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Henry gave her a quick, friendly hug. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks.”
Virginia felt strangely lonely when Henry released her and went back to selecting pumpkins from the pile on the wagon. He may not know what it felt like to have children and grandchildren of his own, but it had still been nice to have someone to share the joy with. She wished Ford were still here. After all, this was his grandchild, too. Pain squeezed her heart when she thought about Ford and how he would never see his grandchildren, but she swallowed the thought. Looking down the sunny midway at the roller coasters and familiar sights of Starlight Point, she knew this, too, was Ford’s legacy.
And she was lucky. He’d left her so much in their three children and their shared decades of happiness. She took a deep breath. Today was a day for celebration.
“Try this one,” Virginia said cheerfully, tossing a small orange pie pumpkin to Henry.
He caught it before it went sailing over his shoulder, a wide smile lighting his face.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_04a1d27f-93e4-533e-9df8-5f78871d58ad)
NATE PASTED A smile on his face and shook hands with the photographer and writer. The Bayside Times wanted a story on the fall festival weekends because anything involving Starlight Point was big local news. Even bigger was the fact that the Point had never stayed open past Labor Day weekend.
“I hope you have your walking shoes on,” Nate said. “In my three weeks on the job here, I’ve probably logged three hundred miles.”
He had already replaced his expensive leather shoes from his previous job with a less flashy but much more comfortable pair of black walking shoes. He’d hated giving in and chipping away at his professional veneer, but Starlight Point had long concrete midways and long beautiful beaches. The shoes were a small concession for survival.
Many nights after running his father to chemotherapy or picking up dinner for both of them, Nate’s feet still ached despite the comfortable shoes.
He’d arranged to meet the reporters at the front gate the day before the bonus weekends opened. Fall decorations were in place, but the haunted houses slated for the back of the park wouldn’t open until the first of October. Despite his lack of involvement with the planning—Alice was behind all that—he already felt ownership in everything at the Point. His contribution to the company’s success was the top one inch, the glossy surface that could make or break a good impression.
“Any place you’d like to start?” Nate asked.
“We want to run this in tomorrow’s paper, so let’s see as much as we can before lunch so we can get back to the office and write it up,” the reporter, Bob, said.
Nate stood by while the photographer, Jason, took pictures of the front gates, where scarecrows, pumpkins and bales of straw were arranged. Even the tall letters spelling out the name of the park were festive. A scarecrow replaced the letter L in Starlight and a ghost peeked out from the letter O in Point. Orange and purple lights chased across the welcome marquee instead of the usual red and blue ones.
The pictures were guaranteed to convey the right message. Even the sunshine cooperated as if it were on Nate’s PR payroll. There were no people with unpredictable expressions to throw a wild card into this story, just artful but inanimate objects that were easily controlled.
“Looks like you’re ready,” Bob commented. “Any projections on attendance figures? I bet the owners are banking on this paying off.”
Nate smiled. “Starlight Point considers itself an important part of the community and is excited to extend the season and welcome guests. Season pass holders will continue to get in free, and we hope they bring their friends and families for fall fun.”
The reporter cocked his head and grinned. “Sounds like the official company line instead of a hard answer.”
“It is. You know we don’t release numbers,” Nate continued. “Starlight Point is about the experience people have, and that’s tough to quantify.” He had researched the last five years of press releases and articles in local papers and magazines devoted to amusement parks and tourism in the area, so he knew the company position and agreed with it. “But if you come back this weekend, you may see for yourself how many people are here.”
“Plan to,” Jason said. “My kids love this place.”
The lone security guard at the front entrance held open one of the gates between the turnstiles while the group went through. In addition to a colorful spread of pumpkins and fall decorations, the midway carousel greeted them with skeletons affixed to every third horse in the outside row.
“Nice,” Jason said, setting up a shot of a whimsical skeleton wearing a Starlight Point ball cap with its bony fingers wrapped around the brass pole. “Love the ghost riders.” Halloween lite, Nate thought. That was a strategy he could respect.
“Plenty more decorations and thrills this way,” Nate said. He led them up onto the cable car platform, where guests would board the cars and ride to the other end of the midway. “The ride’s not operating today,” Nate continued, “but from here, you can see all the decorations down the midway. We’ve gone all out making this place an autumn extravaganza.”
