Meet Me at the Starlight

Chapter 12

HARLOW

When her alarm buzzed at five in the morning, she rolled over and slapped the off button. Yeah, this jog was not happening.

She’d never been athletic, let alone a jogger. When she shot a sneaker commercial in the early eighties, they hired a coach to help her move like an athlete.

Burrowing under the covers, the memory of that job resurrected the reality that so much of her life was fake. She was airbrushed, dressed, and posed to look like an image in someone else’s mind. A corporate view of beauty.

The only thing she’d ever earned—a word she used loosely—was the title of Most Beautiful Woman in the World. Producers, editors, and fashion industry folks around the world decided each year’s Most Beautiful. When they named her, it was humbling. She attributed most of her success to Mom, good luck, and good genes, but her hard work and dedication earned her the Most Beautiful title.

However, that was then, and this was now. Time to get her day going. Stop stalling. She had to punch in at the Starlight later today. Well, in that case, she should really sleep in. Cuddling her pillow, she’d just drifted off when a startling knock rattled her door.

“H, you up? Let’s go.”

Matt? What was he... ? No, surely not. He wasn’t that insane. Though she had mentioned a five a.m. jog to him as she left the Starlight yesterday.

“Harlow Hayes, wake up!”

She grabbed her robe and headed downstairs. “You’re rude, you know that?”

“You’re not ready?” He clapped his hands as he came inside, spilling the light into the dark morning. “Let’s go, let’s go.” He wore shorts, a Flight Deck T-shirt that fit his muscled chest, and a pair of Adidas.

“Remember when I said Harlow Hayes doesn’t skate? She also doesn’t jog. It only sounds like a good idea. I see people jogging and think, ‘That might be fun.’ But that’s the whole of it, Matt.”

“It is fun. Come on, H, you’ve got the legs for it.”

“Had, Matt. Had.”

“How about we go around the block once? You can do it.”

“I don’t know.” She tightened the belt of her robe and leaned against the sofa. “I feel like ...” Should she just say it? Be honest? “I feel like I’d be the first elephant to jog in Sea Blue Beach.”

“H, please. You are not an elephant. Second, a carnival came through a few years back and their elephant escaped. Ran right down Sea Blue Way.”

“I’m going to need photographic evidence.” But he made her smile.

Matt leaned next to her. “Okay, maybe a carny elephant never ran through town, but tell me why you want to start jogging. Why’d you try to fake me out the other day?”

“Because—” She peered at him. “CCW wants me as their next It Girl. I have to lose weight.”

“Do you want to lose weight? Be their It Girl?”

“I’d like to be more of my former self, prove all the mess with Xander no longer has power over me. I’ve not aimed for much in my career, but CCW is a job I’ve always wanted. However, I ate my way out of one job after another because that yahoo broke my heart.”

It was easy to be vulnerable in the predawn hours.

“Then get dressed. Let’s go. One trip around the block. Hey, you can be the first Most Beautiful Woman in the World to jog in Sea Blue Beach.”

“That’s not me anymore, Matt. I’m the punch line of comedy sketches and the cover girl for tabloids.”

“H, look at me. I’ve been in LA a long time, and I know real beauty is about more than what you look like. It’s about who you are. Do you want to make some improvements? Great. We all do. But don’t define yourself by a few pounds. Now, go change. Didn’t you say you wanted the CCW job? Wanted to prove Xander doesn’t have power over you?”

“Fine.” Nothing like talking to a guy who made sense. Who used her own words against her. “Give me five.”

Once she was in her cut-up sweats and T-shirt, Matt led her through a few stretches, then started a slow pace down the street through the dawning morning, where late winter’s thinness lingered in the spring air. She was halfway down the street before she realized every limb, every muscle, ached.

“Doing great, H.” Matt stopped at the end of Sea Blue Way. “Let’s cross and go up the other side, then back to your house. A half mile.”

“A half a mile?” If Harlow Hayes learned anything through modeling, it was perseverance.

“Are you looking forward to your shift at the Starlight?” Matt said without so much as a huff or puff.

“Yeah.” Gasp, huff, puff, gasp, gasp. “Tired of ... cooped up ... house. Bored.”

By the time Matt jogged up her sidewalk, she was a sweaty mess, and the pain in her side might require a trip to the ER. Matt joined her on the concrete steps to cool down.

“Don’t run tomorrow. Just walk,” he said. “Pick up running the next day. Try to go a little farther.”

“I take it you’re not going to bang on my door at five.”

“Maybe.” She felt his smile all the way to her backbone and down to her toes. Harlow Hayes, careful. He’s out of your league. “I know you said you don’t skate, but it’s great exercise. Easy on the joints.”

“Harlow Hayes is going to need this face for CCW. Can’t risk skidding across the rink floor.” She patted him on the shoulder and started inside. “HH is going back to bed. See you this afternoon, boss.”

