Ten minutes later, with everyone committed to their assignments, Matt called theSea Blue Beach Gazettefrom Granny’s office.
“I’m not so sure I’m on your side, Matt.” Rachel Kirby, editor-in-chief, had inherited the newspaper from her grandfather, who inherited it from his father and grandfather. Besides growing up in a journalism family, Rachel developed her reporter chops in Tallahassee and Jacksonville, and once on assignment in London for the AP. Her husband ran the printing press. They had three dogs and lived in the big house “up the hill” from the Starlight on Salty Sea Way. With no children, theGazettewas their baby.
“You’re a journalist, Rachel. Tell both sides. But you have to remind people about the history and importance of the Starlight.”
“You got me there, Matt. Okay, I’ll assign a reporter to the story.”
“Thank you. Now, how do I buy ad space?”
“I’ll connect you to our sales director. We’re more than happy to take your Hollywood money.”
The ad director was out, but his second-in-command sold Matt a full-page color ad for the SundayGazetteand a black-and-white half page for the weekdays and scheduled it to run through the end of April. For Granny. For the Starlight.
When he hung up, Matt wandered toward the rink floor, feelingsatisfied with the committee’s morning efforts. The ten o’clock session for the fifty-five-plus crowd was in full swing.
Granny wore the floor guard whistle around her neck while skating backward, talking to Belinda Miracle, a woman from her school days. Take away the gray hair and wrinkles, Granny and Belinda looked like your average teens chatting about books, or school, or boys.
Suddenly, Granny stumbled, and as Belinda reached to steady her, Matt ran to catch Granny before she brought Belinda down on her.
“How about I take the whistle?” he said when he’d gotten Granny upright and Belinda stable.
“No ... no ... Matty, I’m fine.” Nevertheless, her voice trembled. “Just got tangled up.”
“Well, I’m sitting down. My heart’s beating like a jackrabbit’s.” Belinda patted Matt’s arm and headed for the benches.
Granny slowly handed Matt the whistle. “Guess I do have a new shipment of brownies to inventory.”
“New skates? When did you order those?”
“A while back. Before I knew Harry intended to destroy the Starlight.”
Matt helped her off the floor with a growing sense of Granny’s fragility. Losing the rink might do her in.
He’d settled her in her office when he ran into Dale Cranston coming from Spike’s Concession with a Coke and bag of popcorn. He eyed Matt, grinned one ofthosekinds of grins, and kept going.
What are you up to, Dale Cranston? You think your team has won? That the rink will besmashed, leaving more business for your sticky-floor theater?
The senior session ended at noon, and Harlow arrived a little before one for the first afternoon shift. This was her third day, and she was already better than Chondra and Kenny combined.
“Long time no see,” she said, sticking her large designer bag under the ticket counter.
“Good run this morning,” he said. She’d been waiting for him on the porch when he arrived a little after five. Together they circled Sea Blue Way again, thus securing Harlow Hayes as a permanent fixture in Matt’s thoughts.
“Really? I almost tripped on a flat sidewalk with no cracks.” She greeted the couple coming in with their skates dangling over their shoulders. “How you are doing, Mr. Danvers, Mrs. Danvers?” The Danvers were longtime Sea Blue residents. Longtime Starlight skaters. They skated every afternoon, avoiding the senior session because the “old people” were too slow.
“Matt,” said Mrs. Danvers, “we’re counting on you to save this place. We had every one of our kids’ birthday parties at the Starlight from age five to eighteen. Forty-two parties. The Starlight is family to us.”
Next, a group of lobster-red spring breakers arrived, claiming they needed shelter from the sun. When Harlow handed them their tickets, the lot of them froze and stared.
“Right in there.” She pointed around the corner. “To get your skates.”
“You’re . . .you’reHarlow Hayes, aren’t you?” The girl with the permed and poofed brown hair and red cheeks was in awe.
“I’m your hostess for this skating session. Enjoy.”
Matt tried not to laugh as they walked away furiously whispering, wondering if the woman who sold them skate tickets was a world-famous model.
“You can’t keep this up forever, you know,” he said.
