california christmas dreams (4 page)

“If I remember correctly, you never missed that show she was in,” his father said with a grin.

Jake stirred uncomfortably. Sometimes his father remembered the oddest things. “And you could be sailing off into the sunset in that boat you’ve never used.”

“Not yet. I have plenty of time to sail my boat.” John’s gaze rested on Merry as she held her sketchbook, her hand moving rapidly.

“Maybe it’s those dark circles you have under your eyes, old man,” Jake said. “You look tired.”

“I’m not sleeping because I’m excited about the prospect of revitalizing this park. You should take a look at her drawings. She has a vision for what the park is eventually going to look like,” John said. “And I’m not just talking about Christmas.”

Jake said nothing. Merry had moved over to the go-kart track, and stood beneath the shade of a palm tree. She’d retrieved a camera from her pocket and was taking a photo of the track. Then she returned to her sketchbook.

He wasn’t winning this battle, but he could still win the war. Maybe what he needed to do was play along for the moment. With the new improvements, the price could go up. He could still win this. He just needed to keep his hand in everything. “You’re right, Dad,” Jake conceded. “Let me help you. I’ll oversee the money. Keep everything on budget.”

“I’ve been handling my own money since you left for school.”

“Handling money can be a burden. Let me take that burden off your shoulders so you can concentrate on the park and have more fun with Evelyn and your grandchildren.”

John glanced at his son, indecision on his face. “I never made you work in the park when you were a kid because you just didn’t have it in you. But I’m going to accept your offer with gratefulness and gracefulness. Because it will make you feel better if you can keep an eye on me. If you want to pretend I’m a drooling, addlepated old man, that’s okay with me.” He turned around and left, whistling as he sauntered down the path toward the carousel.

Jake watched his father leave, knowing he hadn’t fooled the old man, but he did feel better. This way he could keep Merry from frittering the money away on stupid stuff.

* * *

Merry sketched out an idea for the center island of the go-kart track. In her mind’s eye, she could see a huge Christmas tree, bright with lights and large ornaments. Stacks of large boxes wrapped in different colors with bows decorating the tops could be strewn beneath the branches. Maybe a big fluffy dog hidden behind the boxes would add interest.

She moved along the edge of the go-kart track, ever conscious of Jake Walters’s gaze on her. He’d be really hot if he wasn’t such a stick-in-the-mud. If only he would smile. He had a nice face and handsome eyes, but the austere expression and the rigid way he stood made him seem distant and aloof. She took out her tape measure and measured a section of fence surrounding the track. She entered the dimensions and then counted all the sections. She doubted she’d string any Christmas lights around the bars, but it never hurt to have a complete picture of what she could do.

She glanced at Jake Walters standing by the flagpole, watching her. His head was tilted to one side as he listened to his father. Despite John’s enthusiasm, she could see that Jake didn’t share it. His body was stiff and unyielding and he clearly didn’t want to listen to his father. John’s body was loose and flexible as he gestured with his hands. She could see enthusiasm in every mannerism John exhibited. She didn’t understand why Jake didn’t get it. This park was magical in its own way. Not like the others, but in a more down-to-earth manner.

John walked away whistling, leaving Jake standing by the flagpole. Merry knew Jake wanted his father to sell the park, and he would probably do what he could to talk John into accepting the terms of the sale. Just from the way they stood, she could tell they were both determined men. Maybe accepting this job wasn’t the smartest move on her part; she’d better start thinking about contingency plans. She still had contacts at Universal Studios from her intern days, and they’d start shooting the midseason replacement shows soon. She’d worked for them for a year before the Chapman Brothers had come back to her with a better offer, but now that she’d ended that association she’d better start thinking ahead again.

“My father says you’ve done some drawings to show your plans for the park. May I see them?” Jake asked.

Merry started. He’d crept up on her while she’d been caught in her thoughts. “Yeah, sure,” she said. “Come on.” She led the way back to her dingy little office.

She spread the plans out across her desk and drawing table. She rubbed her thumb nervously against her thigh. He hadn’t said a word; he simply stared at them, thumbing through the drawings.