“One o’clock. Punch in on time or I’ll have to dock your pay.”

MATT

The Save the Starlight group reconvened the last Saturday in March. Dion was able to join this time, so their ranks swelled to six. Got to say, Matt was disappointed more townspeople didn’t show, especially on a weekend morning. Granny deserved better from her fellow citizens.

Gathering folks to help the petition campaign was the one place Matt had counted on his celebrity power—after all, fans traveled to California from around the world for a chance peek of him. But in Sea Blue Beach, he was just Tuesday’s grandson and Dupree’s kid.

However, Mary and Tyler, Spike and Dion, and even Granny, assured him folks were eager to save the Starlight.

“Where are we on the petitions?” He looked at Tyler. “And the flyers?”

“Sorry, Matt, I had a big job come in from the high school for prom and graduation. My crew has been working overtime.”

“Understandable. Can you get to it this week? Mary, what about the petition? Did you file the paperwork?”

“Got busy myself. I’ll file on Monday. Remember, forms can only be posted at city hall and the post office.”

Okay, the Save the Starlight team was fumbling a bit.

To be honest, he was a bit distracted himself with Harlow Hayes crossing his mind at random intervals. Last night, he set his alarm to wake up for a jog, then fell asleep thinking about her.

He never let women sneak up on him, get into his head and dreams. But the supermodel was not just any woman.

“Did you talk to Dup, Matt?” Spike asked. “Did he have any ideas of alternate locations for expansion?”

“He said there’s land west of town. In fact, another developer is building a gated community.”

“A gated community?” Granny puffed up. “In Sea Blue Beach? We don’t gate up our neighborhoods. We share things around here.”

“Welcome to the future. Dad said Murdock has plans to do the same.”

“I don’t mean to throw a wrench in the works,” Dion said, a seriousness in his southern drawl, “but have y’all seen Harry’s flyers? He’s launched his own campaign.”

No one was surprised, but Dion’s words lit a fire under them. Tyler said he’d start on the flyers today, before his son’s baseball game. Mary pledged to start calling her committees and clubs, but first—

“Who was the beautiful woman you were with at the diner?” Mary smirked at Matt.

Matt made a show of looking down at his clipboard. “I’m sorry, that’s not on the meeting agenda.”

“I move to add Matt’s lunch date to the meeting agenda,” Mary said.

“Second.” Granny, you traitor.

“All in favor, say aye.” A rousing affirmation followed. “The ayes have it.”

“Spike, Tyler, way to turn on a guy. Dion, I thought you’d have my back.”

“I’m an old romantic at heart.”

“She’s just a friend,” Matt said with no amount of affection, ignoring the silly flutters thoughts of Harlow inspired. “She owns 321 Sea Blue Way. Now, can we get to work on saving the Starlight?” And remove me from under the spotlight? Small-town life ... sheesh.

Ten minutes later, with everyone committed to their assignments, Matt called the Sea Blue Beach Gazette from 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, the Gazette was 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 Sunday Gazette and 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, feeling satisfied 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 of those kinds of grins, and kept going.

What are you up to, Dale Cranston? You think your team has won? That the rink will be smashed, 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’re Harlow 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.

“I can if I want. I noticed you didn’t introduce yourself. Hello, how many? Five? That’ll be fifteen dollars. The skates are around the corner. Matt, can you get us going with some music?”

In the sound booth, he loaded Nora’s Perfect Afternoon Session CD and pressed play. The melody of “Strawberry Letter 23” filled the rink.

Skaters of various skill levels hurried to the floor, talking and laughing, singing. The Danvers continued to couple skate—as they would all session no matter what the song—displaying their skill with a practiced routine.

Matt paused by the ticket booth before heading to the back room, where he’d been cleaning and purging. So far, Granny missed none of it.

“Can I buy you dinner between sessions, H?”

“Maybe. But not as a date, right? You are my boss.”

“Totally platonic. Five thirty?”

He’d just hauled a large garbage bag to the dumpster when Dad walked in with a studious man swinging a large briefcase.

“Matt, this is Gordon Vale, property appraiser. Gordon, go on back and get yourself set up. I’ll be along in a minute.”

“Property appraiser?” Matt said. “Dad, this will crush Granny. Bringing him in here is all but admitting defeat.”

“It’s called being prepared. Harry’s not going to just let you work up the town to vote against his proposals. Trust me. And I want Ma to get a fair price.”

“You think he’s that determined? That the town will go with him?”

“You saw him at the meeting, Matt. Sea Blue Beach may be small, and we may know everyone’s name, but politics is politics. Harry is chomping at the bit to wield his elected authority. We need to do our homework.” Dad started to walk toward the office. “You home for dinner?”

“Going to the Blue Plate with Harlow.”

“I see. Is there something you need to tell me?” Dad, oh Dad.

“Yeah. I drank the last of the milk.”