Meet Me On The Midway. Amie Denman

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СКАЧАТЬ and moved to Arizona. They think Scott keeps an eye on me so they can be happy in the sunshine.”

      “Lucky for them,” Evie commented.

      “I was looking for a summer job and some of the guys in my police academy class told me about working security here. I thought it would be good experience. Maybe I’ll come back and be a bonded officer next year.”

      “That sounds terrific,” Evie said. “We could use a full-time female officer on our department. Do you live with your brother in Bayside?”

      “No,” Caroline said, sending Scott a crooked grin. “I live in the employee dorm by the marina.”

      “Really?” Evie turned a raised-eyebrow glance on Scott. “What do you think of the dorms?”

      Scott wasn’t sure if the question was directed toward him or his sister. Caroline saved him by jumping in.

      “It’s fun. Like living in a college dorm. But I don’t want to say too much in front of—” she jerked her head at Scott “—you know who. He already hates the fact that I’m living in the dorms instead of staying at his house where I’d be expected to brush my teeth and go to bed at nine o’clock every night.”

      Evie laughed. “During the summer, I’m lucky to be in bed by midnight.”

      No one said anything for a minute, the silence awkward in the loud cafeteria buzzing with conversations all around them.

      He should say something. Ask her how her day was going. Mention the weather. Ask her when the tree obstructing the fire lane at the marina restaurant was coming down.

      “I heard we’re expecting a record crowd this weekend,” Caroline said. “I’m on toll booth and traffic duty on Saturday.”

      Evie laughed. “Good luck. Saturday mornings around ten are notorious. People have been driving for hours. They’re hungry. The kids in the backseat are picking at each other. They hate the way our cones are set up. They don’t want to pay for parking. It gets ugly.” As she listed the problems, she ticked them off on her long fingers.

      “I may ask to be reassigned.”

      “No way. We need someone rational at the toll booths when tempers flare,” Evie said. Her smile turned serious. “But you have to be careful. We’ve had officers and traffic attendants hit by cars. It’s a dangerous combination of orange cones, heat, anticipation and horsepower.”

      Scott pictured a station wagon mowing down his sister.

      “Why can’t you work in Kiddieland instead?” Scott groaned.

      “Are you kidding?” Evie asked, meeting his eyes, a smile lighting her face. “You should see the stuff that goes down there. Parents fighting about the strollers, kids cutting in line for the motorcycles. And the crying. Holy smokes. The crying. I stay far away.”

      “Little kids give me the willies,” Caroline said. “I’m never having any.”

      “You’re not?” Scott asked. When had his sister decided that? Sure, she wasn’t dating anyone—at least not anyone he knew of—but she wanted a family. Didn’t she?

      Did he? Maybe it was just an abstract idea right now...

      “I’m going to try being an aunt first,” Evie said. “When my brother’s baby arrives this summer, I’ll see how I do at that. Right now, I’m headed West for a showdown. See you later, if I live.”

      She picked up her drink, directed a tentative smile at Scott and wound through the tables on the way to the door. Scott watched her stop and exchange quick greetings with several staff members. She left the building and passed in front of the wall of windows, her long blond hair picking up the sun.

      “She’s so nice,” Caroline said. “And lucky. I can’t imagine owning this place. What a fun job.”

      “I’ll bet it’s harder than you think,” Scott said. “And when did you decide you’re never having kids?”

      “Yesterday. When I was stuck on patrol at the entrance of the kiddie coaster.” She shook her head and forked some lettuce. “It was horrific.”

       CHAPTER FIVE

      “DOES THE TREE have to go?” Evie asked. She shaded her eyes and looked up at the century-old cottonwood that guarded the new marina restaurant building, hanging over it from behind like a protective parent.

      “You need a wider fire lane,” Scott said. “The tree is too close. It could block trucks and be a hazard.” He shrugged. “It’s just a tree, right?”

      “Yes,” Evie said.

      Scott drew his eyebrows together and scowled at her. Why does he have to be so grouchy about it?

      “I don’t see why this is a problem,” he said.

      “I love that tree. It’s visible all the way across the parking lot from my house.” She paused. “My former house.”

      “And?”

      “And it’s part of the skyline. Skyline that is not just roller coasters and rides.” She squared her shoulders. “I have happy memories of that tree, okay?”

      “Okay.”

      Before the restaurant was constructed over the past winter, boaters, day visitors and employees in the nearby dorm had come here for picnics. There was even a storage area for coolers and a dozen picnic tables. Sometimes on summer days when Jack, June and Evie were growing up, their mother would pack a cooler and the family had lunch in the shade of the tree. No matter how hot and sunny the weather was, it was cool and shady under the tree.

      She could picture Jack swinging his long awkward legs over the bench. Her sister, June, kicking Jack under the table. Her mother handing out sandwiches, each of the plastic bags marked with a sticker denoting its intended recipient. Evie’s stickers were green, to match her eyes her father said. She pictured her dad taking off his suit jacket and cracking open a soda from the cooler. He’d always stay long enough to eat and talk for a few minutes, but then it was back to work.

      Evie had longed for the day when she’d go to work with him.

      The family picnics probably only happened three times a summer, but in Evie’s childhood memories, it seemed more often. Her father was gone now. And the picnic tables, too. But the tree remained. A tree that had been on the peninsula before all the swirling rides and flashing lights. It was a piece of history.

      “Sometimes,” Scott said, interrupting her thoughts, “you have to let go of the past.”

      If he had said it in a negative or even practical tone, she might have bristled. But his words were quiet, as if they were unintentionally spoken aloud. As if he’d meant them for himself.

      She glanced at his face. His cheeks and neck were red. The tips of his ears, visible under his close-cropped hair, were pink.

      Interesting. What was in his past that made him СКАЧАТЬ