“Six months?” Jenny croaks. Her cheeks lose all their coloring.
“I assume that won’t be a problem.”
She shakes her head, but the hand clutching onto her pen trembles.
“I’m looking to package this whole idea as a fiftieth-anniversary celebration and generate a buzz that pulls at people’s heartstrings. The project should appeal to the new and old generations who grew up with Dreamland characters. I want it to emulate everything my grandfather loved about this park while also moving us toward a brighter—and more modern—future.”
Sam and Jenny are nothing but two bobbing heads, hanging on to every word as they scribble in their notepads.
“So whatever needs to be done, do it. Time is not our friend.”
“What is our budget?” Sam’s eyes shine.
“Keep it reasonable—so around ten billion for the entire park. If you need more, my accountants will review the numbers.”
Sam nearly chokes on his tongue.
“I expect results. If not, then you’re better off applying for the traveling carnival.”
Jenny stares at me while Sam’s eyes drop to the carpet.
“Sir, may I speak freely?” Jenny taps her pen against her notepad in the most irritating fashion.
I check my watch. “If you find it absolutely necessary.”
“Based on your rapid timeline, I was wondering if we could open up the annual employee submissions early this year? That way, the Creators could work with fresh ideas rather than starting from ground zero.”
I blink at her. Annual submissions are nothing but a headache meant to boost employee morale. We have plenty of Creators who have worked at Dreamland for decades already. They don’t need the useless input from low-paid employees who don’t know the first thing about how to design a park.
But what if someone submits something the current Creators haven’t considered?
I work through the pros and cons before determining that I don’t have much to lose. “Open up the applications for two weeks only. I want you to personally review the submissions and deliver only the best ones to my desk.”
Jenny nods. “Of course. I’m sure we have a good idea about what you’re looking for.”
Doubtful but I don’t bother wasting any words correcting her. “Get to work.”
Jenny and Sam exit in a rush, leaving me behind to answer emails and prepare for the next meeting of my day.
“Son.”
I instantly regret answering my father’s unusual personal call. Stupid curiosity got the better of me because he’s been too quiet about the whole Dreamland business. Something about his silence makes me wonder what he’s planning behind the scenes.
I settle into a leather couch across from my desk. “Father.” Our titles are nothing but a front developed over the years for public appearances.
“How’s everything in Dreamland? I assume you’ll be attending our board meeting on Monday regardless of whatever plans you’ve got going on.” His tone remains light and indicative of the calm facade he’s perfected across decades.
My molars grind together. “Why do you care?”
“Because I’m intrigued by your sudden interest in becoming the Director after your grandfather’s passing.”
Does he think so little of my intelligence?
Of course he does. He’s done nothing but mock you for the entirety of your existence.
“Is there a purpose to this phone call?” I ask with a faux indifference.