by Kate Moseman
“I should have asked—did you want to start with a sandwich or something?” said Thomas.
“No,” said Vanessa. “We’re adults—we can give ourselves permission to have ice cream for lunch.” She ordered double scoops of strawberry and vanilla.
“I knew I liked you,” said Thomas. He ordered scoops of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry in a bowl.
They looked around for a place to sit. When they found all the seats taken, Vanessa suggested they sit in her car. She unlocked the driver’s side door and leaned across, ice cream tipping precariously, to unlock the passenger side door.
“Nice car,” said Thomas as he sat down. He pulled the lever to recline the seat.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s a little small, but I like it.”
“Call it snug,” said Thomas. “Or cozy.” He scooped a bit of vanilla and chocolate together.
Vanessa swirled the ice cream around in her bowl. “You know, this isn’t what I was expecting when I moved down here.”
“No?”
“It’s different. So much money went into making this place beautiful. Not that my old park wasn’t nice,” she said. “It was just—how do I put this—simpler? Homegrown?”
“Was that better?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I feel a little like the country mouse in the city.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. It’s a fresh perspective.”
She nodded, appearing to consider his words. “I hope you’re right.”
They finished up their ice cream lunch.
After Vanessa locked the car doors, she turned to Thomas. “What’s next? Oh, wait—you have something there. Right there.” She pointed at his face.
Thomas groped his face all over, feeling for melted ice cream. “Where?” Embarrassment curled around the ice cream in his belly.
“No, not there. There,” she said.
He patted his face faster, finding nothing.
“May I?” she asked.
He sighed and nodded.
She held her hand lightly along his jawline and rubbed her thumb across his jaw. “There. All clear.”
“Thank you. We can go get changed now,” he said, gesturing for her to go first.
As he followed her down the stairs, his hand traced where hers had touched.
After picking up a fresh costume at the window for himself, and helping Vanessa select her items, he breezed into the locker room to change costumes for the next attraction.
Thomas rather liked the Gold Rush costume. It came with a broad-brimmed hat he could wear at a rakish angle. He didn’t love the garish neckerchief, but acknowledged that it certainly fit the theme even if it wasn’t the most attractive accessory. He observed himself in the mirror. Pants zipped? Check. Shirt smoothly tucked in? Check. Hat at the right angle? He made a slight adjustment. Check.
Outside the locker room he spotted Vanessa fully kitted out in brown slacks, a beige blouse, a red neckerchief, and the signature Gold Rush brown felt hat. “Have you been on the ride before?” he asked as they walked to Gold Rush.
“I’m not much of a roller coaster person,” she said.
“No? Me neither. But,” he clarified, “even I like Gold Rush. It’s not too rough and the drops aren’t too big.” He led the way to an outdoor overlook where they could watch the ride in action. Each time a train swooped past their position, the happy screams of the riders faded in, increased to full volume, and faded out like someone had rapidly dialed a volume control up and down.
“Does it go upside down?” she asked.
“Nope.”
She watched the ride for another minute. “I can handle it,” she said.
“You sure?”
“Positive. Oh!” she said. She touched her hat. “Where can I stash this thing?”
He swept his hat off and held it out as if he were taking up a collection. “With mine.”
She nested her hat neatly inside of his and followed him to the loading area, where he deposited their hats behind a podium. They stepped into one of the two-person cars and pulled down the lap bar.
The train ambled out of the station and climbed the first hill. Thomas eyed Vanessa. Her face was serene, but her hands gripped the lap bar. “Here we go!” he cheered as they reached the top. The train swept down the hill and around a corner past abandoned carts heaped with ore.
They couldn’t help sliding from side to side and bumping into each other as the train careened along the track. When they swerved through a cave streaked with sparkling gold veins, Vanessa’s head tipped back and she laughed in delight.
Thomas applauded as the train pulled into the station, leading the entire train full of visitors—and Vanessa—in an impromptu standing ovation as they exited.
“That was fun!” she exulted.
He smiled broadly and returned her hat, sweeping his hair back before putting on his own. “Now you get to see behind the scenes,” he said.
The control tower contained an intimidating array of buttons that operated loading gates, ride vehicle doors, emergency brakes, and a PA system, not to mention an internal phone handset and a bank of old computer monitors displaying a constant cascade of system notifications. Thomas noticed Vanessa’s forehead furrowing as her gaze traveled across the controls. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “You don’t have to know all of this like a crew member would. That would take days. You’re just here to get the basic idea.”
They stood in the background as the control tower crew member deftly dispatched ride vehicles one after another in synchrony with the crew loading and unloading below.
“It’s not that,” she said, still focused on the controls. “I’m not worried. I’m just comparing your controls to the roller coaster I used to run.”
