Meet Me at the Starlight

Chapter 7

MATT

“Can I stay here for a bit?” He sat on the back porch steps next to his father.

“Why ask? Your stuff is already in your room.” Dad peeled off a slice of the orange in his hand and passed it to Matt. “And this is your place too, Hollywood.”

Dad called him Hollywood before Tom Cruise and Top Gun had a naval aviator with that call sign. Matt could never quite discern Dad’s tone when he used the word. Was he proud or just being sarcastic?

“How was work?” Matt popped the orange slice in his mouth and flicked a touch of juice to the ground.

“Busy.” Still in his dusty jeans, plaid shirt, and worn leather work boots, Dad seemed more weary than the last time Matt was home. Which was . . . a year ago? Two years? Dad handed over the last two orange slices.

“You sound tired. Why don’t you let your crew do more of the heavy lifting? You’re sixty-six, Pop.”

“Which means what? I’m old? No thanks. I lead by example.” Leaving his work boots on the back porch, along with his hard hat, Dad picked up his metal lunch box with its large green thermos and headed inside. “I don’t have anything for dinner. How long you in town this time?”

“I’ll pick up a pizza from Tony’s.” Tony’s made the best pizza—which was saying something, considering all the pizza Matt tasted around the world. “And, um, I think I’ll stay for a while, if it’s okay. Got a break in my schedule. What do you want? Pepperoni?”

“Sounds good.”

“Got anything to drink?” Matt opened the fridge to find milk, iced tea, and beer. Good enough.

Dad washed up at the sink like he’d done Matt’s whole life. Matt watched as he wiped down his lunch box, rinsed the coffee from his thermos, and knocked the crumbs from his sandwich container. He tossed a couple of baggies and a wadded napkin into the trash before storing the whole kit in the pantry—everything in the Knight house had a place.

Dad was still lean and muscled, with a thick head of silverish hair. Matt had inherited Dupree Knight’s good looks and his mother Mimi’s flair for the dramatic.

“The mayor came by the rink today.” Matt shut the kitchen door against the heat. “Are you for this thing the town wants to do? Tear down the rink?”

“I’m not one way or the other,” Dad said. “Granny’s eighty-seven, Matt. I know she believes Jesus is going to meet her at the Starlight and skate with her on a rainbow through the pearly gates, but it’s more likely she’s going to fall and hurt herself. She still skates every Tuesday night after closing. If she fell, we’d never know it. I told her to call me when she gets home, but she never remembers.”

“Telling her to slow down or retire isn’t the same as smashing the Starlight with a wrecking ball, Dad.”

“No, I reckon not.” He leaned against the counter, towel still in his hands. “One of the fellas on the job today told me you cut up pretty good out in Hollywood. Said his wife read about you in some column. You were in a fight and dragging your Porsche down Sunset Strip?”

“I don’t remember the fight, and Steve was behind the wheel of the Porsche.”

“I’d think you’d had enough drag racing for one lifetime. You wrecked your Cuda—”

“Booker wrecked it.”

“Can’t imagine what you’re like all spiced up. You had a few beers as a teen and told everyone—”

“Don’t.” Matt stood in the opening between the kitchen and dining room, facing the opposite window, flexing his bruised hand. “I know what happened. Never mind my agent and publicist, who quit by the way, already read me the riot act.”

“Seems to me, Matt, you’re still letting things eat at you.” Dad draped the towel over the stove handle to dry. “Is it your mom?”

“You’ve been reading those pop psychology articles at the barber shop again.”

“You know my pa wasn’t around much when I was growing up. Then World War Two came. I know what it feels like to wonder if you’re loved.”

“Mom loved me. She just died before I really knew it. Besides, Granny loved both of us enough for three or four people.”

Mimi Knight drowned in the Gulf when he was two. While he had no memories of her, sometimes a soft, feminine voice hummed through his dreams.

“You and Granny did a good job.” Matt held his dad’s gaze for a moment, but mushy stuff had never felt natural between them. The ticking of the grandfather clock ten feet away in the living room filled the silence. “It’s not your fault I do dumb stuff now and then.”

“That so?” Dad reached out, grabbed Matt in for a hug, and gently slapped the side of his head. “Then I expect you to come home more than every other year, Lieutenant Striker.”

“Aha, you told me you hadn’t seen the movie.”

“Of course I have. The guys wouldn’t let me live it down if I didn’t go to opening night.”

“Is that the only reason you saw it?”

Dad started down the hall. “I’m hitting the shower.”

“Did you like it?” Matt called after him. “It was based on real events. Some of the men who survived that air battle were on set.”

