“But they didn’t listen,” Vanessa said. “I know. I think it’s worth another try.”
“Is this about the union thing?”
“Maribel, I’m officially not allowed to have an opinion on that. Let’s just say that I want to keep you all safe, no matter what.”
Maribel raised one eyebrow. “Whatever you say, boss,” she said.
They went to the loading area and Maribel showed Vanessa exactly how the accessory could snag on the lap bar or the ride vehicle decorations.
It was such an obvious hazard Vanessa couldn’t believe no one had taken the crew’s complaint seriously.
“Thank you for showing me,” Vanessa said. “Don’t forget to take your extra five minutes before you jump back in, okay?”
She left Maribel and went to the Legacy office. “Charlotte, since we get memos from Mr. Destiny, I assume there’s a way to send one to him?”
“You can try,” Charlotte said. “But he doesn’t show up here unless he has to.”
“What else does he have to do?” Vanessa asked. She remembered her old amusement park, where the owners practically lived on-site.
Charlotte shrugged. “Jet around and drink champagne, I guess. Beats working in a cave.”
“Can you call up to the head office?”
“Sure, I can call anyone you like.” Charlotte picked up the handset and dialed an extension. “Hello? Is Mr. Destiny available? The Legacy manager would like to speak with him.” She listened. “Thank you. I’ll tell her.” She hung up. “His secretary said he’ll be in and out today, getting ready for an all-hands meeting.”
“Another one already?” Vanessa said. “Is that normal?”
“Not in my experience. And”—she leaned across the desk and lowered her voice—“you might want to keep an eye on our friend Dirk. He’s been running a lot of ‘errands’ up there.”
“Good to know. I think I’ll pay Mr. Destiny a visit myself, before he jets off again.”
She detoured to the costume department to pick up a neckerchief before returning upstairs to the Mirror Castle. The hidden elevator carried her to the heart of the head office, but this time, there were no voices to follow. She looked up and down the hallway before heading in the opposite direction of the meeting room. The hallway dead-ended at a desk, staffed by an unsmiling woman wearing a headset.
“My secretary called up earlier. I’m Vanessa, the Legacy manager. May I speak to Mr. Destiny?”
The woman eyed her. “Just a moment.” She touched a button on her desk. “Mr. Destiny? The Legacy manager is here to see you.” Her hand went to the headset as she listened. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her in.” She addressed Vanessa. “He’ll see you now.”
Thomas
Thomas checked the clock on the wall in the underground break room. Early. I’m just early. They’ll show up. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa as the television droned on about the weather.
Maribel sat down next to him. “Hey. How’s the weather?”
“Cloudy with a chance of getting fired.”
“Aren’t you the funny one. Where’s Short Bob?”
“On his way,” Thomas said. “I hope.”
“I saw Paulina in costuming. She should be here in a minute. Guess who I saw this morning?”
“Surprise me,” said Thomas.
“Vanessa.”
Thomas sat up straight. “Where? What did she want?”
“She wanted me to demonstrate that costuming safety issue on Gold Rush,” Maribel said.
“Really?” Thomas drew the word out, long and speculative.
“I like her,” said Maribel.
Thomas struggled to reduce his opinion to an acceptable response, like I do, too, or She seems nice, but ran out of time as Paulina and Bob arrived.
Paulina sat down next to Maribel while Bob sank into the armchair adjacent to the sofa.
“Where are we at, people?” asked Paulina.
“We were just discussing Vanessa,” said Maribel.
“She’s quite the dancer,” said Paulina. “Right, Thomas?”
“Thomas? Is there something you want to share with the class?” Maribel elbowed him.
“She showed us a line dance at the carriage wash,” he said.
Paulina giggled and made tiny kissing sounds.
“Shut up, Paulina,” said Thomas.
“I miss all the fun stuff,” said Bob.
“Well, she must have liked your poster, or she wouldn’t have come down to Gold Rush,” Maribel said.
“True,” said Bob.
“Anyway,” said Thomas, attempting to keep the conversation on track, “how’s it going at your attraction? Maribel?”
Maribel took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and studied it. “It’s pretty good. I’d say we have about fifty percent in favor right now.”
“Bob? How’s American Dream?”
“We don’t have as many crew members as you all do”—he indicated Maribel—“but I think we have about the same split ‘for’ and ‘against.’”
“That leaves Ghost Factory. Paulina, how’s it going with your crowd?” Paulina, as Thomas well knew, had a lighthearted exterior along with a canny knack for observing people.
Right now, she was all business. “It’s a tie between the people who couldn’t care less, and the people who really want a union. Not too many fence-sitters.”
“It’s close everywhere,” he agreed. “Anybody free to do some home visits this weekend?”
“I can,” said Maribel.
“Good,” said Thomas. “I’ll see about getting some more names and addresses. Any ideas for what we can do here at the park? I like the posters, but maybe we can do something new. Keep it fresh.”
The organizing committee sat in silence.
The news station broadcast the weather all over again. This time, the forecaster mentioned the formation of a tropical wave.
“That’s what we need,” said Bob. “A big wave of an idea.”
“I think it’s time to go public,” said Thomas. “Why don’t we do our next poster with testimonials? ‘Why I’m Voting Yes’?”