An ominous feeling settled in Rebecca’s stomach. She’d raised the ticket prices by two dollars for the day, and she wondered if she’d made a fatal mistake. She'd always prided herself on keeping prices as low as possible, a move she knew was appreciated by the low-income families in the area. They probably couldn’t afford the temporary increase.
She took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Let’s set up a sign about Cinderella’s cancellation. See if Birdie likes Davey’s stage better than hers. If not, I’ll talk to her and figure out something. Can you call the helium company to see if they’ll deliver a tank? Oh, Sara, why aren’t there more people here?”
“I really don’t know, Bec. Maybe there’s some big sporting event or something.”
“I don’t think so. We planned this date so carefully. I shouldn’t have raised the ticket prices, but it’s too late to lower them again now.”
“I did see Jonathan Eastman outside. Do you want me to send him in? He looks especially sexy today.”
“No. I certainly don’t need to see him right now.”
“The two of you would make such a cute couple. If you let him buy Storytown, maybe he’d move here. You could get married and have a family—”
“We really don’t have time for this, Sara. Could you just do as I asked?” Rebecca realized her tone had turned sharp when her assistant bristled. Sara left, closing the door with a bang.
Rebecca frowned at the closed door. Why did Sara care so much about her love life? Her twenty-year-old assistant no doubt believed thirty to be unbearably old. At that age, with her best years behind her, a woman had no choice but to settle down. Rebecca would have to set her straight the next time they talked.
Mittens surprised Rebecca by jumping up on the desk and positioning himself on top of her schedule. She absentmindedly stroked his tiger stripes and gazed out the window. A few visitors straggled by, but they were few and far between. The first puppet shows would begin in less than twenty minutes. She thought of the extra staff she’d scheduled and winced. She would take a big hit with the extra payroll expenditure if attendance plummeted below normal.
She decided to go for a tour of the grounds and check on Birdie. But as she passed through the Poppy Field, she saw Jonathan Eastman outside the Jack Sprat Restaurant talking to customers as they strolled by. Next to him, Lauren nibbled on a soft pretzel. Rebecca didn’t have to think twice to know what Eastman was doing.
She stomped up to him and said under her breath, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Miss Charles, hello. How are you today? You look very nice. Red is a good color on you.”
“Just answer the question,” Rebecca demanded in a louder voice, and Lauren looked up at her, wide-eyed.
“Simply feeling out your customers. There seems to be considerable interest in a ThemeWorld park.”
“How dare you? Who do you think you are? I told you I don’t want to sell.”
He placed his hand on Rebecca’s right arm, which she hadn’t realized she’d been flailing about. The gesture sent a shiver up her spine. She told herself it was from anger and squelched the little voice that insisted otherwise. Unwelcome images of last night's fantasies arose in her mind. She pushed those away, too.
“Relax,” he said. “We were just killing time until Peter Pan started. We’re done. Come on, honey.” He leaned down to Lauren and took her hand. Except for the rolled-up sleeves that exposed his sinewy forearms, his blue dress shirt and red-striped tie signaled a return to business mode.
Rebecca shook her head in disbelief as Eastman led Lauren down Tinkerbell Terrace to the Neverland Theatre. She turned to go in the opposite direction. She looked back just in time to see him peering over his shoulder at her. Ugh. Would this man ever leave her alone? Was she going to have to hire security to keep him away? She reached her office before realizing she’d completely forgotten to check on Birdie.
Chapter 2
Rebecca slammed down the phone receiver the next morning. Tom was the third employee to call in sick. She looked at her marked-up schedule and shook her head. With just minutes before the park opened, she would have to redo her work yet again. She crossed off the merry-go-round slot and moved Joan’s name next to the entrance. But the birthday party line remained woefully blank. She gritted her teeth and filled in her own name. The filing overflowing from her inbox would have to wait.
At least this turn of events could work to her advantage: it would keep her mind off of yesterday's unsuccessful event and provide a respite from her increasing confusion over Jonathan Eastman. Gee, maybe if he came back today, she could put him to work.
“Sure you don’t want me to do the parties?” Sara leaned over Rebecca’s shoulder and tapped the schedule with a polka-dotted fingernail. Rebecca barely registered that the candy pink in the polka dots matched the new highlights in Sara’s hair.
“No, you stay here once you open up,” she told her assistant. “You know where I’ll be if anything happens. With our luck, something probably will.” With that pessimistic prediction, she left for the Jack Sprat Restaurant to pick up the food and party supplies.
Rebecca’s mood improved when she learned that the first party in the Sleeping Beauty area was for Emily Abbott. Emily was autistic. Her parents brought her to the park every weekend, and she seemed to always enjoy herself. Although it was hard to tell for sure, Rebecca felt she’d established a bond with the young girl.
Today, Emily’s guests included her parents and a few relatives Rebecca had met previously. A pang shot through her chest when she saw that Emily was the only child present. But Rebecca put on her widest smile, helped the birthday girl into the special throne at the head of the table, and settled a plastic tiara onto her head.
“You look beautiful, honey,” Emily’s mother, Donna, said. She knelt onto the ground beside the throne and squeezed her daughter’s hand.