Dad paused. “Your Uncle LJ would’ve been proud.”

“What about my dad?”

“He’s proud too. He just doesn’t want you to get a big head.”

Matt laughed and reached for the phone, dialing the number that was burned into his memory for all eternity, and ordered two large pepperoni pizzas, plus a garden salad, which he called the guilt eliminator.

Leaning against the counter, he decided on pickup instead of delivery, wanting to take in the town, see what had changed. But more than not, he wanted to see what remained the same. Maybe he was getting older or maybe he was sick of his LA routine, but Sea Blue Beach was beginning to feel like home again.

When he hung up from Tony’s, the phone rang. Cosmo.

“You’re still fired from the movie,” he said. “But never fear, I’m working some other angles.”

“Are you? Really?” Hollywood was a fickle town. One day you’re on top of the world, the next you’re begging for money by your star on the Walk of Fame. Was Matt losing his touch? His charm?

“Well, I’m trying,” Cosmo said. “Everyone thought you were doing the rom-com. Don’t worry, though, this town has the attention span of a gnat. Relax, enjoy Sea Blue Beach. You’ve earned some time off. You certainly don’t need money.”

True. Matt had managed his earnings well. But according to his shrink—who he’d not seen in ages—he had a high need for acceptance, which meant he never stopped working.

As he hung up the phone, Dad returned to the kitchen in a clean white T-shirt and a pair of shorts, his wet hair smoothed back.

“Who was that?”

“Cosmo. I got fired from a rom-com, and an action flick I wanted went to Bruce Willis.”

“Who?”

“Bruce Willis. The guy on Moonlighting.”

“On what?”

“Dad, do you watch any television?”

“The Rockford Files.”

James Garner as Jim Rockford was undeniably appealing. “If I ever play a suave PI like Rockford, you’d better watch.” He glanced at the time. “I’m going for the pizza.” He paused at the back door. “Dad, are you going to side with the town council tonight? Are you for tearing down the Starlight?”

“I don’t feel the same about the Starlight as you and Ma.” He grabbed a broom and swept away some imaginary dirt. “Growing up, I enjoyed the perks of being the son of the owner, I won’t lie. But the Starlight and LJ were her favorites.”

“Which she would deny.”

“She relied on him to be the man when Pa wasn’t around. I got in my mind the darn place was more curse than blessing.” He returned the broom to the small utility closet. “It’s sad, but if it has to go to make room for a better Sea Blue Beach, then we’ll have to suck it up. Besides, what’s she going to do with the rink when she dies? Take it with her? I don’t want it. Do you?”

“Maybe.”

“Come on, Matt.” Dad gave him the all-seeing eye. “You have a career in Hollywood. Never mind you only come home once a year, if that. You can’t manage the Starlight two thousand miles away.”

“You make me sound shallow.” Which was probably true. “I wanted out of Sea Blue Beach, but so did you.”

Matt had heard Granny say it a hundred times. “Your daddy wanted adventure, to see the world, but after the war . . .”

“I had an all-expenses-paid tour of Europe, thanks to Hitler,” Dad said. “Then the University of Florida.”

Dad graduated, married his hometown sweetheart, and waited ten years to have a son. When she drowned. . . end of story. Dad never left Sea Blue Beach for greener pastures. Never fell in love again.

“You know, I could keep the Starlight.” Matt pulled his car keys from his pocket. “Hire a good management team, oversee things from LA. Come back a few times a year.”

Dad grabbed a beer from the fridge. “You’ll come back for a skating rink but not your Pa and Granny?”

“Maybe I’m rethinking my values.”

“Matt, even if it was an option for us to take over for Ma, the rink would still be up for demolition. This has nothing to do with Granny or this town’s history. It’s about the future. The Murdock offer is huge. Do you know what it takes to get development green-lighted? Between the architectural plans, environmental studies, state and county regulations, and surveys?”

“Dad, if they take the Starlight, you might as well dig Granny’s grave.”

“I thought I’d bring her out to LA when it all begins. I can take a few weeks off.”

“And then what? Bring her back here to see a condo going up in its place? There’s probably not a day in her life where she didn’t look out her windows at the Starlight sign. It’s her center, her purpose, her life.”

“Harry’s taking the town through the motions, but this is all but a done deal. I’ve looked at the plans, the approvals, talked to the city council. They’re dead set on it. Eminent domain gives them complete autonomy.” He lifted the lid from the cookie jar and took out a twenty-dollar bill. “Will this cover dinner?”

“Pizza’s on me, Dad.” Matt waved off the money with a renewed sense of purpose. “I’m going to fight the city council with Granny. Save the Starlight. It should be her own son fighting with her, but whatever.”

