a private conversation with her about the lease terms. But this felt more like a sneak attack than a negotiation.
“Twenty thousand for the space and twenty percent of the profits is not the deal I negotiated with Ford Hamilton last fall,” she said.
Other vendors fanned out behind her so they formed a half circle. They nodded in agreement, entrapping Jack in a back-down-or-be-a-butthead situation.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” he said slowly, “Ford Hamilton is dead. His verbal contracts are null and void.”
Several of the vendors—Bernie from Bernie’s Famous Boardwalk Fries and Tosha from Tosha’s Homemade Ice Cream—gasped and shook their heads. They’d known him since he was a little boy climbing on their counters and begging for free samples. They’d worked with his father for two decades or more. Maybe he was making a mistake...
“So...?” Gus prodded. “You really plan to renege on the deal we all thought we had—ten thousand and ten percent—on a technicality?” The hard lines of her mouth showed no signs of softening. She plucked the rubber band from the arm of his chair and started snapping it with her fingers.
Jack felt her words like a punch to his chest, knocking his breath away and spiking adrenaline through his veins. “My father’s death is a lot more than a technicality. If you don’t like the deal, don’t take it. Nobody’s forcing you to sign.”
Her mouth dropped open a little and she stepped back. Only a small step, but enough to give him room to stand. He topped her by only four inches, and together they looked like giants in front of a pack of smaller villagers, all angry. Seeing the accusatory faces of the vendors didn’t do a thing for Jack’s mood. He knew he should save face, make a graceful exit, schedule an actual meeting to discuss the situation. But not now. Hard retreat was the only way his tenuous grasp on his emotions wouldn’t crack.
He stared at the lobby wall behind the group, anger, pain and frustration tightening his jaw and spine. He couldn’t look them in the eye. Wouldn’t. It was going to be a season, maybe several, of tough choices. He’d have to get used to it.
“I’ll give you until tomorrow afternoon to sign the new contracts and return them to my office. You are under no obligation to lease space at Starlight Point. If you don’t return the signed contracts by this time tomorrow, I’ll assume you’re backing out and replace you immediately.”
Jack turned and headed for the beach entrance, only pausing a second when he felt the sharp zing of a rubber band on the back of his head as he slid through the doors.
TOSHA PUT HER arm around Gus, her head barely reaching Gus’s shoulder. “I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or turn him over my knee and spank him,” she said.
“You got a good aim,” the hot-dog vendor said. “I say we elect you as our official leader.”
“I’m the newest one here,” Gus objected.
“But you’ve got three bakeries,” Bernie said. “And I’ll bet you’ve got as much riding on this season as the rest of us.”
Gus thought of the payments on her business loan. No kidding.
“What do we do?” she asked, dropping into the chair vacated by Jack Hamilton. “Tell him to go jump in the lake and take his extra ten thousand and ten percent with him?”
“That’d sure be nice,” Hank said. He tugged at his butcher’s-style shirt, which had Hank’s Hot Dogs embroidered on it. “But I was planning on going to Florida this winter with the money I make this summer. Arthritis is getting to my wife.”
“If we all walk, he won’t be able to replace us in time for opening day, will he?” Gus asked.
The other vendors shifted nervously and exchanged swift glances.
“Probably not right away,” Hank said. “It would put the hurt to him for a while at least.”
“But he’d replace us eventually and we’d be out,” Bernie said. “Permanently.”
“Nobody wants to walk away,” Tosha said. “This has been our summer home for years. We all loved Jack’s father, and those Hamilton kids have practically grown up under our noses. They’re like family. Right?”
No one said anything.
“We could try threatening to walk away and see what he does,” Tosha added.
“I’m afraid he’d let us go. You heard what he said—twenty-four hours to sign the contracts. I’m not so sure bluffing will work on him,” Hank said. “His dad was an easy guy to work for, but I wonder about Jack. Can’t figure out what’s going on in his head now that the whole thing’s in his lap.”
Gus sighed. “I have all my money riding on these bakeries and the one downtown. I’m in deep.”
“I can’t afford to pull up stakes,” Bernie said. “Besides, people expect me to be here...they bring their kids to get the same boardwalk fries they got when they were little.” He spread his hands, looking around him for support. “It’s a tradition.”
“Hate to bother her when she’s grieving, but we could try talking to Jack’s mother,” Hank suggested.
“No,” three voices said at the same time.
“Virginia gets wind of this,” Bernie said, “we’ll all get etiquette lessons for the STRIPE this summer.”
“Lessons?” Gus asked. Virginia had mentioned making Gus her STRIPE sergeant, but she’d let the thought get lost among all her other concerns.
Tosha sat on the arm of Gus’s chair. “Every summer, Virginia plans and operates the Summer Training Improvement Program for Employees. All employees. Vendors, management, security, beach patrol, everyone.”
Hank nodded and grimaced. “Everyone. Part of the contract.”
“Is it part of our contract?” Gus asked. She flipped through the document crumpled in her hand.
“Page four,” Bernie said. “Already checked.”
“So, what does everyone have to do?”
“Depends on the program,” Tosha explained. “It’s usually a skill Virginia considers useful. She always insists that, whatever her crazy idea is, everyone should know how to do it just in case. She views this as more than just a summer job, wants people to take away skills as well as their minimum wage, I guess.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Gus said. “What kind of stuff have you had to do?”
“Change the oil in a car engine,” Hank said.
“Swimming lessons,” Tosha added.
The other vendors jumped in.
“Square dancing.”
“Setting a formal
