California Christmas Dreams
J.M. Jeffries
Former child star Meredith Alcott knows life isn’t like the movies. But now she has a chance to realize her own Hollywood dream by restoring a rundown amusement park to its former glory. Clashing with the owner’s arrogant, all-business son wasn’t in the job description…even as Jake Walters sweeps her into a romance she never wants to end. As financial adviser to the stars, Jake always has his eye on the bottom line. He doesn’t want an outsider anywhere near the legendary institution that’s been in his family for generations. Yet Meredith gets top billing when she’s hired to revamp his family’s park. The bewitching designer challenges him at every turn while arousing a passion that fulfills Jake’s wildest fantasies. But, sabotage threatens to turn all their passionate dreams to dust. Unless Jake can come up with a design for loving that keeps the magic going—and Meredith in his arms forever.
California Dreaming…
Former child star Meredith Alcott knows life isn’t like the movies. But now she has a chance to realize her own Hollywood dream by restoring a run-down amusement park to its former glory before Christmas. Clashing with the owner’s arrogant, all-business son wasn’t in the job description…even as Jake Walters sweeps her into a romance she never wants to end.
As financial adviser to the stars, Jake always has his eye on the bottom line. He doesn’t want an outsider anywhere near the legendary institution that’s been in his family for generations. Yet Meredith gets top billing when she’s hired to revamp his family’s park. The bewitching designer challenges him at every turn while arousing a desire that fulfills Jake’s wildest fantasies. But sabotage threatens to turn all their passionate hopes to dust. Unless Jake can come up with a loving plan that keeps the magic going past the holidays—and Meredith in his arms forever….
“Thank you for this evening.” The warmth of his knee pressed against hers. Heat exploded through her, spiraling down her spine in a burst of passion that made her gasp. “I enjoyed myself very much.”
He set his wine down on a nearby table and then took her hand. “For a moment, I thought I was going to lose you to the media.” He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed the tips.
“Not a chance.” Her skin tingled. She almost snatched her hand back at the flare of desire touching him roused in her. “Have you finally decided I’m not going to hurt your father?”
“I’ve decided I want to kiss you.” He slid his arms around her and pulled her to him. He leaned against a chair flanking the fireplace and gathered her close to him. She closed her eyes, taking in the feel of his body next to hers, his fingers on her skin.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. Her breath caught in her throat. His lips were warm and soft against her, and his breath fanned across her cheek. She breathed deeply of his scent, which was like a forest after a rain.
J. M. JEFFRIES
is the collaboration between two women who are lifelong romance-aholics. Jacqueline Hamilton grew up believing that life should always have a happy ending. Being a military brat, she has lived in some of the most romantic places in the world. An almost lawyer, Jackie decided to chuck it all, live her dream and become a writer. Miriam Pace grew up believing in fairy tales. She found her Prince Charming and has been married to him for thirty-seven years. Now a granny, she is reading fairy tales to her grandson.
California
Christmas
Dreams
J. M. Jeffries
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
Who doesn’t love roller coasters, carousels and waterslides? Theme parks have become a staple for entertainment and family fun, from the start of a theme park legacy in California to the mighty roller-coaster extravaganzas people love to fear.
I hope you enjoy Jake and Merry’s story as they find a way to bring a run-down amusement park back to life while facing both emotional challenges and personal choices. From romantic rides on the carousel to walks on the beach, Jake and Merry discover finding love is the greatest roller-coaster ride of all.
Much love,
Jackie and Miriam
J. M. Jeffries
Acknowledgments
Shannon Criss, thank you for believing in J. M. Jeffries.
Also, thank you to the wonderful, wonderful people at
Harlequin who work so hard for romance.
To Mark, who is fighting the good fight.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#ub8436af4-6318-5851-97e1-69bcf2ca2977)
Chapter 2 (#ud314b006-29d2-5b38-9524-fd20c1b8744a)
Chapter 3 (#u3c1f61d1-d99c-52cb-8e46-b4b25c901572)
Chapter 4 (#uaacebc62-734a-5e2b-b745-883e2bd9ec2c)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
Meredith Alcott sat stiffly in the HR director’s office, wondering what lurked behind Susan Moran’s smile. Susan was impeccably dressed in a platinum-gray suit and pink blouse, and had a pin in the shape of a turtle on the lapel of her jacket. Tully the Turtle, Susan’s favorite animated character, seemed to be waving at her, but Merry didn’t feel like waving back.
Susan’s straight hair was carefully brushed to one side and braided to hang down over her shoulder. Merry always felt a little grubby in Susan’s presence. Today was no different, no matter that she’d carefully styled her curly black hair and was wearing her most stylish black silk pantsuit.
Almost every surface in Susan’s office was decorated with Tully the Turtle memorabilia—from the huge turtle clock on the wall to the dainty watch on her wrist. Tully the Turtle had been Bernard and William Chapman’s original animated character and had made a fortune for the two men and their family. Enough that they could build their own studios and eventually their tie-in theme park.
Like Merry, Susan had been a child actress for Chapman Brothers Studios. The brothers took care of all their employees, even the child actors who’d grown up and left acting.
“I’ve been with the Chapman Brothers since I was a child, Susan,” Merry said patiently. “This is the second opening in the studio’s design department I’ve applied for in the past five years, and the second time I’ve been turned down. I would like to know why.” Merry gave a polite smile even as she dreaded the answer. In the back of her mind, she always wondered if she wasn’t good enough. Nonsense, she told herself sternly. She was good enough, but the nagging little doubt remained.
Susan straightened the pens lined up on the side of her desk. Everything about Susan was neat and tidy despite the clutter of her office. “Your credentials are impeccable and we appreciate your loyalty, but Lisa Chapman just graduated from college.” Susan paused, letting the information hang in the air. Then she sighed. “I take orders, too, and I’m so sorry you’re unhappy.” A look of regret passed over her face. She reached for a business card and a pencil, and started to write.
Merry nodded politely, swallowing her disappointment. She wanted to throw a good old-fashioned hissy fit: roll on the ground and scream and cry. Then she’d get fired, go broke and lose her house. She, her shoes and her cat would be homeless. That was a bit of an exaggeration; she did have money set aside. Thank goodness for residuals. But not even the residuals were enough to pay her mortgage and keep her in organic food. “Thank you, Susan, for talking to me.”
“I know you’re disappointed,” Susan said, adding something else to the business card in front of her. “This is the contact information for John Walters. He owns the Citrus Grove Entertainment Center in Riverside. I’ll be honest with you. Management is going to keep you dangling for another five years. And there’s no guarantee that the next opening that comes available will go to you. Maybe it’s time you made a change. Call this man and talk to him.”