Intrigued, he asked the crew member at the controls to stand aside. Thomas took the seat and gestured for Vanessa to come closer. He caught a faint scent of roses as she leaned over his shoulder. Focus, Thomas. He narrated his actions as he ran through the sequence of controls that operated the ride.
After watching the process through several arriving and departing trains, she recited the sequence without a flaw.
“Well done,” he said with sincere admiration, ceding the controls back to the control tower crew member.
“All in a day’s work,” she replied, and tipped her hat.
Vanessa
After she completed her Gold Rush training, they returned to the costume department to change into their normal attire.
One more training day. Then everything will be back to normal. She would be back in her regular clothes, back in her office, back to the familiar feeling of exercising a reasonable amount of authority. Being the supervisor, not the supervised.
Wearing a costume blurred the lines.
When she came out of the ladies’ locker room, she felt unsure whether she should wait for Thomas or not. She decided it would be impolite to leave without saying goodbye, then wondered if perhaps he had already changed and left.
He hadn’t. He strode through the swinging doors of the locker room and into the main hallway. “See you tomorrow,” he said when he spotted her. She waved back and realized she hardly recognized him in street clothes. She wondered how he would look in the Ghost Factory costume.
When Vanessa entered the Legacy office, Charlotte glanced up. “You didn’t want to be a lady gold miner for the rest of the day?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” said Vanessa.
“Suit yourself.”
The door opened. Dirk carried a folded sheet of paper as he walked in. “I had to run an errand up to the head office, so I went ahead and picked this up for you while I was there. Thought I’d save someone a trip.” He handed it to Vanessa.
Did you read it already? Of course you did.
&nb
sp; She unfolded it.
Vanessa Jones
Legacy Management
Destiny Park
Dear Ms. Jones,
Please join us in the head office at 5:00 p.m. today for an all-hands meeting.
Regards,
Mr. Destiny
“Fine. Charlotte, I’m going upstairs for a management meeting. Dirk, you keep an eye on things here. I’ll update you later.”
Having gotten the hang of navigating the underground corridors, Vanessa emerged at the nexus of Legacy, Fantasy, Discovery, and Galaxy, into the center of Destiny Park informally known as the Hub.
The castle in the center of the plaza nearly blinded her. Sun reflected from vast panels of glass with a mirror-like finish. The Mirror Castle, as it was known, reflected vistas from all of the surrounding areas, as well as the daytime illumination. Although the glass was not entirely opaque, it was still impossible to see from the outside what the inside contained.
Narrow panes broke Vanessa’s reflection into thin shards as she approached the hidden elevator to the head office. Vanessa stepped inside and pushed the button. When the doors opened again, she stepped out into a plain and narrow hallway with a low ceiling. The drabness of the castle interior contrasted sharply with its glossy exterior. She followed the sound of voices around a corner to find the meeting room.
A large oval table almost filled the room. She took a seat. No one sat in the chair at the head of the table. None of the managers present made any attempt at small talk.
Tough crowd.
It was against her nature not to greet those seated next to her, so she settled for a polite nod to the managers on her left and right in lieu of friendly conversation.
Mr. Destiny strode into the room. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table, whipped off his suit jacket, handed it to an aide, and sat down heavily in the chair. He leaned back, clasped both hands behind his bald head, and surveyed the assembled managers. “Thank you for coming. I know you are all anxious about our situation,” he said, leaning forward and using his fingers to put air quotes around the word “situation.”
Vanessa looked around the table. Other managers were nodding along, so she did her best to match their concerned expressions. It didn’t seem like a good time to point out the fact that she had absolutely no idea what the “situation” was.
Mr. Destiny continued. “I think we’re making headway with most of the crew. The summer festival, with the free ice cream and so on, I think that’s showing people that we care.” He spoke as if reciting an immutable scientific law. “They don’t need to join a union when we have their best interests at heart.”
Oh, boy. Everything fell into place at once. The employees are trying to organize.
No wonder they were asking all those questions.
No wonder they were so eager to fill the job and get a manager in here. I bet they would have hired anyone who could fog a mirror, just to make sure they had someone in place.
Mr. Destiny was still pontificating. “So I want you to keep on doing what you’re doing. Keep talking about how they’re free to join or not join. Keep talking about how much union dues take out of their hard-earned paychecks. Tell them to let you know if the union organizers are harassing them, so you can protect them. Besides,” he said, making an exaggerated gesture to display his watch, “they have less than 30 days left until the election. We have the advantage here. No one likes change. No one likes somebody coming around harping on things and stirring up trouble. All you have to do, on the other hand, is present the facts and emphasize what a great place this is to work.”
Vanessa wanted to sink into her chair.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 4
Vanessa
The next morning, the last thing in the world Vanessa wanted to do was dress up in yet another ridiculous costume.