She was deeply conscious of how he made her office seem smaller and even more dingy. He was a man who overpowered a room.

He didn’t say anything for the longest time, simply glanced back and forth, his mouth pressed tightly shut. She wanted him to be impressed with her vision, but he seemed to become more and more distant.

“This is going to cost a lot of money,” Jake said after a long, uncomfortable silence.

“Yes, the initial outlay is going to cost. We have sets to build and costumes to make, but what I’m planning here is something that will be multifunctional. I’ll repurpose the same props for Easter, summertime, Halloween and then Christmas again. And your father gave me a budget. I think I can meet it and maybe spend even less if I can get a lot of local college students to help me with things. They get course credit and I get cheap labor.”

He didn’t say anything, and Merry waited uncomfortably. He looked skeptical. She racked her brain trying to think of the right things to say that would sway him. “I haven’t got a hope in hell in convincing you this is a good idea. Why did you even bother to talk to me?”

Surprise lit his eyes at her directness. “Dad is sixty-seven years old. He should be tuna fishing in Cancun or chasing nubile Tahitian girls.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Wow. Do you really think your dad wants to chase Tahitian girls? So we know how you intend to spend your retirement.”

“Hell, no, not me,” Jake said, shaking his head vigorously.

“Your dad has a lot of life left in him. Why shouldn’t he do what he wants to do?”

“Because this is a dying park.”

“No,” she said, “not dying, just a little lost. This park doesn’t know what it wants to be when it grows up.”

“And you do.”

She looked him directly in the eye. “Yes, I do.” She took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “Come on. I want to really show you my vision.”

She opened the door and dragged him out back into the park. “This park has so much potential. Nowadays, it’s not enough to just look pretty. You have to provide substance, too.”

“You can’t remake this park into a mini Chapman Brothers.”

He didn’t resist the pull of her hand, but she sensed he didn’t really want to come with her. Not that he dragged his feet like a child, but she felt that he had no enthusiasm for his father’s dream.

“No one can compete with the Chapman Brothers. They have a studio, their own amusement park to advertise their movies and a ton of visitors who come every year from all over the world. I, of all people, would know.”

“Then what’s the point?” he asked as she drew him toward the miniature golf course.

“There’s room for everyone. This is going to be a different experience.” She drew him to a small bridge that gave him an overview of the three courses that were woven together. “Look at this. What do you see?”

“Miniature golf.”

She shook her head. “Look at each course. What is the theme of each course?”

“I don’t see one.”

“Right. So think of each section as a microcosm of California. Hollywood on course one with famous movie posters and a miniature Hollywood sign. Maybe some lights, a few director’s chairs and fake cameras. The second course could be based on the different missions in California. The basic structures are already there. We just need to tweak it a little bit. And for course three, San Francisco at its finest. The Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, streetcars, Lombard Street. Each course would have its own unique theme.”

His face was blank. “If you don’t want to be better than competing parks, why bother?”

“I want to be different.” She wanted to stamp her foot at his ignorance. “You need to see the differences. The differences are what make this place unique, and I’m going to bring all those hidden bones to the surface and make this park shine.”

“And suck my father’s life savings away.”

“That was cruel,” she said. “You don’t even know me. I want to be part of this. I want to bring this park back to life. And so does your dad. It has good bones, Mr. Walters, and I think you’re selling your father short. And I know you’re selling me short.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

Chapter 3

“I
need more funds in the project’s budget in order to pay the costume designer.” Merry stood in what used to be John’s office and was now somehow Jake’s. She wasn’t certain how that had happened, but instead of going to John for the money, she was arguing with Jake instead.

“This is a lot of money for just a bunch of sketches,” Jake said.

Merry closed her eyes in an effort to stifle her frustration. “Candace Frenche has designed for Martin Scorsese, Joss Whedon and J.J. Abrams. She’s won two Oscars in costume design. She put James Cameron on hold to do this for me—and she deeply discounted her price.”

“I get that this woman is the Bentley of designers, and I don’t want my dad to fail in this, but this is a lot of money for just the designs. And it’s running over the costume budget.”