“Let’s get a picture,” Emily’s father said, and he set up the shot with his digital camera. “Great one!” He passed the camera around to the relatives, and they murmured appreciative noises.
Rebecca found she was enjoying herself as she carefully removed the castle-shaped birthday cake from its box. She smiled at the moat of blue frosting surrounding the pink castle. Little brown turtles and green alligators peeked out of the water, their jaws ready to snap. Margaret from the restaurant was certainly a whiz at cake decorating.
Once she’d cut the cake and handed out the pieces, Rebecca led the group in a lively rendition of “Happy Birthday.” She gladly accepted the slice of cake Donna offered, scarfing down the sugary treat as she poured lemonade.
She looked down at the goodie bags she’d brought with her, intended for eight children rather than one child and seven adults. She shrugged and arranged one next to each place. For all she knew, the adults would enjoy the princess stickers, hair barrettes, and cherry lipgloss rings.
At the end of the party, while the group prepared to make their way to the puppet show, Rebecca went up to Emily to say goodbye. As usual, Emily clutched her favorite stuffed bear. Rebecca leaned down to pat the bear and to give the child a quick hug. Emily didn’t return the embrace, but Rebecca was gratified to find that she didn’t pull away. Rebecca watched the little girl accept her mother’s hand and walk down Beauty Boulevard. This was why Rebecca loved Storytown—something Jonathan Eastman would never, ever understand.
* * * *
Storytown didn’t open again until Tuesday. By that afternoon, Rebecca had the final gate figures from the Puppet Fest in front of her. Way below what she’d hoped for and even worse than she’d feared, the statistics alarmed her. The event had landed them squarely in the loss column. She made some quick calculations and decided at this rate they wouldn’t last out the year. She’d have to sell to Jonathan Eastman, and soon ThemeWorld would be hawking their chintzy keychains and garish tee shirts to her customers.
She bowed her head to her desk. This was her position when Eastman waltzed into the room wit
hout so much as a knock on the door.
“Hello, Miss Charles. Sara said it was okay to just come on in. Are you all right?”
She lifted her head, rolled her eyes at him, and said, “What do you want?”
“Just thought I’d check in. How were your numbers from Saturday? Get a good crowd?”
How did he guess she was looking at the attendance figures? Did he have a camera on her? She sighed and answered softly, “You know very well we didn’t.”
“It is a shame. Lauren and I certainly had a wonderful time.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Was she really going to cry in front of him? That’s probably just what he wanted.
She closed her eyes, summoned every bit of self-control she owned, and said, slowly and deliberately, “I really need to get some work done. Was there anything else I can help you with?” She opened her eyes and fixed him with an unblinking stare. Why, oh why, had she gotten herself into this mess? Why hadn’t she just declined his offer over the telephone? Why had she let him get anywhere near her?
“You know what you can help me with. Why put yourself through this turmoil? Let ThemeWorld buy the park, and all your problems will be solved.” The ubiquitous dimples showed themselves, and she tried to ignore how they lit up his face.
“Goodbye, Mr. Eastman.”
“I wish you would call me Jon. And perhaps I could call you Rebecca? When you change your mind, we’ll be working quite closely together.”
That did it. Righteous indignation replaced any bit of self-pity she’d been holding onto. “I’m not changing my mind.”
But watching her visitor leave the office, Rebecca wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know how long she could keep up this charade.
* * * *
A week and a half later, Sara carried a huge bouquet of yellow, red, and orange roses into the office.
Rebecca looked up from opening the mail. “Those are pretty. Do you have a secret admirer I don't know about?”
“Actually, they’re for you.” Sara nudged Mittens from the corner of Rebecca’s desk to make room for the vase.
“I hate to ask who they’re from.” But Rebecca was pretty sure she knew.
“Here’s the card.”
Rebecca carelessly tore open the flap, eliciting a paper cut. She sucked blood from her fingertip. Sure enough, inside the envelope, a note read “Best, Jon Eastman.” Two passes to any of the nation’s ThemeWorld parks accompanied the note.
“Look at this,” Rebecca said, flashing the passes at Sara. “Can you believe him?” This was the same kind of stunt Mark would have pulled—a power play masquerading as a thoughtful gesture.
“If you don’t want them, I’ll take them.”
“What? Why?”
“My friends and I are thinking of going when we’re down south this weekend.” Sara paused. “Oh, no, are you mad?”
Rebecca forced herself to laugh. “Why would I be mad? Go and have fun.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” She handed Sara the passes.
But all that weekend, Rebecca couldn’t help but feel her assistant had betrayed her. How could Sara patronize the very business that was trying to take Storytown away from them? Was no one on her side?
* * * *
On Tuesday, Sara made a big show of settling right into her desk and taking up a bunch of paperwork. It didn’t appear as though she would be volunteering anything about the weekend.
Rebecca at last bit her lip and said as brightly as she could manage, “How was ThemeWorld, Sara? Did you have a good time?”