Merry accepted the card, hiding her surprise. She put it in her pocket, stood up and smiled as cordially as she could. “I appreciate that,” she said. Then she turned and left the large, airy office.
In the parking garage, Merry leaned against her brand-new Prius hybrid car, trying not to cry. August heat swirled around her, making her silk blouse stick to her back. Lisa Chapman was family, and Merry understood that. But what about Merry? The Chapman brothers prized loyalty, and she’d been loyal. Giving the job she’d worked for to Lisa hurt. Did fresh-out-of-college Lisa Chapman know more about designing sets than Merry did?
When she’d heard that Eric Sloan was retiring, she’d bought a new car because she knew she was next in line to head the set-design department. She would get away from working in the theme park and move back into the TV-and-movie division, which would give her more opportunities.
She stroked the sexy, white, gas-efficient Prius for a moment, eyes closed, refusing to give in to her disappointment. The Chapman brothers knew how fleeting fame could be. As each child actor had grown up and out of the roles they played, they’d been given a place behind the scenes. Those who’d leveraged their abilities into full-blown acting careers had eventually left to continue their lives. Merry had stayed, and now she wondered why. The Chapmans had rewarded her loyalty by giving away the job she coveted to one of their own family, even though Lisa’s degree was so new the ink wasn’t dry. She’d interned at the park under Merry and had mentioned she’d wanted the job. Sure, she’d work for a salary half of what Merry would command, but that didn’t make it fair. Merry had been faithful to the Chapman brothers, but they hadn’t reciprocated.
She opened her car door and slid into the stuffy interior. She started the motor and waited for the air conditioner to spit out cold air before she put the thing in gear and headed back to Redlands. As much as she loved working for the Chapman Brothers theme park, she had the feeling she would never get out of it. She wanted more than just being told what to do and occasionally adding suggestions for the design of the rides, the seasonal display changes and the floral arrangements surrounding the ticket booths. She wanted more creative input. She didn’t want to be a gofer forever.
Just before she threw the car in gear, her phone rang. “Hi, Noelle.”
“Are we drinking, or are we shoe shopping?” her sister asked.
“We’re drinking,” Merry answered. Shoe shopping was the victory dance.
“Monkey nuts!” Noelle said. “What happened?”
“They gave the job to a relative who just graduated from University of California, Riverside.” Saying the words out loud upset her all over again. Merry had started working for the studio two days after her seventh birthday, appearing as an extra on a number of series before landing the role of Maddie Jefferson’s best friend. She’d loved working on Maddie’s Mad World, but she’d wanted to be the star of her own show. And now she was still stuck being second banana, which was why she’d left acting at eighteen to attend UCLA’s design school. She was a talented set designer, and she wanted to put those talents to use. Some people worked for a mouse, some for a duck and she worked for a turtle that seemed to move backward more often than forward.
“What are you going to do?” Noelle asked.
“I’m going to come over to your house after work, think about my options and drink all of your tequila.” She fingered the card Susan had given her. It had one name on it, John Walters, and his phone number. She’d heard about Citrus Grove Park. She’d even gone once to check it out, but hadn’t been impressed. The park was aging and showing its unadorned bones. It needed a face-lift and a Botox injection.
“I’ll make guacamole and put clean sheets on the spare bed,” Noelle said.
“I should be there around eight-thirty,” Merry replied and disconnected.
She put the Prius in gear and pulled out of the garage onto hot Burbank Street.
* * *
Jacob Walters sat in his office overlooking Hollywood Boulevard. Nineteen-year-old Annie Gray sat in front of him, her legs curled up under her, a kittenish, wide-eyed smile on her elfin face. She had a fey, waiflike look, as well as an atrocious sense of style. Today she wore pink shorts, a yellow shirt with some sort of odd design on it and purple lipstick. Her brown hair, pulled into an untidy braid, was streaked with dark pink and orange. Thick black liner around her blue eyes made her look like a raccoon.
“So tell me,” he said, “what exactly do you do with a ten-thousand-dollar belt?”
Annie pouted. “It’s Hermès. It’s a status symbol.”
Annie Gray was an up-and-coming recording artist with the voice of an angel, the beauty of a swan and the mouth of a truck driver. Annie’s mother had hired Jake to help her manage Annie’s money, but the singer was not being particularly cooperative.
“A symbol of what?” Jake asked, trying not to wince. As a financial advisor, he’d seen musicians come and go. Some came in poor and left poor, some came in poor and left rich. Annie wasn’t going to leave rich if she kept spending the way she was.
“It says I’m a star.” She batted her eyes at him.
He wanted to tell her she was stupid to think she would always be a star. “I know having money to spend on anything you want has its allure, but you have to think about the future.”
Annie shrugged. “I have enough money. I don’t need to worry.”
“You will if you keep buying ten-thousand-dollar belts.”
Again she shrugged. “I can’t do drugs no more, so I shop.”
Jake closed his eyes and prayed for patience. He would just have to ignore that issue. “Until you get back to work, you have to stick to your budget. On my advice, your mother canceled all your credit cards. You will be on a limited allowance until you’re working again.”
“You can’t do that. It’s my money.” She jumped to her feet, looking panicked.
“You just got out of rehab. Nobody cares who you were. And right now you’re a sort-of-famous, ex-junkie pop star whose only claim to fame is a song about sexting. I’m doing what I can to keep you solvent.”
She sauntered over to the edge of his desk, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt and pulling the edges apart to show more skin and an evil-looking tattoo that curled around the inside of her breast. She leaned over and smiled at him. “Come on, Jakie. My mummy will listen to you. Tell her I’ll be a good girl. Let me keep at least one credit card.”
Jake sighed. Phase two. If pouting didn’t work, try seduction. She ran her fingers up his arm and he pulled away. He was thirty-two years old and had seen just about everything in the ten years he’d worked as a financial advisor. He pressed a button under his desk and a moment later his assistant, Vicki, silently opened the door and entered. “Just so you know, my secretary is standing right behind you as a witness to this meeting.”
Annie jumped back and rebuttoned her blouse. “This isn’t over.”
Phase three: the threat. “You don’t seem to understand what a conservatorship means. You have no control over your money because you can’t be trusted. That is no one else’s fault but yours.”
“You’re fired,” she snapped.