The group stood at the edge of the platform where they could see that the flower gardens down the midway had been replaced with displays meant to be enjoyed from the air. The largest circular garden just a short distance away used orange and white pumpkins to create a picture of a grinning skull. From the ground, it would look like piles of pumpkins. The trick is in the perspective.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Nate said, smiling. “Trade secret we’d rather you didn’t print.” He paused as if he was about to reveal that the genuine elephant ears came frozen or the live show performers were only lip syncing. He had their attention and relished it for a moment. Reporters, he thought, were a necessary evil. “It’s the squirrels. They’re cute, but they seem to believe we’ve set out a banquet of autumn produce for them. We’ve already had to replace dozens of pumpkins when squirrels chewed holes in the top. We may have to hire a teenager to be full-time squirrel patrol.”
“Lousy resume builder,” the photographer commented. “I’d hate to see that on a job application.”
As they stood on the platform with a full view of the midway, Nate saw Alice leave the corporate office with two men. He knew it was her, even from a distance, because her auburn hair caught the autumn sunshine. She also wore a pink dress he’d seen her wear at least once before. A memory of her wearing a pink prom dress while her parents snapped dozens of pictures of them raced, unwelcome, through his mind. He was glad he’d never seen her in her wedding dress because an image like that would be harder to suppress.
Where was she going with those two men? Nate tried to remember what was on the special events and weddings calendar. He controlled the company website, blog and calendars. Making himself indispensable and forging a permanent career—no matter what happened with his father—had been his goal when he’d first returned home. And then he’d found Alice right in the middle of his nice neat plan.
Aside from making sure news of Starlight Point got reported on social media, news outlets and the corporate website, he tried not to overlap or get involved with Alice. It was better that way, for both of them. Not that he owed her any favors. His goal was to protect himself, not spare her. He knew she was capable of taking care of herself.
“Ready to see the food stands and their fall theming?” Nate asked, anxious to shift his thoughts back to his job.
“Sure.” The photographer put the lens cap on his camera and both men followed Nate down the steps of the cable car platform. They spent the next half hour checking out the menu boards for the food vendors, which included pumpkin pie and ghost-shaped cookies at Augusta’s Midway Bakery, and spiced apple cider at Hank’s Hot Dogs. At Tosha’s Ice Cream stand, the reporter looked skeptically at the fall offerings. “Cinnamon squash ice cream?” he asked.
“I haven’t tried it yet,” Nate confessed. “I may stick with the pumpkin pie and apple fritters at the bakery.”
He led the reporter and photographer down the midway, past the Sea Devil roller coaster and the new double coaster that had opened at the beginning of the season. The Shooting Star and Super Star combined a kiddie coaster track winding through and alongside a wild coaster for brave riders meeting the taller height requirement.
Nate had been out of the area when it opened, but he’d seen the media reports. Although it was a risk for the park to invest so much money in an unusual coaster, it had paid off in rider numbers and increased daily ticket sales—even though those numbers stayed in the corporate office building.
Starlight Point was on a roll, and remaining open throughout the fall weekends and then again for Christmas weekends was one sign of their fiscal bravery. Alice had talked them into the bold plan, information Jack had shared with Nate in his first week on the job.
Funny how a woman who wouldn’t go through with her own life-altering event managed to talk the three Hamilton siblings into taking a massive risk with their family legacy. It wasn’t his decision what the Hamiltons chose to do, but the fall and winter weekends were the reason he had something to tell the media. Public relations, he thought, were a whole lot less complicated than private ones.
Near the Wonderful West Railroad Station, Nate had set up a family and friends picture zone. It was an idea he’d borrowed from his last job, at a large amusement park a thousand miles away. Even though he’d never thought he’d come home and work locally, he wasn’t coming home empty-handed.
Seeing the photo spot set up with hay bales for families to sit on surrounded by bright orange pumpkins reminded him of a family photo taken when he was eight, his sister was eleven and his mother was alive. His family had sat on hay bales at a local apple farm and had their picture taken. Nate had a copy of that picture on his desk in his office. If only I could go back in time.
