Читать книгу Under The Boardwalk - Amie Denman - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

TOSHA PUT HER arm around Gus, her head barely reaching Gus’s shoulder. “I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or turn him over my knee and spank him,” she said.

“You got a good aim,” the hot-dog vendor said. “I say we elect you as our official leader.”

“I’m the newest one here,” Gus objected.

“But you’ve got three bakeries,” Bernie said. “And I’ll bet you’ve got as much riding on this season as the rest of us.”

Gus thought of the payments on her business loan. No kidding.

“What do we do?” she asked, dropping into the chair vacated by Jack Hamilton. “Tell him to go jump in the lake and take his extra ten thousand and ten percent with him?”

“That’d sure be nice,” Hank said. He tugged at his butcher’s-style shirt, which had Hank’s Hot Dogs embroidered on it. “But I was planning on going to Florida this winter with the money I make this summer. Arthritis is getting to my wife.”

“If we all walk, he won’t be able to replace us in time for opening day, will he?” Gus asked.

The other vendors shifted nervously and exchanged swift glances.

“Probably not right away,” Hank said. “It would put the hurt to him for a while at least.”

“But he’d replace us eventually and we’d be out,” Bernie said. “Permanently.”

“Nobody wants to walk away,” Tosha said. “This has been our summer home for years. We all loved Jack’s father, and those Hamilton kids have practically grown up under our noses. They’re like family. Right?”

No one said anything.

“We could try threatening to walk away and see what he does,” Tosha added.

“I’m afraid he’d let us go. You heard what he said—twenty-four hours to sign the contracts. I’m not so sure bluffing will work on him,” Hank said. “His dad was an easy guy to work for, but I wonder about Jack. Can’t figure out what’s going on in his head now that the whole thing’s in his lap.”

Gus sighed. “I have all my money riding on these bakeries and the one downtown. I’m in deep.”

“I can’t afford to pull up stakes,” Bernie said. “Besides, people expect me to be here...they bring their kids to get the same boardwalk fries they got when they were little.” He spread his hands, looking around him for support. “It’s a tradition.”

“Hate to bother her when she’s grieving, but we could try talking to Jack’s mother,” Hank suggested.

“No,” three voices said at the same time.

“Virginia gets wind of this,” Bernie said, “we’ll all get etiquette lessons for the STRIPE this summer.”

“Lessons?” Gus asked. Virginia had mentioned making Gus her STRIPE sergeant, but she’d let the thought get lost among all her other concerns.

Tosha sat on the arm of Gus’s chair. “Every summer, Virginia plans and operates the Summer Training Improvement Program for Employees. All employees. Vendors, management, security, beach patrol, everyone.”

Hank nodded and grimaced. “Everyone. Part of the contract.”

“Is it part of our contract?” Gus asked. She flipped through the document crumpled in her hand.

“Page four,” Bernie said. “Already checked.”

“So, what does everyone have to do?”

“Depends on the program,” Tosha explained. “It’s usually a skill Virginia considers useful. She always insists that, whatever her crazy idea is, everyone should know how to do it just in case. She views this as more than just a summer job, wants people to take away skills as well as their minimum wage, I guess.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Gus said. “What kind of stuff have you had to do?”

“Change the oil in a car engine,” Hank said.

“Swimming lessons,” Tosha added.

The other vendors jumped in.

“Square dancing.”

“Setting a formal dinner table and polishing silver.”

“Knitting socks and a scarf.”

“Conversational Spanish.”

“Riding a horse—English and Western.”

Gus felt her tension slipping into the soft chair. She grinned. “I had no idea this job came with such perks. I feel like a better person already.”

Bernie groaned. “You gotta understand. Virginia’s serious about this stuff. You not only have to attend a series of classes, but you gotta prove you actually paid attention.” He passed a large hand over his face. “Didn’t think I was going to make it the summer we had to sew a backpack and embroider our name on it. To her satisfaction.” He looked around, a lopsided grin edging up one corner of his mouth. “You know what? I still use that darn thing.”

“How can this be legal?” Gus asked. “It seems pretty far-fetched.”

Hank shrugged. “If it’s in the contract and you sign it, you’re obligated. If you don’t play along, you’re not getting invited back next year.”

“Assuming we make it through this year,” Tosha said.

“Maybe I can help,” Gus said. “Virginia said something about me being a sergeant this year. What if she wants everyone to learn to bake chocolate-chip cookies? I could make it easy for you.”

“No way,” Hank said. “It wouldn’t be that simple. We probably have to assemble a three-tiered wedding cake and deliver it. Just in case we ever need to do that in our lives.”

“Or make a soufflé that doesn’t fall, even in a thunderstorm,” Tosha suggested.

“Or decorate cookies representing every ride in the ever-lovin’ park,” Hank growled.

“Hope not,” Gus said. “I’ve got some signature cookies planned, even ordered special cutters in the shapes of some of the trademark rides. Don’t want anyone stealing my thunder.”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“So,” Tosha said. “Sounds like you plan to sign that contract and stick it out?”

Gus fooled with the silver A she wore on a chain around her neck. “I’ve got three shops.”

“That’s sixty thousand bucks,” Bernie said. “He’s killing you worse than the rest of us.”

“But I’ve already made a huge investment in equipment, got supplies ordered. I’m in debt up to my eyebrows.” Gus tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up, meeting the eyes of the more vocal vendors standing closest to her. “If I walk away, I lose for sure. If I stay, it’s a gamble.”