“And you can’t fire me, either,” he said with a half smile as she moved to phase four. Like so many others before her, she was completely predictable. “I’ve seen it all, sweetie. Your mother has your best interests at heart and you need to grow up and listen to her.”
“If I’d listened to my mother, I would have gone to college and not been a star,” she snapped.
“If you’d gone to college, you could have taken an accounting class and learned to manage your own money.”
“You’re mean,” Annie said, the pout returning. “How do I know you’re not trying to rip me off and take a piece of the pie for yourself?”
Phase five, he thought, was questioning his ability to keep her solvent. “Probably because I have a lot more money than you do and don’t need your piddly little 1.6 million.” Which she wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been hired by her family.
“You’re just an accountant. You can’t have more money than me.” She lifted her chin defiantly as though he’d be intimidated.
He resisted the urge to laugh. “I don’t buy ten-thousand-dollar belts.” Or fancy cars, or designer clothes. He’d bought his last Mercedes SUV used and lived in a small house in the Hills that he’d bought in a foreclosure sale. The only areas he’d splurged on had been his bedroom and the kitchen. Jake liked to cook and he wanted the best appliances he could afford. He also liked to sleep comfortably, so he did purchase a custom-made Swiss mattress that was so comfortable he fell asleep almost the moment his head touched the pillow.
She stomped her foot. “I’m going to go see a lawyer.”
Phase six: the final threat—seeing a lawyer. “Fine,” he replied. “See you later.”
She marched out of the office, slamming the door so hard the photos on the walls bounced.
“She’s going to be trouble,” Vicki said.
“Like we haven’t had that before,” he said with a sigh. Most of his clients were trouble with a capital T. And Miss Gray was proving to be one of the bigger ones.
“This is a heck of a way to make a living,” Vicki said, straightening one of the photos that had slipped askew from Annie’s door slam.
“That’s why I love it.” And he did, despite the juvenile behavior of so many of his clients. He loved the challenge of putting them back on solid ground. Many of them appreciated his efforts, but a few, like Annie, chafed under his control.
“Your sister called,” Vicki said. “I said you’d get back to her.”
He picked up the phone as Vicki walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
He dialed his sister. Evelyn answered on the first ring as though she’d been standing right next to the phone.
“It’s Daddy. He’s lost his mind.”
Jake’s first thought was that his widowed father had run off with a twenty-year-old bimbo. Not that his father was easily led, but a pretty woman was a pretty woman, and he’d been a widower for a long time. “What’s going on?”
“He’s decided he’s not selling the park and is going to renovate instead. He’s already been to the bank and gotten a loan.”
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. He and his father had talked about this. John Walters had inherited his family’s orange groves and had proceeded to turn them into an amusement park. With the downturn in the economy, the park had been suffering until Jake had finally convinced his father to sell to developers who’d been trying to get their hands on the property for nearly ten years.
“Did you hear me, Jake?” Evelyn asked, her voice sharp.
“I’m trying to pretend this is just a bad dream, but I heard you.”
“He’s turning his nose up at thirty million dollars,” Evelyn huffed. “And he’s planning some huge Christmas extravaganza to reopen the park with and has hired some woman, a has-been child actress to do the decorations at an obscene salary. She’s going to bankrupt him. Probably trying to bankroll her comeback.”
“That’s Dad’s decision,” Jake said calmly, though he agreed with his sister. Thirty million dollars was a lot of money to turn down to keep an aging amusement park open.
“I beg your pardon?” Evelyn asked, almost angrily.
“He doesn’t need the money,” Jake said. Jake’s father had been his first client. Originally his mother had handled the finances, but when she’d passed away, Jake had taken over even though he had only been sixteen. Jake had found he was good at handling money, and by the time he’d graduated high school he’d known exactly what he was going to do for a living.
“That’s not the point,” Evelyn replied. “He’s sixty-seven years old and should be sailing off into the sunset with one of his, you know, one of his honeys. He should be enjoying life instead of being at the park from six in the morning until midnight. He works too hard. He should be enjoying his retirement.”
“So you think Dad should sail off into the sunset with some gold digger?” The image amused Jake. While his father enjoyed the charms of the opposite sex, he wasn’t about to ask one on a cruise or be swayed to give her money.
“As if you’d let anyone touch his money,” Evelyn scoffed.
Jake said nothing as his thoughts raced. His father was of sound mind and body. And even though Jake had argued for the sale, he’d seen that his father was torn. On one hand, the amusement park was a family legacy, but on the other hand, it was a lot to take care of.
“What are you going to do?” Evelyn asked.
“Nothing.” He was disappointed in his father’s decision but not terribly surprised. His father was having a hard time letting go of his family’s heritage. Family meant a lot to John Walters.
“But...”
“Sis,” Jake interrupted, “the property belongs to him, and he’s of sound mind.”
“We all agreed he would sell. He sat at the dinner table with us and listened to our arguments and agreed with everything we said. My God, if he’s going to keep that damn park, my son is going to want to work there again. He’s already talking about skipping college and working for his grandpa, ruining his entire future.”
“He’ll change his mind.” He loved his sister. Evelyn had worked hard to get her doctorate in physics. She now taught at Cal State, San Bernardino and was on track to head the department.
Evelyn ground her teeth in frustration. “Can’t we go to court and stop him somehow?”
“Do you really want to try to have our father declared incompetent?”
A strangled sob came to him through the phone. “No, I guess not. It’s not your kids he’s filling with ideas that life is an amusement park and a little orange marmalade on sourdough toast will solve everything.”
Jake half smiled. His father had tried to sell him and Evelyn the same dream, but they hadn’t been converted.
“I’ll talk to him,” Jake promised, and ended the call.
He leaned back in his chair and looked out the window at the cloudless, blue Los Angeles sky. In the distance he could see the huge Hollywood Hills sign. One of the reasons he’d taken this spot was because he loved looking at the sign.
Evelyn was right; the man had lost his mind. Jake had spent six months putting the sale together, and his father was supposed to take the money and relax for the rest of his life. What had happened? He reached for the phone, intending to call his father, but then decided maybe a trip to Riverside would be better.
Chapter 2
Merry stood in the center of her new office looking around. The room was a bit dingy, with gray paint on the walls, limp blinds on the windows and a battered desk, but she’d fix that with a little paint. A worktable was pushed against one wall, angled to catch the light from the window. The desk was a little battered, but Merry was a master at making old things look new again. Her whole house was a testament to her ability to take anything and make it look fresh and inviting.
