evie swung through the saloon doors just as they slid the oven into place. She had a beautiful smile and looked a lot like her brother, with a few exceptions. Her hair was several shades closer to blond and her eyes were almost green.
“I’m Evie,” she said, sticking out her hand for Gus to shake. “And I didn’t mean you were a jerkface. I know who blew that horn.”
“I’m glad. And glad to meet you. I was just talking to your brother about snapping you up before someone else does.”
“A job?”
“Managing the books for my bakeries here.”
“I would love it,” she said. “I usually work for a vendor because there’s less conflict of interest. Speaking of which,” she continued as she rummaged through her bag, “I’m out delivering contracts to all the vendors right now.”
“Gotta go,” Jack said. “My secretary’s called fifteen times and she’ll probably get on the PA system if I don’t show up.”
Without another word, Jack speed-walked across the bakery’s porch and headed up the trail to the front of the park. Gus wondered why he’d ignored the phone calls for the past hour, but she imagined there was a lot she didn’t know about Jack and his business. Perhaps Evie showing up was the convenient exit he’d been hoping for.
“I’ll come by later when I’m done,” Evie said. “This is the best job offer I’ve had. Especially since the airbrushing stand didn’t work out last year and I’m no good at scooping ice cream. Numbers I understand.”
* * *
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Jack locked the men’s room door and leaned against it, eyes closed, for a full minute before heading for the sink. Cold water rushed over his hands as he scrubbed them mercilessly. Warm water would’ve been better for washing away the grease and construction dust he’d picked up on the latest inspection of the Sea Devil, but he needed to cool off. He stared at the rivers of water rolling over his fingers, imagining all his problems sluicing away.
“Gotta get a grip,” he said. Jack dried his hands, smoothed down and buttoned his sleeves, rolled his shoulders. He refused to look at his own face—his father’s face, thirty years younger—in the mirror.
Dorothea waited for him outside his office door. Her desk straddled the space between his office and the one that was formerly his father’s. No one used Ford Hamilton’s office now, leaving Dorothea half-adrift.
“One of the vendors stopped in to see you while you were out on the Sea Devil.”
“Which one?”
“Augusta Murphy.”
Jack considered Dorothea for a moment. She had to be in her late fifties and had worked for Starlight Point for decades. Maybe if he asked her advice? Maybe she knew all the things his father hadn’t told his own son about the way he was doing business. Doubtful.
“Very tall and very pretty.”
Jack smiled for the first time in hours.
“She also seemed very mad.”
His smile vanished.
“Is she coming back?”
“Wants you to come to her bakery in the hotel. Seems to think she can tell you what to do with your time,” Dorothea said. She grinned at Jack. “I thought that was my job.”
“I planned to stop by the Lake Breeze this afternoon anyway. I want to see if it’s close to being ready for opening weekend. Guess it wouldn’t be much out of my way to see what she wants.”
“I told her not to count on it.”
“Thank you, Dorothea. I’ll see what I can do.”
* * *
WHEN JACK ZIPPED over to the hotel on one of the many loaner employee bicycles they kept all over the Point, he hoped to have a chance to talk to Gus alone. He’d been up late worrying about the vendor contracts. His father had always negotiated those, giving Jack only a vague idea of where that income fit into the general scheme of things. He hadn’t even known Aunt Augusta’s was replacing the retired baker until he’d grilled his mother over lunch downtown. Sadly, he was beginning to realize his mother had only a cursory idea of how Starlight Point ran.
Looking in from the outside, everyone probably figured he was privy to all his father’s business decisions. If they only knew. To write up the formal contracts, Jack had researched some boilerplate industry standards, pulled out five years’ worth of Starlight Point contracts and run the ideas past the foods