As Nate and his group crossed the train tracks and entered the Western Trail, the decorations shifted from cheerful pumpkins and mazes made of straw bales to spiderwebs and glaring scarecrows. The haunted houses and spooky trails were planned for the back of the park so parents of young children would have no trouble avoiding the scary parts if they chose. Teenagers and adults who wanted to appear brave in front of their friends could bypass children’s games and experience the fall celebration with a much higher thrill rating.
Bats swung from trees, spiderwebs covered the buildings on the Western Trail, and an arch with a creepy skull with red glowing eyes welcomed them to the Dark Trail of the Undead. Eerie music played even though the park wasn’t open.
“Not sure I like this,” Bob said.
“I know what you mean. It’s going to be blood-chilling and definitely not for everyone,” Nate said. He shuddered.
“Are you kidding?” the photographer asked. “This is the best part. I’m getting a babysitter and coming back here with my wife as soon as the haunted houses open for real.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” Nate led them down the trail, pausing when the photographer lagged behind to take pictures. “You’ll see the carousel in the Wonderful West is in the process of being transformed, and I’ll give you a sneak preview outside the shooting gallery, which will be a haunted house.”
“Slow down so I can get a candid picture of you showing us around. It would be great if you’d look scared,” Jason said.
Nate controlled his expression and managed a smile. No way.
“It’s not about me. It’s about our guests,” he said. He turned and resolved to keep his face out of the photographer’s lens. He’d rather be the one controlling the news.
As they passed over a small bridge in the Wonderful West and approached the old-fashioned western-themed carousel, Nate saw a flash of pink among the carousel horses. He herded his group that way, not sure if it was the best or worst plan. Maybe Alice would take Mr. Camera-Happy off his hands. No matter his feelings about her, she was clearly a far more attractive subject than he was.
She stood between two carousel horses, chatting easily with a couple of men who must be from the haunted house production company. Not exactly corporate types, the men wore faded jeans and company T-shirts. One had a demented clown tattoo on his arm and the other had a week’s worth of beard.
Starlight Point was hiring them for their talent, not their personal image.
Alice looked up and saw Nate, and her smile faltered for a moment. Then it flashed back. Nate considered making an excuse and racing in the other direction, but he had to be around her sometime. Might as well take this opportunity to practice appearing to have a cordial relationship.
Appearances, as any PR specialist knew, were a powerful moderator of behavior. And he needed all the help he could get.
* * *
“NATE,” ALICE SAID, stepping down from the platform of the carousel. “I’m glad your group ran into mine this morning.”
She juggled her bag and a pile of papers and extended a hand to the reporter and photographer from the Bayside Times. “Alice Birmingham, special events coordinator for Starlight Point,” she said. “I believe we’ve met before, but it’s always nice to welcome the local press.” Why hadn’t Nate told her he was bringing in reporters? She would have prepared statements for them with details about the special fall events she’d spent the early half of the year planning.
She smiled toward Nate with raised eyebrows as if to say, You can try shutting me out, but we work for the same team.
“We’re getting a tour of the decorations and games for the fall festival,” Bob said.
“Well then, you haven’t seen the half of it. These gentlemen are with the haunted house production company.” She introduced everyone and waited for the handshaking to finish. “We decided to hire professionals to set up our haunted houses because this is the first time Starlight Point has attempted something like this. We want to get it right and scare the stuffing out of our guests.”
“That’s where we come in,” the bearded man said. “People who walk in to our haunted houses tend to run out. Strangely, they get right back in line to do it again.” He shrugged. “Fearless people are our bread and butter.”
“So what kind of magic are you working here?” Bob asked.
The man from the haunted house company glanced at Alice. “How much do you want me to say?”
She smiled. “The truth, but not the whole truth. Just enough for an article that will make people wish these haunted houses were opening now instead of in a month.”
While the fright designer talked with the reporters and gave them an overview of the haunted carousel and the transformation of the arcade building, Alice moved closer to Nate and whispered, “How is your tour going?”
“Fine,” he said, not even looking at her.
So much for being on the same team.
“My meeting is also going well. Thanks for asking,” she said quietly. She waited for his reaction, but he didn’t give her a thing. This was going to be hard.
“These guys have terrifying minds,” she continued, undaunted by Nate’s stone face. “Exactly what we need for this project.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“Don’t you like haunted houses?” She remembered going through one with him while they were still in high school. They’d held each other close and laughed all the way through it. Had he liked it at the time or had he pretended to for her sake?