She opened a box and started rummaging through it. Christmas lights spilled out. She found her electronic Santa Claus and hugged it. Her father had given it to her for her birthday. One of the things she’d hated as a child had been the fact she’d been born on Christmas, but her mother had solved the dilemma and celebrated her birthday on July 25. But that didn’t stop her father from giving her Christmas-themed gifts. As an airline pilot, he traveled the world and often brought back unique items for Merry and her sister.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened and John Walters walked in. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a round face, close-cropped gray hair already turning white and twinkling brown eyes. “Are you decorating for Christmas already? It’s August.”
“Getting in the mood,” she answered. She placed the Santa on the corner of her desk and plugged it in. “And looking for inspiration. I don’t have a lot of time to plan the Christmas decorations and get them up for your grand reopening.” John wanted to open the day after Thanksgiving and she had a lot of work to do. She pressed the button on the Santa and “Jingle Bell Rock” blared out at her. She grinned, suddenly feeling happier than she had since she’d made her decision to leave the safety of the Chapman Brothers theme park.
She’d always have a job with them, but accepting John’s offer gave her a new opportunity to shine. She didn’t want to play second banana anymore. She wanted more.
The song ended and John grinned at her. He looked into the box and pulled out another package of Christmas lights. “This is a good start.”
“Since you’re here, would you like to see my preliminary sketches?” She walked over to her worktable and turned on the light. She’d spent the past week measuring the park, the footprints of the different rides, the pathways between them and the orange trees that dotted the park. From that she’d worked up a blueprint that gave her an aerial view, though she was going to need more detail. She flipped open her notebook. “I’ve done four themes for you,” she said. “Christmas in California is the first one.”
John nodded as he glanced at the large drawing. She’d drawn a schematic diagram of the park, highlighting each section. John’s original concept for his park had been to showcase the variety of activities Southern California had to offer. The Los Angeles area had its own unique activities. A person could spend the morning at the beach, then the afternoon skiing in the mountains or looking at the stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. John had tried to integrate those ideas into his park. Merry had to figure out how to layer a Christmas theme over the different sections and keep it cohesive with the original concept. She’d worked out four different ideas she thought could work. “I like this,” John said, pointing at her first idea of implementing the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. She’d decorated the orange trees with lights and added some gift boxes with large bows to the base of a tree. She’d sketched in various L.A. landmarks, such as the Hollywood sign, in various places near the different rides.
“This is a Currier and Ives Christmas,” she said, turning the page to show him the next one.
He glanced at the sleigh pulled by reindeer and nodded slightly. Another scene showed singers dressed in nineteenth-century garb. The third scene was a fireplace with stockings hanging from it and the fourth was a cute display of a Christmas tree lit up and decorated with bows.
“I’m not sure about this one,” John said.
She showed him the third idea, Christmas Around the World, and he disliked it immediately. The fourth theme, Hollywood Christmas, was a series of scenes from different Christmas movies.
“That’s a strong possibility,” John said, but he turned back to the first one. “I think this is the one to go with. I love the Hollywood Christmas, but Christmas in California is more accessible to children.”
“Okay, then,” she said with a smile. Christmas in California was her favorite, too. She wondered if she could convince her mother or her sister to make a stained glass Christmas tree for the entrance.
“I’m glad you’re here,” John said.
“Me, too,” Merry said. She folded the rejected drawings and started making mental lists in her head. “I think my budget will just cover all of this.” If she were really, really careful. Luckily her mother had taught her to pinch a penny until it turned into a quarter.
“Good. Get going.”
After John left, she found herself wandering out into the park, seeing it in her mind’s eye and planning the different areas. With the park empty, she could visualize the different sections and what they would look like. The Chapman Brothers theme park was never empty. Visitors thronged the park during the day, and the cleanup and maintenance crews worked at night.
* * *
Jake stood off to the side in the shade of an orange tree, watching the former child actress as she walked around the park. She wore jeans, a white T-shirt and sneakers. Curly black hair hung down to her shoulders. Her skin was the color of caramel cream, and she looked very intense as she held a notebook in her hand. Every few feet she’d stop and write something in the notebook. Then she’d turn her head first one way then another as she studied what she was looking at. Then she’d write in her notebook again and move forward a few more feet.
She was cute in a waiflike manner with slightly tilted dark eyes and smiling mouth. He remembered her from Maddie’s Mad World. He’d loved the show when he was a kid and had had a bit of a crush on Maddie’s best friend, Chloe, as played by Meredith Alcott. And seeing Chloe in the flesh made his fingers tingle while a little shiver walked up and down his spine.
His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the display. He had to answer this one.
“Jake Walters,” he said, and braced himself.
“You said your father was ready to sell,” Harry Constantine said angrily. “What’s going on, Walters? Did he have a better offer that I don’t know about?”
Actually, Jake had had a number of offers once the word had gotten out his dad was thinking of selling, but he wasn’t about to tell Constantine that. “I’m sorry, Mr. Constantine, but he just doesn’t want to part with the park yet.”
“My partners and I are deeply annoyed at this interruption to the deal.”
“There hasn’t been a deal yet. The property belongs to my father, sir,” Jake said stiffly, wondering why Constantine thought he was going to be the one. “He doesn’t have to sell if that is his decision.”
“I wasted months of my time putting this offer together and getting investors. And now he decides he doesn’t want to sell! That property is ready to be developed. There are five new housing projects in development in that area. Does he want more money? I’ll toss another million on the pile.”
“Money isn’t the issue, sir.” Jake wanted to be polite to this man, but his normal level of diplomacy was quickly becoming strained.
“I’ve wanted to purchase this property for ten years,” Harry said, his voice rising.
“Sir, I apologize for my father, but he changed his mind and that is his prerogative. Since no papers have been signed, he can do that.”
“I’m talking to my lawyers.” Constantine disconnected and Jake found himself listening to dead air.
That didn’t go well, he thought. He wondered who would be calling next. Probably Alicia Mortensen at Kessler Investments. She and her investors had made an offer, as well. Alicia was a predator and a longtime rival of Constantine. Jake didn’t want to think about all the people his father had probably antagonized because of his decision. So he went back to watching the actress. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that he doubted she’d even noticed him.
He finally found himself walking up to her. She looked up at his approach and his head did a little lurch inside his chest. She’d been pretty as a teenager, but she was beautiful now. Beautiful in a way that took his breath away. She was petite, maybe an inch or two over five feet, and had a trim, slender figure with curves in all the right places. Her face was long and a bit narrow, framed by shoulder-length black hair with a hint of curl. Her mouth was bold and pouty, and her brown eyes were intense with a fire that took his breath away.