“Watch yourself, Matt.” Dad’s face flashed with a bit of anger. “I’ve been on Granny’s side my whole life. When there was no one else, I was here. So don’t tell me you’re the Lone Ranger propping her up. If she was smart, she’d take the money and run. Travel. Go to Lauchtenland and see where Prince Blue was born, tour Perrigwynn Palace. Murdock will give her a good deal on one of the condo units, which will be a heck of a lot nicer than the rattletrap she’s been living in since the twenties.”

“If she wants to go to Lauchtenland, I’ll take her, and she can come to LA for as long as she wants. But she’s not giving up that house and you know it. Especially if she loses the Starlight.”

“I wish you’d seen her back in the day, Matt.” Dad softened with a chuckle and looked out the kitchen window toward the rink. “She was a fighter. I gave her guff, but I respected the heck out of her. Shoot, the whole town is tied up with memories of Ma and the Starlight. Remember the first time I put skates on you?”

“I fell backward and cut my head open.”

“But you still wanted to skate.”

Matt laughed softly, then sobered. “She asked me to help her, Dad. I’m going to do what I can.”

HARLOW

In the five days she’d been in Sea Blue Beach, Mom had called fifteen times.

“What’s the plan?”

“How’s it going?”

“I sent you a Richard Simmons workout video. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I found an aerobics studio in a town called Niceville. How far is that from you?”

Jinx called once. “CCW still wants you, so...”

Harlow Hayes felt the pressure. The resurrection of her career and the overthrowing of Xander’s power depended on her returning to her former self. Was it even possible to be a hundred-and-thirty-two pounds again? Or even one-thirty-five? It was one thing to be the thin teenager maturing into womanhood. It was another to shove her womanly female self back into a teen body.

She’d been so in love with Xander, enjoying her life with him and planning the wedding, she’d gained seven pounds before the breakup. But now she wasn’t in love, wasn’t enjoying her life, and her habits were hurting her more than Xander.

That was the trouble with rebellion. The rebel suffered the most.

Last night, while trying to figure out the best window covering to keep the light from the big neon sign across the street—Starlight—out of her living room, Harlow assured her mother she was working a diet plan, even spouted off details of her daily routine. She simply left out the part about it being fiction. She intended to do everything she said. Didn’t that count for something?

What caused her delay? For starters, the Blue Plate Diner. It would take Harlow Hayes a month to work through the breakfast options alone. Then there were seafood-and-steak platters and sides like fried green tomatoes and fried pickles. How could she resist? She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Growing up, she’d never been allowed the luxury to eat what she wanted.

Biggs Market, one of the oldest grocery stores on the coast, sold the thickest cut of steak she’d ever seen, perfectly marbled, and oh my word, send-you-to-heaven delicious.

And what about the ice cream shop, the Tasty Dip, and the half dozen food trucks along the Beachwalk? They all served items from French fries to hot dogs, beignets to sub sandwiches, and her favorite, the one-serving cinnamon rolls, which could be washed down with the creamiest chocolate shake.

Then there was the bakery, Sweet Conversations, which sold the best sourdough and Tuscan bread. Harlow already had more loaves than she could eat in a month. But she couldn’t resist the aroma of freshly baked bread.

Yesterday, when she stopped by for an apple fritter, the girl behind the counter told a curious tourist that the shop was named in honor of the movie Talk to Me Sweetly. What a small world. She was tempted to step up and say, I’m Harlow Hayes. I played the other woman. But when she caught her reflection in the large paned glass, she left without a word. Or the apple fritter.

So far, no one around town had recognized her, for which she was grateful. Besides gaining weight, Harlow Hayes had let her famous golden hair fade to bronze, and without makeup, she looked nothing like the airbrushed girl on the cover of Glamour or Allure.

But of all the places she loved in Sea Blue Beach, Tony’s Pizza had won her heart. Coming from New York City with the world-famous Lombardi’s, she never expected to find the best pizza ever in this little town.

Pizza with a glass of wine and the TV tuned to Superstation WTBS had quickly become one of Harlow’s favorite pastimes. The heady taste of dough, tomato sauce, and cheese along with the black-and-white reruns of Leave It to Beaver and The Andy Griffith Show restored her hope in mankind.

So, on this particular sunny afternoon, with the light cascading through the skylights, wearing the pink summer dress she’d ordered from Sears, Harlow Hayes finalized her grocery list before heading out.

In her BMW, she cruised through the pretty little town toward Biggs, barely shifting into third gear before turning into the parking lot. The late-March temperatures were leaving winter behind, and before she reached the sliding door, she was perspiring. She welcomed the freezing temps of the store as she grabbed a shopping cart and started toward the produce section.