Yet there she was, seated on a worn wooden bench in the ladies’ locker room, attempting to tug a thick black stocking over her foot without twisting it upside down in the process. A long, dark green skirt went over the stockings. She stood up and tucked her white high-necked blouse into the skirt, then put an apron over the whole ensemble. Facing the mirror, she stuck a half-dozen bobby pins between her lips and gathered her hair into a pile on top of her head, pinning it down section by section.
When her hair was secure, she turned around slowly in front of the mirror.
I look like a maid.
The observation did not please her. At least the American Dream dress had been frilly enough to be somewhat charming. She missed the Gold Rush hat.
When she walked into the Legacy office, Dirk was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He looked up at her as she walked in. “Are you here to iron my shirts?” he said, clearly pleased with his joke.
She stared at him. I’ll iron the shirt you wear at your funeral. “No, I’m going to train with Thomas this morning.”
“Right. Well.” He took a sip of coffee. “There’s an update on the ‘situation’ this morning.” He paused dramatically.
Vanessa waited for him to continue but refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.
“They want us to keep an eye on the organizers. Make sure they’re not doing anything they’re not supposed to. See if they’re breaking any rules.”
“Isn’t that retaliation?” she asked.
“If you do it right, it’s just good business practices.” He leaned toward Vanessa and stage-whispered. “I already have a few people in mind.”
“Do you, now?” Vanessa was starting to feel the need for a cup of coffee. Or three.
Then the door opened.
Thomas entered wearing tailored slacks, a starched white shirt, and a vest of some satiny material underneath an elegant knee-length coat with wide velvet lapels. Whereas Vanessa’s Ghost Factory costume was modeled to look like a factory worker, his costume was styled to look like a factory owner.
“Good morning,” he said.
All he needs is a top hat. Would a cane be too much?
She made a mental picture of the full ensemble.
“I already asked her to iron my shirts,” said Dirk, who couldn’t let a bad joke go unrepeated.
Thomas didn’t even look at him. Instead, he addressed Vanessa. “Shall we?”
Vanessa, who had been utterly lost in thought, collected herself just in time to answer in the affirmative before leading the way out.
She came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the corridor as the door closed behind her. “I’m sorry, Thomas, I know we’re on a schedule, but if I don’t get a cup of coffee, I’m going to die.”
He laughed. “You don’t have to apologize to me. Do you want to go back to the office?”
A vehement “No!” escaped her before she could stop it. “I mean, isn’t there somewhere else we can go?”
“What, you don’t want the pleasure of Dirk the—” He cleared his throat before continuing, “Dirk’s company?”
It would be too easy to give in and banter with Thomas. She had to remind herself to be diplomatic without breaking ranks. “I’d like to breathe some fresh air, to be honest.”
Thomas led her upstairs and around a corner to a tiny backstage cafe. Coffee in hand, they returned underground to walk the distance across the park before emerging upstairs in a deserted alley next to the Ghost Factory ride.
Vanessa could hear the ride soundtrack faintly through the walls of the building. The orientation of the alley created a funnel effect, which kept a light breeze moving through the area.
Thomas gestured with the hand that held his coffee. “Fresh air, right?”
She faced into the breeze and let it push the loose tendrils of hair away from her face as she sipped her coffee. “Lovely.”
He leaned against the building.
“Thomas, you’ve been
here a while, right? Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“We had a meeting yesterday about the Destiny Park employees who are trying to unionize.” She paused, trying to choose the right words. “Can you fill me in, at all, on what’s going on?” She watched his face closely while trying not to be too obvious about it. He appeared to be gathering his thoughts.
“What do you want to know?” He met her gaze. It felt strangely intense. She looked away and took a sip of her coffee.
“How do people feel about it?”
“People?” he asked.
“You know what I mean.”
“Like, manager people? You’re a manager, you should know what they think,” said Thomas.
She gave him a look. “I’m not asking about managers.”
Thomas exhaled slowly. “Why don’t you ask Charlotte?”
“Charlotte works in an office. It’s not the same,” said Vanessa.
“True. The secretaries aren’t organizing. Yet.” He tipped back his coffee cup for the last drop. “You could ask me how I feel about it.”
I was, you infuriating man. “How do you feel about it?”
“I’m not sure if I like talking politics,” he said. He turned and tossed his cup into a nearby trash can. “Wouldn’t you rather be a ghost in the factory?” He leaned against the wall and grinned at her.
“A haunting answer,” she said.
But not a real answer, and you know it.
Thomas
She knows. She’s on to me. My God, I’m actually sweating. He touched the back of his neck lightly and came away with moisture on his fingertips. He turned his head to see her walking behind him, following him to Ghost Factory. He noticed that her eyes were green, but in doing so, failed to watch where he put his feet, then tripped on a cobblestone and fell over.
She was beside him in an instant, one hand under his forearm and another behind his shoulder, stabilizing him as best she could.
Thomas colored. If I’m going to get fired for union organizing, it’d be nice if I didn’t fall on my face first.