He wondered what kind of a person she was. In his mind, actors had such fragile egos. He figured he could intimidate the hell out of her and she’d back off. Maybe even quit, and then Jake could talk to his father again. Before he had a chance to say anything, his phone rang again. He glanced at the display. “Ah, Alicia Mortensen.” He sent the call to voice mail. He would deal with her later.
He walked right up to the actress, and before he could open his mouth, she smiled at him and he found himself speechless, caught up in her hypnotizing beauty. He felt like a gulping fish.
“Hi.” A light breeze fluttered the tips of her curly black hair. Up close, her brown eyes had the tiniest bit of green in them.
“You must be Chloe.” That was original.
Her eyebrows went up in surprise. “I think you have me confused with the name of the character I played on Maddie’s Mad World.” Her voice was sultry and low. “My name is Merry. Meredith Alcott.”
“I know,” Jake replied, chagrined at his mistake. “I’ve always wondered what child actors did after they retired.”
“Some of us get jobs, some of us go into rehab, some of us just drop out of sight,” she replied sweetly.
“I’m glad you’re not in rehab.” That sounded pretty foolish. He couldn’t come up with something better?
“Me, too,” she said.
“How are you planning to separate my old man from his money?”
Her eyebrows rose and she chuckled. “You must be Jake. Your sister was a bit more subtle than you.” She studied him for a second and then stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Was that sarcasm? He opened his mouth to say something. Again, nothing came out. Apparently she wasn’t threatened by him, or by his sister, and Evelyn was a bulldozer. So much for her being a frail, fragile actress. She watched him, her jaw set in determination and a look in her eyes that told him there was nothing frail or fragile about her. He looked down at her hand and saw ink smudged on two fingers. She had beautiful hands, with long, slender fingers and nails buffed to shine. He took her hand and shook it, surprised at the firmness of her grip and the softness of her skin. For a moment, wild thoughts chased themselves through his mind until he pushed them away.
“Um,” he said. “Likewise.” She wasn’t going to rabbit on him, so what was step number two? He should have planned this better.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and spend your dad’s money.” She turned on her heel and walked away, her head held high.
Jake stared after her. What the hell had just happened? That petite woman had just put him in his place.
His phone rang and he retrieved it from the holder on his belt. He glanced at the caller ID. Mel Vaughn, one of his particularly difficult clients.
He answered the call. “Mel.” Jake closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m buying my child’s mother a car,” Mel launched into his pitch. “I found this hot Ferrari that would be perfect for me—I mean her.”
“And where would she put a kid’s car seat?” Jake asked. He’d signed off on a SUV.
“Hey, man, the Ferrari is perfect.”
“I said you could buy a minivan or an SUV.”
“Minivans aren’t sexy,” Mel whined.
And being in debt to your hairline is? “I signed off on thirty thousand for a car. You have to stick with your budget.”
“I can’t think about a budget,” Mel whined again. “Have a heart.”
Mel Vaughn was twenty-six years old, but he was acting like a child. When he’d hit bankruptcy, the court had appointed Jake to unravel his finances. Now Mel wanted a Ferrari when he still owed the IRS a chunk of change.
Jake leaned against a fence as he watched Merry measure the diameter of a small children’s ride. Every time she bent over to measure something, his pulse leaped into overdrive.
“Mel,” Jake said patiently. “You can’t buy a Ferrari until after you pay the IRS your back taxes. If you buy a Ferrari after the deal I brokered for you with the IRS, they’ll come after you.”
“How are they going to find out?”
The first thing Mel would do was tweet his purchase, post a picture on his Instagram account and announce it on his Facebook page. “Do you think a high-profile case like yours isn’t going to be scrutinized? People care about what you do, Mel. And trust me, the IRS monitors everything. The purchase of a Ferrari will not stay a secret for long.”
“How am I going to explain it to her?” Mel asked, his whining going up a notch.
“Have her call me. I’ll be the bad guy.”
“But she’s got her heart set on this Ferrari.”
“Then she can pay for it. Thirty grand is all you’re getting. Because thirty grand is all you have to spare. You’re barely swimming above water, Mel.” Mel was starting his career all over again. “No Ferrari,” Jake said flatly. “Don’t ask me again.” He disconnected, not wanting to hear Mel continue to beg.
When Jake had decided on finance for his career, he’d thought dealing with celebrities would be glamorous and fun. But the reality was much harsher. He loved his job, and he loved the challenge of fixing people’s broken finances, but he didn’t always like the people.
His gaze landed on Merry again. She’d moved on to another ride and stood in front of it with her sketchbook cradled in one arm while her pencil moved up and down. Jake studied her, wondering what her finances looked like. She must have socked away some money, since her series had run for five years until both she and her costar had grown out of their parts. She’d done a few movies afterward, but nothing in the past decade. She drove a Prius. In a background check, he’d found out she’d been transitioned to working in the Chapman Brothers theme park as an assistant set designer, since that seemed to be something she’d enjoyed, but most of her background was a big question.
She knelt down in front of an orange tree. She measured the base and made a note in her sketchbook. Even though she was dressed in a practical manner, he could see that her jeans were well made, and though not high-end designer jeans, they weren’t something she’d picked up at a discount department store.
“Jacob,” his father said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Caught by surprise, Jake forced his attention away from the distracting woman to his father. “Got here a few minutes ago.”
His father gave him a shrewd glance. “Pretty, isn’t she?”
Jake pulled his gaze away from Merry to look at his dad. “I thought we had agreed to sell the park.”
His dad’s gaze darkened. “I changed my mind,” he said defiantly. “I don’t want to sell.”
“Dad, I know you didn’t care much for Harry Constantine. He can be a bit of a hard-ass, but his offer is a good one. If you don’t like his offer, Alicia Mortensen at Kessler Investments is interested. I’ve had a number of other queries about this property.”
“I don’t want to sell,” John said, a mulish look on his face.
“This park hasn’t done more then break even in years. People who come to Los Angeles go to Chapman Brothers, Knotts Berry Farm, Universal Studios or Disneyland. They don’t come to Riverside.”
“I’m not looking to attract the international traveler. A lot of local people can’t afford a hundred bucks to get into a big, fancy park. For a family of four, that’s four hundred dollars. That was my house payment when your mom and I first got married, and that was high-end. Locals can come here for thirty per person, have a great time and go home feeling like they haven’t dropped a bundle. I’m not looking for the international traveler, but the local people who don’t want to compete with the whole world for a day of fun.”
