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.
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.