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The board can go fuck themselves.
We sit in silence for a long stretch, and I know he’s giving me time to cool down. I finish my wine off in one gulp and push my glass away.
“I want you to take over this company more than anyone,” he clarifies.
I clear my throat.
“That being said, I think a little shakeup would be good for you.”
I interlock my fingers on the table and stare at where my hands meet. “Just tell me what you have in mind. It’s been a long day.”
“A few months working In Character down in the park.” His words have the same effect as a winning poker hand, flipped over and fanned across the table. It’s like he knows he’s already won this battle.
“Absolutely not.”
He’s out of his mind.
I stand to leave. “Give Ava my thanks for dinner.”
He calls after me as I walk away. “What is our base-level employees’ number one concern right now?”
The question is out of left field, and yet, without hesitating, I rattle off the answer I know to be correct. “Hourly wage, followed closely by job security.”
“Wrong.”
I jerk to a stop.
“We’re just coming off of a scorching summer,” he continues. “Their main concern is the heat. When they’re in costume with the sun beating down overhead, they don’t give a damn about job security. They want shorter shift times, more frequent breaks, and effective cooling systems built into wardrobe.”
Though I want to argue, I stay completely silent.
“You know the broad scope of managing the company better than anyone, but I’m afraid you’ve forgotten about the minutia. Working In Character for a few months will bring you out of the clouds and give the board a shining example of the lengths you’re willing to go to for this company. No one will be able to argue when I name you as my successor once and for all.”
I haven’t agreed to it. I think it’s an absolutely ridiculous idea. Still, I ask a simple question I know he has the answer to. Cal is always ten steps ahead of the rest of us.
“Where?”
“Elena’s Castle. You’ll work alongside Whitney, the girl who was here with me when you first arrived.”
“You forget I already know her.”
“That’s right.” He chuckles. “I’d forgotten. I’m sure she’ll be happy to have her old mentor back.”Chapter ThreeWhitneyI am the product of a unique childhood. My family and I moved from Idaho to Georgia when I was six. My older sister was sick, and according to all the specialists, her prognosis was bleak enough to be measured in months, not years. My parents wanted her life to be as happy as it could be for as long as she had, and well…there’s no place on earth more happy-inducing than Fairytale Kingdom. As a six-year-old, I thought this was the best decision they could have made. Living next to a theme park!? Genius. But I was six.
The reality of our situation was less than perfect. We squeezed into a crumbling two-bedroom apartment right next door to the children’s hospital. Both were so close to Fairytale Kingdom that we could see the purple spires of Elena’s Castle from Avery’s hospital room. On Fridays, we’d perch at the window and watch the firework show with our faces pressed against the glass.
In some ways, life in Georgia seemed more fun. My parents worked at the park as base-level employees. Their uniforms looked more like Halloween costumes. My mom got to wear a cute little hat, and my dad pretended to smith toy axes. In my head, they’d both won the job jackpot.
On good days, when my parents could take off work and Avery was feeling up to it, we’d all go to Fairytale Kingdom together. The park was always accommodating. Avery would get special treats and toys. The employees always paid her special attention and we’d get front-row seats for the afternoon parade.
In other ways, life in Georgia was just the same as it’d been in Idaho. Avery was still sick, and this was extremely frustrating to me. In my six-year-old mind, Georgia was supposed to heal Avery, as if all she’d been missing before was Southern cooking. Get her more peach cobbler, stat!
The other part of life in Idaho that got dragged with us to Georgia was my role as Avery’s donor. I don’t remember the first time I donated blood or bone marrow to Avery. It was a part of my life as far back as my memory can stretch. Don’t you want to help your sister? Yes. This will hurt, but Avery needs it. Okay. No one ever forced me to help; they didn’t need to. Being her donor made me feel important, and my parents and Avery’s care team were always so appreciative. Those were the few times I felt truly noticed.
Over time, our roles became set in stone. Avery was the patient, and I was the caregiver. I didn’t change her IVs or dole out medication, but every day after school, I’d race to her hospital room with new artwork. Her walls were soon covered. I’d bring her stories of the outside world: what our cafeteria food tasted like, what new shoes Cara Sims wore to school that day. I’d check out books from the library for the two of us to read together. Most importantly, at the most basic level, I made sure to be my most smiling, happy self whenever I was with her because Avery needed happiness.