“I think you’re making a mistake, Dad,” Jake said wearily, yet still determined to make one last pitch. “You can’t compete with the big people, and I don’t care how cheap you make it.”
“I never wanted to be a big-ticket park.” His father shook his head. “Do you think people don’t remember Citrus Grove? Half the people who work here were attendees before they ever got a job here. And a lot of people come because their parents came here. We are about family memories. We’re a vital part of this city. I never expected you or your sister to take over the park. It was never your thing, but John II loves it here. He’s the future. He’s why I changed my mind about selling.”
“But Dad,” Jake said in the soothing tone he used on his more agitated clients, “you’re sixty-seven.” I’m not giving up, Jake thought, just making a strategic retreat. Though he had to admire the passion in his father.
His father’s gaze rested on Merry. “Sixty-seven is the new forty,” his father retorted. “I don’t want to retire, Jacob. I want to get up every morning and find new ways to make people happy.”
In his pocket his phone vibrated, but he ignored it. It was probably Alicia Mortensen; she didn’t like being ignored. “Don’t you want to sit back and have some fun?”
“I am having fun. I’m having fun with my grandkids. I’m having fun with my customers. I’m even having fun with Miss Alcott. You see her over there,” John continued with a broad smile. “She’s having fun, too.”
Jake followed his father’s gaze. “She’s measuring a tree.”
“Even the tree knows how to have fun, unlike you.”
“I know how to have fun.” He tried to think of the last time he’d actually had fun that didn’t include a neurotic client. He came up blank.
“Really,” John said, with a piercing look at his son.
Merry glanced up and waved at John. John waved back, his face alight with happiness. For a moment, Jake was transported back to his childhood, going round and round on the carousel. He’d been happy at that moment, but even then he’d known the park wasn’t his destiny. He’d always wondered why the magic of the park had never worked for him or for Evelyn.
“Miss Alcott is a retired child actress,” Jake said.
“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.
“Cecil,” Jake said. “What can I do for you?”
“I found a house,” Cecil said without any other formality.
Cecil wanted a prestigious address. “Okay, tell me about it,” Jake said, preparing himself for the coming fight.
“It’s just a bungalow in Santa Monica.”
“And how much is this bungalow going for.”
“Six point five mil, man. I can afford that.”
Jake sighed. “You can afford to buy the house, but don’t you want to put some furniture in it, pay the utilities, put some food on the table for your kids?”
“But if I buy this house, it means I’m back on top, man. I can get out of this dump.”
“Hollywood Hills is not a dump, Cecil,” Jake said with another sigh.
“I’d be a lot closer to work,” Cecil stated. “And I can live in a real house.”
“You’re living in a real house.”
“I’m living with my mother.”
“There’s no shame in that. Your lawyer and I have worked really hard to get you back to the point where you could afford a house. But six point five million is way out of your price range. Buy something you can pay for outright and not have to worry about a house payment again.”
“Jake, I want this house.”
“Cecil, your children want to eat.”
“The schools are good,” Cecil said, changing the direction of his argument.
“And your kids are already going to one of the best magnet schools in the Hollywood Hills, and Cecil Jr. is in one of the best music programs.”
“It’s Santa Monica, man.”
“Cecil, you’re not talking me into this. I gave you a budget and that’s what you’re going to follow. The real estate agent found four houses in Hollywood Hills you can afford. You can send your kids to great schools and have your studio in your house. If you buy this house, all you’re going to have is a house. If you buy one of the four houses in the Hollywood Hills I suggested you look at, you’ll have a life. So you have a decision to make.”
“I want that house.”
“Okay,” Jake conceded. “You’re telling me your ego is more important than your future or your children’s future.”
“That’s not right, man.”
“But it’s the truth,” Jake replied. And everyone laughed at me when I majored in finance with a minor in psychology. He heard a long-suffering sigh from the other end of the phone and knew he’d won the argument. Cecil was a challenge, but he eventually accepted Jake’s arguments. He disconnected and Jake went back to the window.
Merry was standing in front of the carousel. She tilted her head from side to side. Jake watched her, running the conversation with Cecil over again in his head. He’d managed Cecil without any problem. How come he couldn’t use the same skills with her? He should have been able to talk her around to what he wanted, yet he’d tried to intimidate her instead. He was used to working with difficult people, and she wasn’t even trying to be difficult. She was trying to do her job.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He stared at her, and for a moment he felt fifteen years old again, watching her on TV, knowing she was way beyond him and he would never get her no matter how much he fantasized. How crazy was that? He’d been dealing with people like her for fifteen years, yet around her he was completely clueless.
If he couldn’t force her to his way of thinking, maybe he should try flattery. Stroke her ego a bit. He pondered that idea for a minute. He was used to stroking fragile egos; he could do this.
He opened the door to his office and stepped out into the September heat. Heat waves shimmered from the sidewalks. After a glance at the thermometer, he started toward her. She had climbed onto the carousel and was studying one of the hand-carved animals. She sat down on a bench and opened her ever-present sketchbook.
“Did you know that carousel can also mean horse ballet?” Jake asked as he swung up on the platform. A glance at her sketchbook showed him she was drawing the horse. She frowned slightly as she added a flourish to the mane and then looked up at him.
“That’s beautiful. I can see why a carousel could be called a horse ballet.”
Jake stroked the horse she’d sketched. “All the horses on this carousel were hand carved in Germany in 1896.” He smiled, remembering how much he’d loved riding the carousel as a child. “Want to see my favorite horse?” He held out his hand, and after a slight hesitation, she took it. He pulled her to her feet, led her around to the back and stopped in front of a white horse with a flowing blue mane. “When I was a kid, I used to pretend I was a knight of the Round Table and this was my trusty steed.” Joy filled him as the pleasant memories returned. “And I would win the gold ring and present it to my princess.”
“Really,” she said, her dark eyes showing a touch of cynicism.
“You’ve never played make-believe?”
“Sure I did. Five days a week, eight hours a day for eleven years, until I outgrew the roles and decided to go to college.”
“Why didn’t you keep on acting? You were good.”
“I got tired of playing the second banana. Then the roles started slowing down. I was never going to be lead-actress material. I had to make a life decision, and I decided to leave.”
“Do you miss being catered to, fawned over and treated special, the way only actors are treated?”
She studied him. “No. That was not allowed in my mother’s world.”
“You mean you had a crazy mom manager.”
“I wish,” she said. “My mom wasn’t my manager and she isn’t crazy, but the one time I acted crazy, she snatched my butt home and wouldn’t let me go back until I apologized to the entire crew. I even had to write a letter to Fred Chapman. The worst thing that ever happened to my career was when she had lunch with Ron Howard’s mother at the studio.”