Oh, please, please, please,
Merry thought.
Don’t let him see how horrified I am.
“Did you think Candace was going to design the costumes for free?”

“I expected you to work within the budget we agreed on,” Jake said. He sat behind the desk, looking calm and unruffled.

“I hire the best people I can get for a reasonable price. A lot of these people are working for me way cheaper than they do for anyone else, as a favor. I am getting you a huge deal. You can call anybody up and ask them how much they pay for Candace’s services and they’ll tell you. I know how to save money, but right here—” she pounded a finger on the bill “—is not the place to cut costs. These costumes need to be high quality.” She’d taken responsibility for much of the labor herself to save money. “Your father gave me a budget and I’ve saved money in other areas, but I need your approval to shift some money around to cover the designs.”

He took the paper and studied it critically. “How do I know these figures aren’t going to balloon into more needed funds?”

She wanted to pull her hair, or maybe she should pull his. He looked so smug and self-satisfied. And gorgeous. Try as she might, Merry couldn’t forget how hot he looked. She didn’t understand why John would turn over the money handling to his son. She didn’t think she could manage weeks of arguing with him. “I don’t know. But I’ve planned and worked up spreadsheets, which I gave to your father as estimates. I’m working hard to stay as close to the budget as I can. Am I going to fight with you over every penny?”

She wanted to tell John that this wasn’t part of the bargain. Yet at the same time, she was ready to go to war with Jake. She couldn’t believe the man didn’t have faith in his father. John was a shrewd businessman and he knew what he wanted and how to get it. Why couldn’t his son see that?

“It’s easy to overspend without even realizing it,” Jake said, his eyes narrowing as though assessing her agitation. “This isn’t like your former job where money isn’t always an issue.”

“Money’s always an issue,” she said with a laugh. Though she had to admit that with billions of dollars available an occasional overrun was hardly noticed. “You’re not just buying Christmas this year, but Christmas for the next twenty years. The better the quality now, the less money spent later. Plus, you need me. Not only can I make what we need for today, but I can repurpose all the props for the next twenty years and still make them relevant. You can’t afford to be penny-wise and pound-foolish. It’s better to spend now and maintain what we have than buy cheap year after year. Trust me, in the end all the props, costumes and decorations will cost more than you know. Plus, if you buy cheap now, people coming to the park will see the cheap decorations and think the rides aren’t being maintained properly because we couldn’t be bothered to get quality in the decorations.”

His eyebrows went up at that statement.

She tried not to grin. She’d thought of something he hadn’t. “Why do you think places like Chapman, Knotts Berry Farm, Disney and Six Flags thrive year after year?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” he asked, sitting back and looking amused.

“Because they understand what the customer wants and they give it to them. That may be on a much grander scale than we can manage, but the principle is the same.”

“All right,” he said with a shrug. “I’m going to give you this one. But I want to see a complete cost breakdown of every penny you want to spend.”

“I don’t cut corners, Jake,” she warned.

He nodded. “I understand.”

She stared at him, trying to gauge the sincerity of his response. “I’ll get the cost analysis and email it to you when I get back to my office.”

* * *

After Merry left, Jake stood and went to the window to watch her walk along the path back to her office. He loved the way her hips swayed side to side as she walked. Occasionally she would stop and stare at a ride or an orange tree as though calculating what she would need to make the spot look Christmassy.

She had fire and passion, he’d give her that. And even he could see she knew what she was talking about, but for some reason he couldn’t stop giving her a hard time. He’d wanted to see how she responded to obstacles, and the fact that she’d stood her ground and crafted a logical argument impressed him.

His phone rang and he glanced at the display. Agent Orange, aka Cecil Jones, his newest client, was calling. Jake sighed, trying to decide if he should answer or let the call go to voice mail. He wasn’t certain he was up to dealing with this guy’s issues. Jake and Cecil’s lawyer had just done some fancy dancing with the IRS to fix the rapper’s tax problems. Things were just starting to look up. The guy had money in the bank from all the music he’d written for commercials. He was never going to be a rap superstar, but he was making a damn good living if he didn’t spend it all the way he wanted to.