Sara stood and approached Rebecca’s desk. She patted Mittens, who was stretched out on top of the computer monitor. “I’m sorry to say it, Bec, but yeah, we had a blast. They have really cool rides. There’s this one where you go way up into the air, and then all of a sudden you drop back down. It’s so scary, but a total rush.”
Rebecca didn’t know how to respond. She knew, of course, that people had different likes and dislikes, but she’d always hoped Sara felt the same way she did about Storytown, valuing its tasteful rides and sets, and the way that they tied into the theme of children’s literature. Was Sara waiting for her to agree to the ThemeWorld offer? Was Rebecca herself the only one who still believed in Storytown? She couldn’t bear it if the answer to either question was yes, so she asked Sara to see if any of the storyboxes needed repair.
* * * *
Their marketing for the Halloween party had reached fever pitch. The holiday would fall on a Saturday this year, and there would be lots of competition. But Storytown offered a safe, family-friendly environment, and Rebecca hoped wary parents would at least bring their younger kids. She had several special events planned. A fortune teller would read palms at the Snow White area, and a face painter would be stationed at The Three Little Pigs. Unlimited rides on the merry-go-round and Ferris wheel, bobbing for apples, and candy at each attraction would be included in the ten-dollar admission price. This time she’d been careful not to raise the price from last year, even though the overhead was higher than ever.
She and Sara personally delivered hundreds of flyers to the elementary schools in the area, and they talked up the event in several classrooms. They sent out dozens of press releases and bombarded news stations and newspapers with phone calls. Rebecca grew hopeful, especially when advance ticket sales took off and Sara suggested they convert the Alice tunnel into a haunted house. It was sure to be a selling point, and Rebecca had a feeling Jim and Ben would be eager to take up the challenge.
* * * *
Two days before Halloween, Sara stumbled into the office weighed down by two apparel bags. She came over to Rebecca’s desk and laid the bags on top of the computer.
“What have you got there?” Rebecca did her best not to gape at the new purple highlights in her assistant’s hair. The purple on blonde was somehow disturbing.
“It’s a sample of our rental costumes for Halloween. You’re gonna love ‘em.”
“We can’t afford to rent costumes. The staff always provides their own.”
“I know…but I’m invited to a big party the night before, and I was shopping for something to wear. There was a deal on these, and I think they’ll help our attendance.” She unzipped the garment bags. “See, here’s a pirate outfit for the guys…and an Alice in Wonderland costume for the girls. Isn’t it perfect?”
Rebecca took one look at the Alice in Wonderland costume and felt her jaw drop. The outfit belonged in a porn flick. She doubted the blue top would cover what needed to be covered, the aproned skirt would surely expose flesh up to the top of the wearer’s thighs, and the two thin strips of fabric separating the top and bottom sections could easily tear. The only part of the costume at all decent was the blue headband.
“We can’t wear this. It’s meant for an adult party, not a children’s event. It’s completely inappropriate.”
“Come on. It’ll make a great promotional gimmick. We can do a photo shoot this afternoon. Our attendance is sure to go up.”
Rebecca didn’t want to speculate on what kinds of customers the outfit might attract. “We are not wearing that.”
“It looks worse than it is. I tried one on, and it’s fine. You’re just used to wearing clothes that cover your whole body. There’s nothing wrong with showing a little skin. Come on, try it on.”
“No way!”
“Please? Just try it on. If you don’t like it, we won’t do it.”
Rebecca sighed. She knew Sara wouldn’t let the subject drop until she gave in, and she had a lot of work for them to do. So she walked around the office, methodically closing all the shades and locking the door. She kicked off her tennis shoes, removed her sweatshirt and jeans, and slipped on the costume. She looked down. Her chest swelled above the low-cut top, and her bra peeked out beneath the lace. The bottom of the skirt tickled the backs of her thighs just below her underwear. How in the world did Sara think they could wear this and not give their customers an unexpected show?
“I don’t think so. Someone might see me.”
“Come on, live a little. So what if someone sees you? You look great.”
“Okay, okay. But needless to say, you’re taking this back.”
Rebecca unlocked the door, and they sneaked outside. They had almost reached next door when Rebecca came face to face with…Jonathan Eastman.
“Rebecca, how nice to…see you.”
Rebecca desperately searched for something to cover the costume. She gestured to Sara to give up her sweater, but her assistant flashed an innocent smile and shook her head. Rebecca scowled at her.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Eastman,” Sara said. “I’ll see you later, Becca. I have to go give lunch breaks.”
Rebecca watched her go, determined to lecture her when they were alone again. She stood in her skimpy outfit, a rash of heat spreading from her head to her toes.
“Would you please excuse me?” Rebecca said, not meeting Eastman’s eyes. “I’d really feel more comfortable if I could put something on.”
“Why? You look beautiful, you know.”
Ignoring the compliment, Rebecca returned his gaze. He didn’t look away, and her embarrassment blossomed into anger. She said with as much venom as she could, “What is it you want?”
The look on his face suggested he wanted something more personal than the sale of Storytown. “That is an interesting question, and one I’d like to explore at length some other time. But for now, I was hoping you’d show me the untapped land you have in the back. The gate is locked.”
Storybook Love: A Storybook Park Romance Page 2