“What do you mean?” Jake asked curiously.
“Apparently Ron Howard’s mom didn’t believe in children giving B.S. to their fellow actors. My mom didn’t believe in it, either. I was taught to be respectful of others and consider them before I considered myself. And one tantrum from me shut the set down for almost a day until I apologized for my behavior.”
“You mom sounds like one hell of a woman.” He couldn’t help a spurt of admiration.
“Her presence is a ‘no madness’ zone,” Merry said in a rueful tone.
“If more of my clients had mothers like yours, I’d be out of business.”
“What exactly do you do?” She ran her fingers down the neck of a zebra with flowers for a mane. She smiled as she stroked it.
“I’m in financial-crisis management. In other words, I help high-risk clients handle their finances when they can’t do it themselves. Sometimes the court appoints me as their conservator. I take them in hand, heal their financial problems and get them out of trouble with creditors, the IRS or any other government agency they might owe money to.”
“That’s gotta be tough,” she replied.
“No kidding.”
“How do you get into something like that? I do see a need. A lot of the kids I worked with were broke by the time they were twenty. They could have used you. Especially Maddie.” Her eyes turned sad.
“Maddie?”
“From Maddie’s Mad World. Maddie Blake. She was the star and blew all her money on clothes she didn’t need, gambling at the local casinos, living so lavishly she once had four expensive sports cars. You can only drive one car at a time, so why would anyone want four?”
“Her mother should have stopped her,” he said, knowing how easy it was to be seduced by so much money and thinking it would be endless.
“Her mother makes Dina Lohan look like Mother Teresa.”
He shrugged. “What about you?”
“I’m not wealthy,” she replied. “But my mother was a smart cookie. She negotiated a lower up-front salary for me and higher residuals, so the money kept coming when the shows went into reruns. Thank you, God, for Hulu and Netflix.”
“Your parents didn’t raid your trust fund?”
She laughed. “They didn’t need my money. My dad is an airline pilot and my mom is a successful artist.”
“How do you invest your money to keep up a stream of income?” he asked. It wasn’t any of his business, but he was curious. He so seldom worked with someone who understood the value of an investment portfolio.
She studied him as though trying to decide how much to tell him. “I have some real estate in Santa Ana, stocks and cash. My mother worked with someone like you to make sure I’d be secure the rest of my life as long as I don’t get stupid and spend it all.”
“So you really don’t have to work if you don’t want to?” And she was wise with her money. That made him feel better, knowing she wasn’t after his father’s money.
“I have a mortgage payment just like everyone else in the world. My residuals are nice to get, but not enough to pay it. Besides, I like working,” she said, an almost defensive tone in her voice. “I’d go crazy if I didn’t have something to do. I’m not the kind of person to sit around and twiddle my thumbs. What’s with the third degree? I’m not skimming money from your father.”
“Sorry. I really didn’t mean to imply you were stealing from my dad.”
“Yes, you did,” she said tartly.
“I know he wants to make people happy. He’s not in a business that’s out to get other people. But I still have to make sure the money goes where it’s supposed to go. That it’s not frittered away on stupid things.”
“I don’t fritter money away on stupid things,” she answered hotly. “My reputation is on the line. If any whisper of misappropriation of funds even gets started, I’ll never get another job in the entertainment field. I’m not going to risk that. I love what I do. Even as far back at being on Maddie’s Mad World, I used to rearrange the set to make it feel warmer, or more cozy, or just plain fun. Even then I knew if the acting didn’t pan out, I’d go into set design.”
“So you have no aspirations for a movie career?”
She shrugged. “If it was going to happen, it would have, but it didn’t. One of the things I learned very early was that your fifteen minutes of fame is over pretty quick. And there’s more to life than trying to relive that moment.”
Damn, he couldn’t find any chinks in her armor. In fact, knowing she was self-reliant and ethical gave him a small feeling of relief. But this was his father, and Jake still had to protect him. Since his mother’s death, John had faltered a time or two with women who’d wanted to suck him dry. Jake had stepped in each time and exposed them for what they were.
“If you’re worried about your legacy, you don’t need to be. I’m not going to touch it. I’m just here to help your dad get this place back on its feet. It’s a great place and has so much potential. It just needs a little more TLC.” She stepped into the stirrup of a horse and sat down on the saddle. “Stop being a stodgy old banker and let’s go for a ride.” She grinned at him infectiously.
His stared at her for a moment. “Sure, why not?” He stepped across the platform to the center of the carousel, started the motor and turned on the music. As the motor warmed up, he found himself grinning. “Ready?” he asked over his shoulder.
“You bet,” came her answer.
He put the motor in gear and the carousel began to turn, the music blasting out from the speakers. He grabbed a pole, pulled himself up and mounted the horse next to her. Her eyes were closed as she gripped the pole in front of her. Her horse went up and down, and she looked absolutely content.
Chapter 4
A knock sounded at the door to Merry’s office, and a second later it flew open to reveal her sister, Noelle. Noelle Alcott was an inch taller and a year younger than Merry with a willowy frame, pixie-cut black hair and laughing brown eyes.
“I brought you a present,” Noelle said, handing Merry a small glass bear wearing a Christmas hat.
“Is this your new line?” The little glass bear fit in the palm of Merry’s hand. Noelle was a glass blower.
“Isn’t it cute?” Noelle strolled around Merry’s office, stopping to study each drawing hanging on the wall. “It’s Santa Benny Bear.”
Merry laughed. “Named after the park mascot.”
“Listening to you talk about all this inspired me.”
“We can sell these here. They’ll walk out of the store.”
“I’d rather they ran out of the store,” Noelle said. She stopped in front of one drawing showcasing the old ghost-town buildings that housed local vendors and their products. Merry was giving it a facelift, and a construction crew was currently hammering away, making her plan into reality.
The buildings were currently in a long line, and Merry would have liked to move them around to create a more village-like feel, but that would be for another facelift.
“You want to see the park?” Merry asked, jumping down off her stool and turning off the gooseneck lamp that lit her worktable.
“That’s why I’m here,” Noelle said.
Merry handed her a large, floppy-brimmed sunhat and placed another one on her own head. September had turned into a scorcher, with bright cloudless skies and one-hundred-plus degrees and rising.
Merry had set up a three-part plan for the renovation of the park. Once it was open again, the second part would be to start planting trees for shade. Why the park had no shade trees, she didn’t understand.