“We could try talking to him again,” Hank suggested. “Maybe not gang up on him this time. He’s probably still smarting from everything that’s happened.”

Gus raised one eyebrow, twisting her necklace and chewing her lip. Hank had ketchup and mustard stains permanently occupying his shirtfront, but he had a point.

“I think we should send you,” Bernie said, pointing at Gus.

“Why me?”

“I agree,” Tosha said. “Since you’re the newest of us, you’ve got a more practical approach. Not so much emotional baggage.”

Gus considered her connection to Jack so far. She’d met him for the first time Saturday night in the parking lot. Standing next to him by the darkening bay, she’d felt a tug of...something.

“Plus you’ve got three stores here,” Hank said. “You’re a great choice for spokesman.”

“And you’re the tallest,” Bernie added, smiling.

“Very convincing,” Gus said.

They all waited for her to say something.

“I’ll try to talk to him later today,” Gus said. “I’m interviewing workers for my bakeshops in about fifteen minutes.”

Gus followed the same path of retreat Jack had taken only ten minutes before. The Lake Breeze Hotel was aptly named: its location on the lakeside of the Starlight Point Peninsula opened it to fresh air all year long. A wide sandy beach and a boardwalk were the only things between the massive Victorian structure and the water.

She leaned on the blue metal railing separating the boardwalk from the sandy beach. Bright sunshine and the sparkling lake should have made her happy, but she had a sixty-thousand-dollar lump in her throat. How could she manage it?

Movement way down the deserted boardwalk caught her eye. She turned her head just enough to see Jack Hamilton doing exactly the same thing she was. He leaned on the railing, stared at the sunshine and water, and didn’t look any happier than she did.

Gus considered marching down the boardwalk and negotiating the terms of all the lease vendors’ contracts right then and there. She’d go with honey, not vinegar, this time in hopes of catching something a whole lot more pleasant than the deal they had right now. She’d toss her hair, smile winningly and appeal to his soft side. If he had one.

She took one step. Two steps. And thought better of it. He was brooding. Maybe he was grieving for his father. Overwhelmed by his new responsibilities? Or secretly delighted he finally had the power to profit from people like her, Hank, Tosha and Bernie? Maybe he wanted to drive the vendors out and keep all the cash from the food stands. Whatever his deal was, Gus didn’t think approaching him now would help the vendors’ cause. Especially since he could probably guess who’d snapped a rubber band into his cranium only minutes before. Time might be her friend when it came to figuring out how to deal with Jack Hamilton.

* * *

GUS WAS BEAUTIFUL. And she’d be right under his nose all summer long. Unless he chased her away with his asinine contract hikes.

The sound of a maintenance cart zooming down the boardwalk reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing right now. He glanced up and grinned. Mel Preston bore down on him like a storm from the Northeast, gunning the cart for all it was worth. He whipped past Augusta, nearly clipping her.

Jack pulled off his suit coat and slung it over his shoulder.

“Roll up your sleeves, boss,” Mel yelled over the rattling of the ancient cart. “You’re going up on the Sea Devil with me.”

“Problem?”

“State inspectors. One hour. They’re several days early. They claim it’s just a preliminary, but I don’t want to take chances.”

“Are we ready? Think we’ll pass?”

“We’re gonna try. Get in.”

Jack tossed his jacket in the back of the cart, sat on the cracked vinyl seat next to his best friend and jerked off his tie while Mel whipped the cart around and headed back in the direction he’d come from. They breezed by Augusta, only inches away, and Jack’s eyes briefly met hers. It was probably a good thing he wouldn’t have time to talk about the contract today. The next time they met, it would be on his terms. No angry villagers with pitchforks waving contracts and snapping him with rubber bands.

Jack twisted around in the seat and looked back at Gus. She stood by the railing, facing him. He was getting farther and farther away, but he knew she was watching him. He finally turned and faced forward, trying to put the image of her, with the sun and water behind her, out of his head.

“Heck of a good-looking woman,” Mel said.

“Looks like trouble to me.”

“Know her?”

Jack nodded. “She owns Aunt Augusta’s Bakery. Makes cookies you’d kill for. Gonna operate three vendor shops here this summer.”

“I saw the signs in the warehouse. Our guys will put ’em up later this week.”

“If she signs her contract by tomorrow afternoon.”

“She hasn’t signed yet? Season starts in ten days.”

“None of the vendors have officially signed.”

“Thought your dad handled all that before...you know.”

Jack unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves. “My father left quite a few loose ends when he died. I had to draw up the contracts myself. I changed some of the terms, and the vendors aren’t too happy with me right now. Especially one particular baker.”

Mel glanced over then resumed navigating the rear gate from the hotel area to the back of the Sea Devil. “Never been interested in your business affairs and contracts and such, but I figure you’ve inherited about as much as you can handle.”

“Wish I could tell you you’re wrong.”

Mel laughed. “You love it when I’m wrong.”

“Makes me feel smarter. And right now, I need all the help I can get.”

Mel parked the cart under the new ride. “Wish the inspectors weren’t showing up early, but I think we’re ready. This ride’s been a long time in the works, and we’ve just got a few details to finalize before it’ll be safe enough for your china dinner plates.”

“Nice to know you’ve been earning that generous salary.” Jack punched Mel lightly on the shoulder as they stepped out of the cart and headed for the steel ladder extending from the steps on the first hill of the coaster.

“Doubt you could pay me what I’m worth, but you’re welcome to try,” Mel said.

“Let’s see how the inspection goes. I’ve got a lot riding on the Sea Devil.”

If only Mel knew just how much.