Inside the wide lobby with images of past skaters on the wall, Caleb bought two tickets and passed one to Emery as she studied the rink’s memorial wall.
“Who are all of these people? This wasn’t here in ’09.”
“Stars of the Starlight. In one of the rooms at the museum, they have even more.” Caleb pointed to a black-and-white of a lovely older woman. “That’s Tuesday Knight. She ran the place for years. In my parents’ day, not mine.”
“Right. Her grandson is Hollywood A-lister Matt Knight who’s married to Harlow Hayes.”
“I met her once,” Caleb said. “Long time ago. I was a kid and remember thinking she was really nice.” He pointed to a photo of Simon. “He’s standing with Spike, who ran the rink after Tuesday. Then he retired and handed it over to Simon, who managed the expansion of the Hayes Cookie franchise across north Florida.”
“Do you think Matt Knight and Harlow Hayes might be helpful in this town strife?”
“Simon’s the one to ask. But I saw a headline on the cover ofPeoplesaying they were filming a movie in Europe.”
Caleb greeted a few folks he knew in high school who now had children, a couple even in Bentley’s class. He selected a pair of brown rentals with Emery and laced them on at the benches.
“Don’t laugh if I fall. I’ve not done this in eons,” she said.
“Don’t get mad if I trip over you when you fall. I’ve not done this in a long time either.” Yet he was ready to go, ready tomove, cleanse his soul of even considering Mac’s idea.
Kool and the Gang’s “Good Times” came on as they hit the floor. The shufflers whizzed past. Caleb was tempted to join them, but he wasn’t ready to make a complete fool of himself in front of Emery just yet. The Ferris wheel incident was enough for now.
When the two of them had gone around for few songs, some fast, some slow, Emery said, “Caleb, what did you mean Tuesday handed the rink over to Spike and Spike to Simon? Sounds more like management than ownership.”
“You should look up the story in theGazettearchives. I can’t remember all the details, but when they tried to knock down the Starlight to start development to the west, Tuesday, Matt, and Harlow stood in the way. Turns out one of the descendants of Malachi Nickle—Bodie or Booker, one of them—knew the rink and the land belonged to the Royal House of Blue.”
“And that ended the demolition plan?”
“That ended the demolition. Of course, they found other ways to expand, which has been good for the town. Until now—”
“When they want to come east,” Emery said. “Any chance the Original Homestead is deeded to another country?”
“It was only the Starlight. The West End has a lot of power, and if Mac, Alfred, and Bobby are determined to consume the East End, not even the House of Blue can help us. Maybe breaking away, becoming their own municipality, would be best for all.”
“You don’t mean that, Caleb.”
“No, I don’t.” He wobbled a bit going around the turn as he glanced over at her. “To be honest, I don’t think they do either.”
EMERY
On Thursday morning, she rode one of the motel’s beach bikes down the Beachwalk for a breakfast burrito from the taco truck. Next she grabbed a latte from One More Cup, then sat on a bench to watch the sunrise.
The air was crisp and cool, slipping around her legs and through her hair. The calm Gulf reflected the colors of the dawn, and being by the sands of Sea Blue Beach was heaven.
She washed down a bite of burrito with a sip of her latte and wrestled with an idea, one she’d had for a while now. But was it a good idea? Since she’d never had one like this before, nor did she know anyone who did, her reference points were nonexistent.
Just do it. No guts, no glory. With those clichés rattling around in her head, she finished her breakfast and let her thoughts drift to Caleb—which was happening more often than not these days. Skating with him had been fun. When he held her hand for the couple’s skate, she felt sixteen again.
Snippets of their long-ago summer would come to mind while she worked on theGazette’sbudget or while cooking dinner. In so many ways, he was the same Caleb Ransom who made her laugh, who made her do crazy things like trash a football field and fall in love. Yet so far he’d not made any kind of romantic move.
Her phone pinged with an incoming text.
Ava:
Just thinking of you. Thanks again for putting up with my crazy.
Emery:
Any time.