“How’s the new boss?” Noelle asked as they stepped into the fierce sunshine.
“He is driving me insane,” Merry said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “He counts every penny I want to spend and then tells me I have to bring the job in for ten percent less. He questions every move I make. And he watches me.”
Noelle’s eyebrows rose. “You make him sound like a stalker.”
“I think he follows me home.” She led her sister toward the old ghost-town buildings. “Overall, I’m seven percent underbudget and things are getting done, but I have to justify every moment of my time when I’m here. And let me tell you, it’s no fun.”
She could hear the banging and hammering as they approached the ghost town. A construction crew had begun extensive repairs on the roofs. “John is such a honey to work for, but Jacob is a tyrant.”
“Tyrants can be tamed,” Noelle said.
Merry’s eyebrows went up. “Why should I bother?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you get a funny look on your face when you talk about him.” Noelle’s gaze was mischievous.
Merry opened the door to one of the buildings and led Noelle inside. The retail area was small and intimate. Ever since Noelle had asked about selling her glassware at the park, Merry had been thinking about which store would work for her. And she’d narrowed it down to two.
“What are you trying to say, sis?” Merry watched her sister study the room. She pulled a measuring tape out of her pocket and started to measure the room. She pulled a notebook out of her back pocket and marked down the length of each wall.
“Oh, nothing,” Noelle replied. “I was just being sisterly, chatty, friendly.”
“Why are you here again?”
Noelle laughed. “Because somebody needs to ruffle your little feathers.”
“Consider my feathers ruffled.”
“I’ve done my job. How much is this space going for? I like this one.”
Merry could see that her mind was already figuring out the possibilities for showcasing her glassware to the best possible advantage. “Why do you want your own store? I thought you were doing well in the galleries.” She took her phone out of her pocket and started snapping photos of the shop from every angle.
Noelle sighed. “Things have slowed down. So I’m doing smaller projects, knickknacks, jewelry....”
“Are things that bad?” Merry asked.
Noelle shrugged. “The little things are selling well. I’m working harder, but people are only spending money on little luxuries.”
Noelle’s glassware was museum quality. She’d even designed a garden of glass flowers and trees that echoed like musical chimes.
“But you’ve had a number of large commissions,” Merry said, puzzled. “Didn’t you design the atrium in one of the Las Vegas hotels?”
“I did, but it didn’t result in more commissions. Lots of oohs and ahhs, but no more business. The money came from making miniature copies of the large flowers and selling those in the gift shops,” Noelle said. She measured another wall and made some notes in her spiral notebook. “And that got me thinking about your park and maybe opening my own retail store. This way, I bypass the middleman. I can hire some people to work here and have more time to work in the studio.”
“Let’s talk to John, then,” Merry said, stepping to the door and pulling it open.
Jake stood on the other side, one hand raised as though he’d been about to enter. “Jake,” Merry said. “Did you need something?”
Noelle scooted past Merry, her gaze calculating as she studied Jake.
“Dad said you might have a renter for this unit. I came to check it out.” He looked at Noelle questioningly. “And you must be...?”
Noelle held out her hand. “I’m Noelle, Merry’s baby sister, though I’m only a year younger,” she said with a grin. “You must be Jake.”
He looked startled. “Nice to meet you.”
“Funny, you don’t look like Scrooge.”
Merry glared at her sister. She wanted to die. How could Noelle say such a thing?
He laughed a little uneasily. “I see we’ve been sharing sister confidences.”
“Which were supposed to be confidential,” Merry said, seriously considering slapping her hand over Noelle’s mouth.
Noelle waved her hand.
“What do you do?” Jake asked politely.
“I’m a blower,” Noelle said with a grin.
Merry pinched the bridge of her nose. Her sister just loved to toss that one out to strangers.
“A what...?”
“Noelle’s a glass blower,” Merry said hastily.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a glassblower. I didn’t even know there was such a thing,” he replied. He cast a glance at Merry and she could see he was comparing her to her sister.
“So you’re thinking about renting space,” Jake said.
“Yes, I am,” Noelle replied.
Jake tilted his head. “I’m trying to visualize this.”
“I do glass jewelry, knickknacks like little glass flowers or for this park, I did a little Benny the Bear. It’s in Merry’s office.”
His eyebrows went up. “Do those kinds of things sell?”
“I thought I’d theme my products to the park, like carousel horses, Benny the Bear, maybe orange paperweights, and some of my own jewelry creations. People want classy mementos, they don’t want cheesy stuff.”
Jake looked thoughtful. “I have an errand to run. Why not meet me in my office in thirty minutes?” He shook her hand and walked away.
Merry was stunned. Except for their afternoon on the carousel, she’d never seen him be this civil before.
Noelle studied him as he walked away. When he was out of sight, she pulled Merry back into the building and gave her sister a crushing hug. “He’s a hottie. Wrapped a little too tight, but still hot.”
“He’s my boss, Noelle.”
“Tell me you’re not having inappropriate thoughts about him.”
Merry’s cheeks blazed with heat. “I don’t have inappropriate thoughts.”
“Then appropriate ones,” Noelle said.
“Some days I want to stick a pickax in his head. That’s the most appropriate thought I can come up with at the moment.” Though at other times, she wanted to jump his bones. She didn’t like that she had hot thoughts about him. “Besides, he’s not my type.”
Noelle burst out laughing. “Sweetie, he’s every girl’s type.”
“Have at it, Noelle.”
“I think not. Did you see the way he looked at you?”
“With scorn and distrust?”
“Girl, he likes you.”
Merry rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. The only things that man likes are money, control and power. You should hear how he talks to his clients. Like they’re five years old.”
Noelle shook her head. She opened the door and stepped out into the hot September afternoon. “From what you’ve already told me, I suspect most of them act like five-year-olds.”
“Come on, let’s go back to my office. You’ll probably want to take your little bear with you to show him what you can do.”
Noelle just grinned. “By the time I get to his office, he’ll already know. I can guarantee he’ll check the internet first. But before I head over, I want to take a look at the carousel and get photos of the horses.”
Merry closed the door to the shop and pointed her sister in the right direction. Noelle marched off, camera in hand.
* * *
Jake spent a few minutes looking up Noelle Alcott on the internet, preparing for her visit. What he discovered surprised him. She was quite the celebrated glass artist, having done several large commissions in Las Vegas and San Francisco. His cell phone rang. He glanced at the display and considered not answering it. He really didn’t want to have a conversation with Annie Gray, but he had an obligation.
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