Whispers buzzed around her.

“...look... Harlow Hayes?”

“No, no, can’t be. In Sea Blue Beach?”

“...cover of National Enquirer, and she does not look good.”

So, she’d been found out. Harlow snatched a beach hat off a rack as she passed, letting the price tag dangle Minnie Pearl–style. In Manhattan, she ordered groceries to be delivered. If she ventured out, she covered herself with long loose clothes. Winter wear made it easy to hide. But in Sea Blue Beach, winter wear made her stand out.

You’re here to get in shape for work, Harlow Hayes. True, true. Thank you, inner voice, for reminding me.

Grapes, bananas (though she recently read somewhere they caused cancer), apples and oranges, eggs, broccoli, carrots, celery, lettuce, tomatoes, light salad dressing, three cases of Diet Coke, chicken breasts (she passed on the steak, though it almost killed her to do so), cream cheese, cottage cheese, skim milk, a case of SlimFast...

At the checkout line, she kept her chin low, only glancing at the cashier when she said, “Fifty-two eighty-nine, please.”

“Did you get the hat?”

“I got the hat.”

She paid and as she headed to her car, a group of teenage girls approached. “Hey, lady, wait up. Are you—” The blonde asking the question peeked at her friends. “Her? Harlow Hayes?”

“Me?” Harlow Hayes feigned a laugh. “As if. . . . Sorry to disappoint.” She smiled, then remembered it was one of her main identifiers and toned it down. “I get that a lot, though.”

“See, I told you.”

“Wait until I see Susie. She swore it was her.”

From now on, she’d have to pay attention. She wasn’t so incognito in a small town.

At home, Harlow had every intention of grilling a nice piece of chicken for dinner and tossing a garden salad. She’d dine on the back porch with the wind in her face and a good book in her hand.

Yet instead of prepping the chicken, she flashed on an image of the girls wondering if she was Harlow Hayes. Why had she lied to them? They might have been excited if she’d said, Yes, I am. Instead, she’d denied herself, afraid they’d laugh at her. How ironic that one of her first commercials was for a body spray with the tagline Because it’s wonderful to just be you.

That’s it. Prada handbag slung over her shoulder, the Biggs’ hat still low on her head, price tag swinging, she headed to Tony’s. Pizza for one, please.

You be you, girl.

She ordered and paid under the name Glenda, then stepped aside.

Fifteen minutes later, she was back in her Beemer, blasting the air. She was about to shift into reverse when the aroma of pizza coming from the passenger seat made her whole body tingle.

Have a slice! It was intoxicating to eat whatever she wanted when she wanted. She’d never, ever had such freedom, even for a day, until she was twenty-seven years old.

Harlow grabbed a napkin from the Tony’s bag, added some parmesan cheese to her selected slice, and bit into the hot, tangy, savory cheese and pepperoni.

Know what? This could be her true self. Why not? She’d never intended to be a model her whole life anyway, let alone a supermodel or the Most Beautiful Woman in the World. Titles come and go. Beauty fades. But pizza...

Eyes closed, she rested her head against the seat and savored the crispy dough, the garlic and oregano, the creamy mozzarella.

She was about to take another bite when one high-pitched scream, followed by another, caused the slice to slip from her hand and plop against her dress. Well, shoot. As she reached for more napkins, she glanced out the window. Was everything okay? She didn’t see anything except the girls from Biggs clustered around a tall, broad-shouldered man with a shock of black hair over a smooth, chiseled face.

Harlow squinted through the windshield. He looked a lot like—oh my word—Matt Knight.

Suddenly, he snapped around, glancing her way, as if he heard her thoughts or sensed her presence. Harlow’s hat tumbled off as she shot down in the seat, shoving her legs beneath the steering wheel. Did he see her? Please, please, please...

Her head rested against the seat back and angled her chin toward her chest. A hot drip of sauce splashed against her skin, above the scoop neckline. She wiped it away with her finger, and waited, listening.

The girls’ voices mingled with Matt’s. He had such a great timbre. It had wooed her on the set of Talk to Me Sweetly ... until Xander. Handsome, charming, and fifteen years her senior, he had practically won her with a glance.

Not knowing how long Matt would chat with his adoring fans, she remained put, despite the growing crick in her neck. Might as well fold her pizza slice in half and finish it off. What was Matt Knight doing in small, tiny Sea Blue Beach? Wasn’t he filming a rom-com with Cindy Canon?

Harlow had just finished the last bit of crust when a shadow fell over her and the Matt Knight stared down at her through the windshield.

