park will stay open later than usual. It’s why Derek is still out there working. No rest for the weary.
“It’s your favorite day of the year,” I tell Cal, coming to stand beside him.
It’s a day that proves there just might be a little bit of real magic going on behind the scenes at Fairytale Kingdom. As soon as the last trick-or-treater leaves the park, employees will immediately start taking down and hauling away all the Halloween decorations. While they’re still in motion, a second wave of employees will follow, ushering in Christmas. All year, our decorating team prepares for tonight. In the flowerbeds, fall mums are swapped for poinsettias. Pre-fluffed, pre-lit Christmas trees are placed on their marks. Wreaths and garland are hung across Castle Drive. The entire village is lit with thousands upon thousands of Christmas lights. Every year, I think, No. There’s no way they’ll manage to do it all in one night.
And yet they always do.
I usually sit here, perched next to Cal, staying up far past my bedtime just to watch everyone at work. Tonight, that’s my plan as well, but Cal seems confused by it.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
I glance down at my phone, rereading my texts from earlier.
Whitney: Any chance you can make it to Thomas’ party?
Derek: Not sure. I don’t want to get your hopes up. I promise things will slow down soon.
Whitney: No worries. I know you’re busy.
Derek: Want to meet me for a quick dinner? I might have time around 8 PM.
Whitney: I’m supposed to see Cal tonight. Could you join us?
Derek: I’ll try.
An hour ago, he texted again.
Derek: Can’t make dinner. I’m with the holiday team going through a final check before the park closes and things get underway. I’m sorry.
Whitney: No, it’s okay. Good luck. XX
“Nope,” I tell Cal, pocketing my phone. “It’s just you and me tonight.”
“Derek works too hard,” he says, probably catching a glimpse of my text messages.
“Derek’s not my only friend, you know. I have other places I could be. Carrie and Thomas are having a party.”
“Then why on earth are you here with me?”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine. You know that. Next week, I plan on returning to work.”
I frown. “Really? Already?”
“It won’t be like before. I’m going to take a step back, help Derek transition into the Director of Operations role and make sure he has a good team around him so he can delegate. He can’t continue at the pace he’s working now. As it is, I don’t think he’s slept more than a few hours in the last two weeks.” He stands. “No, c’mon, you’re not hanging out here with me all night. I want you to go have fun.”
I resist. “I don’t even have a costume. It’s fine. I’m happy just hanging out with you.”
“Nonsense. Now, follow me. I have an idea.”
Chapter Twenty
Whitney
“You’re kidding,” Carrie says dryly.
I hold out my hands. “What?”
“Most of the women here are dressed like they’ve lost half their clothes and you show up like this.”
I spin in a circle. “What’s wrong with my costume?”
Thomas steps up behind Carrie at the door and doubles over in laughter. “You nailed it! You win.”
I smile. “Thank you. Now, are you going to invite me inside or am I just going to stand out here in the hall all night?”
Just then, two women dressed up like sexy witches brush past me. They give me a once-over before frowning in confusion.
“I’m Charles Knightley,” I declare proudly.
Their smiles say they feel deeply sorry for me.
They shouldn’t. I look amazing.
Cal let me raid his closet. I’m wearing a purple linen shirt tucked into my jeans, and a small navy scarf is knotted around my neck in the French style. A call from Cal to the night crew in the Costuming Department produced a white beard that’s now glued to my jaw. My hair is tucked in a bun underneath one of Cal’s straw fedoras. He even let me borrow his watch, and an extra pair of his reading glasses hang from a lanyard around my neck.
The witches disappear inside and I glance back at Carrie—who, by the way, isn’t dressed all that sexy either. She has her hair slicked back into a half-up bun. She’s wearing a laced leather jerkin over tight black pants. There’s a dagger and a thin sword holstered at her waist. She looks like a medieval assassin.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Then I snap my fingers with realization. “Duh, you’re Arya.”