Meet Me On The Midway. Amie Denman

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      “We used to have family picnics under this tree,” she said softly, a part of her still unwilling to give up without a fight.

      She had no idea why she was sharing that detail with a man whose next question was probably going to be whether they had a fire extinguisher in their picnic basket.

      Scott leaned against the rough bark of the wide trunk, waiting for her decision.

      Evie let out a long breath and turned her head from side to side, taking in a wide-angle view of the marina. Even with changes, some obvious, some subtle, Starlight Point was still her family’s history. Perhaps she would institute a family lunch with her siblings and her mom at least once a month at the new restaurant. Without a tree shading them, but still a meal together.

      Sometimes Evie wished she could stop time and keep everything as it was, but at other times she could hardly wait to see her plans in action. The future of Starlight Point didn’t always mean sacrificing the past...but sometimes that had to happen.

      “Since it stands in the way of progress,” she said, willing herself to be the practical columns-and-numbers person everyone thought she was, “I guess we cut it down.”

      Mel Preston pulled up in his work truck and joined them under the tree. He studied Evie’s face and shoved his hands in his pockets. Rocking back on the heels of his work boots, he looked up at the spreading branches of the old cottonwood.

      “Did you work out a way to keep this old tree?” Mel asked.

      Scott crossed his arms and said nothing.

      Evie could feel the tension between the two men, but that was silly. It’s just a tree.

      She shook her head. “The tree has to go.” She swallowed. The sympathy in Mel’s eyes almost undid her resolve. Mel had been at Starlight Point a long time. He understood.

      “Will you call the tree service and make arrangements today?” Evie asked.

      Mel nodded. “I’m sorry, Evie. Ever since your father passed, your family has had to make one tough decision after another. But look how far you’ve come.”

      Evie put a hand on Mel’s shoulder. “Thanks. Some decisions have been a lot easier than others. I keep reminding myself it’s just a tree.”

      “I kissed your sister under this tree almost ten years ago,” Mel said.

      Scott tucked his clipboard under his arm and stalked off. He entered the back door of the restaurant.

      Evie laughed. “I guess he doesn’t want to hear about family memories or kissing. It’s all by the book for him.”

      “Then I’d guess he isn’t having any fun,” Mel said.

      Evie smiled at her brother-in-law. “You should take home some of the wood when we cut this tree down. You could make a bench for your front porch and kiss my sister on it the rest of your life.”

      “That’s not a bad idea.”

      “I’m full of ideas,” Evie said. “At least, I try to be. As soon as this project opens and starts putting money back into the bank account, I’ll know how much I can afford on my hotel renovation.”

      “I thought you had the whole thing planned out?”

      She nodded. “Parts of it. Most of it, I guess. But there’s a wish list. We came in slightly under budget on the docks and restaurant here, but I’m afraid renovating a century-old hotel is going to present surprises.”

      Her construction superintendent had already warned her about the mysteries lurking in a hotel built when automobiles were a new invention. Was she making a huge mistake? Gambling on a possible payoff and a hopeful outcome just as her father had?

      “First things first,” Mel said. “We’ve got two weeks until the July Fourth weekend, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “We’ll get this tree down, open up the fire lane and finish moving the wall that’s too close to the electrical panel. The signs in the restaurant got done last week.”

      “Thanks, Mel. It’s nice to have the head of maintenance officially in the family.”

      “You need all the friends you can get.”

      Scott came out of the restaurant and balanced his clipboard on the hood of the fire department’s pickup truck.

      “Should we go make nice?” Mel asked.

      Evie shrugged. “We could ignore him so he’ll be more productive on the job. He’s on the clock.”

      “Which makes it twice as irritating when he writes up violations while he’s on your payroll.”

      “Maybe. But I’m still trying to stay on his good side because I need him to sign off on my hotel plans. And sooner rather than later.”

      “What’s the rush?” Mel asked. He kept his voice low as they both watched Scott write up his notes.

      Evie could guess what he was putting down. Inside that door, an electrical panel still sat too close to an interior wall. By only a few inches, but the inspector apparently considered it too close.

      “There’s a tight time frame,” Evie explained. “Especially since we can never count on what kind of winter we’re going to have here. Remember last year?”

      The marina project had faced numerous delays because of crippling snowstorms and record-breaking low temperatures. Windchills below zero and snow higher than the bumper of a truck made lousy conditions for working outside and staying on schedule. The hotel project was three times the size of the marina project, and weather-related delays could mean it would fail to open on time. And each day it was closed meant lost revenue. “Demo on the old wings has to start mid-August so we can prepare the ground and pour the concrete foundation before freezing weather slows us down. Even following the tight schedule Dan put together for us, we’ll barely make opening weekend next May.”

      Scott turned his attention to the fire hydrant behind the restaurant and then propped his clipboard against the wall, making notes. Even though they were only fifteen feet away, he ignored Evie and Mel. When Mel made a low grunting sound like an angry animal, Evie laid a hand on his arm.

      “I’ll go talk to him,” Evie said. “If we can work together, maybe we can get the restaurant open and start making money instead of losing it. And I think the gas lines for the docks are ready to open as soon as tomorrow if I get him to sign the permit.”

      “Good luck,” Mel said. He got in his blue maintenance pickup and pulled onto the outer loop.

      Evie walked over and leaned against the wall where Scott was still writing with a felt-tipped pen.

      “Did you see the new fuel line valve?” she asked.

      Scott nodded. Continued writing.

      “I’m hoping you’ll sign the permit so we can start selling gas to boaters right away.”

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