“Harlow?”

“H-h-hey, yooouuu...” She sat up, working her legs out from under the steering wheel, noticing her stained and soiled dress was hiked up to her underwear.

“Girl, what are you doing?” He moved from the windshield to her door. “You need help?”

Matt ... No, no, no ... Do not open ... the ...

Door. He opened the door.

“Look. At. You,” she said with a squirm and a he-he, ha-ha, tugging her dress over her knees, hoping Matt had not seen her rubbed-red thighs. “Opening my door like, like a ... gentleman.” She should’ve locked it.

“What are you doing in Sea Blue Beach?” He knelt down to see her face, his blue eyes sparkling with that famous twinkle.

“Well, um, I—” Forcing herself to act natural, like talking to Matt Knight from her previous awkward position while wearing a tomato-stained dress was exactly what she intended. “Enough about me. W-what are you doing in Sea Blue Beach?” Was that a plop of sauce on the steering wheel?

“I grew up here. Came to see Dad and Granny. Here, let me—” Matt grabbed the napkin crumpled in her hand and wiped the marinara from the wheel. “Seriously, HH, what are you doing here?”

Could Harlow Hayes just drive into the Gulf right now and live with the fish? Who would miss her, really?

“I-I live here. Sort of.”

“In Sea Blue Beach? Since when?” Now he leaned against the side of the car, one arm propped on the door handle, his gaze melting her more than the Florida heat ever could.

“Since last Monday, I guess.” She’d missed All My Children on move-in day, and thus a pivotal point in Jesse and Angie’s relationship. She’d been out of sorts ever since.

“How long are you staying?” The clean notes of Matt’s cologne and soap mingled with the fragrance of pizza. “And where?”

“Through the summer, I think. And I own 321 Sea Blue Way.”

“The old Prince Blue and Nickle place? Really? How did I not know? I grew up running in and out of that house.”

“So this is Matt Knight’s hometown.”

“Born and raised. Wow, what a small world.” Too small at the moment. “What made you come down, H?”

Matt had been the first person to call her by her initials. The cast and crew picked it up during filming, and by the time they went on a press junket, everyone called her by her initials. Even her dad called her H or HH now and then.

“Well, since Xander and I . . .” Tears often chose the most inopportune time.

“Right, right. Say no more.”

“He recently gave the house to me. Guilt offering, I suppose.”

“Xander’s a dip wad, HH. He’ll be sorry he let you go.”

“Let’s not do the cheerleader routine, Matt. He’s back with Davina.” Even with a pizza stain on her dress, talking to Matt Knight was easy. “So, you came home to see family?” Harlow gestured to the spot where he’d been surrounded by the girls. “Meet your fans?”

“Yes, all six of them.” She’d always loved his laugh. “I came to help my grandmother with something, and it seemed like a good time to get out of LA.”

“Aren’t you filming a rom-com with Cindy Canon?”

“I was, yes.”

“Past tense. What happened? Wait, you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s not a secret, H. But I’m touched that you don’t know. Just more bad-boy antics. Not on purpose. Just being stupid. I don’t do well when I’m not working. Anyway, then my granny called, and I came running. She owns the Starlight skating rink, and we need to save it.”

“The big hexagon-shaped place is a skating rink? It’s breathtaking. I can see the light from the sign shining in my bedroom window.”

“That’s the Starlight. It was built by a prince a hundred years ago. The same prince who built your house, by the way. A Prince Rein something, something Blue. Around here he’s just Prince Blue. He co-founded this town with freed slaves. Legend has it he landed on the beach after his yacht broke apart in a storm. The night was pitch black except for a single star cutting through the darkness.” Matt had a sincere way of telling a story. “He thought he was going to die, until this mysterious man walked out of that starlight and changed his life. Then Malachi Nickle, a freed slave, came along.” He laughed softly. “That was more than you wanted to know.”

“Actually, I love it.” She resisted the urge to touch his arm. “Sounds like the town has a special history. Who was the mystery man?”

“A man called Immanuel. I think it’s Lauchtenland folklore, but Granny seems to think it’s real—that he’s real. You should come to the Starlight. There’s a beautiful painting of him on the wall.”

“I will. But why do you have to save the Starlight? Sounds like a Matt Knight, Lieutenant Striker, heroic move.”

“The town wants to knock it down. Eminent domain. Dad says it’s futile, but you never know until you try.” His gaze lingered on her for a moment. “I’m really glad to see you, H.” His genuine tone nearly undid her. “What’s your plan while you’re here?”

“Same as you.” She looked over at the pizza box. “Attempt to do something futile.”