Free Carousel Nights by Amie Denman

“Do you ever get lonely in New York?”
    He had no idea what made him say it. The cold steel under his fingertips reminded him he was a fool for asking, for hoping for anything where June was concerned.
    â€œPlenty of people and noise there, too,” she said lightly.
    Mel circled the truck and got in the driver’s seat. “Bet they don’t have a shooting gallery where you get twenty-five shots for only twenty-five cents.”
    â€œHave you put in some time there with your son?”
    Mel laughed, glad to break the tension for the drive. He started down the Western Trail and along the silent midway to the parking lot. “I save up my quarters all winter long.”
    June drew in a quick breath. “What about Ross? Who’s taking care of him tonight?”
    Was that genuine concern and alarm in her voice?
    â€œLeft him home alone with a phone and a take-out menu. Like I usually do. Made sure he knew where the matches are hidden.”
    June punched him lightly on the upper arm. He grinned.
    â€œSleepover at my parents’ house. I don’t know what I’d do without them. Right now he’s probably wearing superhero pajamas and a goofy smile, sound asleep with my mother’s cat.”
    â€œHe’s adorable,” June said.
    They crossed the empty parking lot and took the Old Road to June’s mother’s house, where June was staying for the summer. Mel pulled into the driveway and put a hand on her arm before she could slide out.
    â€œThank you,” he said.
    â€œYou’re the one who gave me a ride.”
    â€œBut you painted that stage floor so I don’t have to find someone to do it. And you helped me finish those vending-machine doughnuts. Probably saved my life.”
    June’s smile shone in the faint light from the dashboard. “Good night, Mel.”
    Mel waited until she went in the house before he backed out and headed home. He couldn’t help but wonder...who watched over June when she was alone in the big city?

CHAPTER SEVEN
    G LORIA , THE HEAD of the wardrobe department at Starlight Point, rolled a big bin through the back door of the Midway Theater.
    â€œGot costumes for your dress rehearsal today,” she said, giving June a reproving look. “Since you keep forgetting to send your performers over to me in Wardrobe, I thought I better come to them.”
    â€œSorry,” June said, “we were—”
    â€œBusy. I know. Happens every year. Everyone wants their costumes exactly how and when they want ’em. Think they come out of thin air.” Gloria sighed dramatically and wiped her brow. “I’m used to you showbiz types.”
    For decades, Gloria had made costumes for the live shows, decisions about all the seasonal uniforms, and hemmed and altered more clothes than an army needed. In charge of laundry, fitting, ordering and cajoling, she’d shoved people of all sizes and ages into something befitting their jobs at Starlight Point. Staying on her good side, June knew from experience, had many benefits including emergency repairs and other situations where it was good to know a professional seamstress.
    June gave the older woman a long hug. “I love you, Gloria,” she said. She laughed and pulled the covering off the bin. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
    She drew out six sets of sparkling silver costumes for females and six matching vests for the male performers.
    â€œOoh,” she crooned. “These are amazing. I love this material—I knew it was a winner when I saw it on the bolt.”
    â€œYou’ve got a good eye,” Gloria said. “All the costumes are fresh and people are going to be dazzled.”
    A good eye. Mel had said the same thing about her work on the theaters.
    â€œThanks. And thank you for all the extra work you’ve done. I know we don’t usually start from scratch with every single costume, but I wanted this year to be