Nate shook his head just enough for Alice to notice. “I think real life is frightening enough most of the time.”
His tone implied that she was one of those frightening things. Her cheeks heated and the sensation radiated down her neck. With her auburn hair and pink dress, she was afraid she’d look like a boiled blushing lobster in a moment. She didn’t need his approval or even his friendship. After what happened five years ago, any kind of a relationship with Nate would require a miracle.
But she didn’t need to be treated as if she was public enemy number one.
“Would you say the haunted house is intended for all ages, like a family attraction?” the reporter asked.
“Everything at Starlight Point is family oriented,” Nate said.
“But there’s no way I’d take my little niece into one of these haunted houses,” Alice said.
“So...it’s not for all ages,” Bob said.
Nate cut Alice a look he might have given someone who ruined a surprise party by spilling the beans ahead of time.
“Look at this,” the haunted house man said to the reporter. He swiped through several screens on his phone, turned it sideways and showed it to the men from the Bayside Times.
“Whoa,” Jason said. “That man looks like he just saw his own funeral.”
The haunted house man laughed. “Seriously, look at their faces. We know how to scare them.” He turned to Alice and Nate. “Want to see these pictures of a haunted house we did in Tennessee last year?”
Alice was about to agree, her curiosity excited by the reaction of the reporters. But Nate said, “No,” in a cold, determined voice.
Everyone in the group looked at him, and he put on a winning smile. “I can’t wait to see the final product for myself. Don’t want to ruin it by looking at pictures of similar ones.”
The reporter and photographer shrugged and went back to looking at the pictures on the phone.
Alice shifted the stack of papers and folders she held so she could find a press kit from the haunted house company. It was the perfect thing to hand to the local media.
Suddenly, a breeze caught the edge of her papers and sent the top ones flying. When she tried to grab for them, the rest of the pile started to slide, and Alice’s shoulder bag skated down her arm. In a moment, everything would be on the ground or flying through the air.
Surprised by the sudden breeze and soaring papers, Alice was even more shocked when Nate deftly caught two papers midair and used his other hand to right her stack before it spiraled to the ground and spread out in a paperwork tsunami. Nate took the strap of her bag and put it back on her shoulder. As he helped her balance her pile of papers, his hand touched hers and he jerked it back as if he’d been burned. He flushed red and stepped back.
The other men stopped their conversation to stare.
“Paper cut,” Nate said. He locked eyes with Alice for a moment and the expression she saw in his eyes looked like panic.
Come on. Am I really that much of an ogre?
“Those are wicked,” the reporter said. “Paper cuts.”
Nate swallowed and nodded. “The worst.”
Alice took her bag off her shoulder and shoved all the papers in it. She didn’t even care about wrinkling them. She’d ask Haley to print new ones if she had to.
“I think we’re ready to move on to the haunted house in the shooting gallery,” she said pleasantly to her two consultants. She smiled at the reporter and photographer. “I don’t want to hold you up any longer. I’m sure you have a lot more ground to cover and a story to put out today.”
“We have plenty of material already, but I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s going on inside the shooting gallery,” Bob said. “People in town are pretty curious about what you’re cooking up here at the Point. I think you’re going to have a big success on your hands.”
“I sure hope so. I was one of the people who talked the Hamiltons into staying open all fall, so I’ll feel responsible if it doesn’t go well. As the special events coordinator, nothing is better than a happy ending.”
She heard Nate cough but didn’t glance his way. Instead, Alice squared her shoulders and focused on the reporter. “I can’t wait to tell you about the events we have planned for Christmas. I can’t say much now, but you might have noticed there’s a very large parking lot out front that would be perfect for something such as—” she put one finger on her chin and looked to the sky “—perhaps an ice skating rink or a Christmas tree lot.”
The reporter laughed. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re bringing in live reindeer and authentic elves.”
“I can’t reveal company secrets,” she said. “But if you know anyone who wants to get married, you can tell them there may be one weekend in December that isn’t booked yet for a Christmas wedding.”
Jason turned to the reporter and elbowed him. “Hear that, Bob? Maybe you and Shelly should make it official?”
