Chapter 5 Garrick
Garrick
‘You can never go wrong with canned cranberry,’ I say, feet propped on the table as I lean back in my chair in the kitchen under the Royal Fare restaurant.
Upstairs has a classic, vaguely Victorian Christmas aesthetic, with all the deep greens and reds accented with silver and gold – the perfect decorations to match the wood beams and cathedral ceilings of a restaurant built into a castle.
But in the belly of the beast, I made sure we put Whoville to shame.
I threw up every over-the-top Christmas decor item I found over the last few months at garage sales and thrift stores – I’m working on a budget.
The color scheme is rainbow: anything goes.
I’m meeting with Jin, the head of food and beverage, to review the menu for the charity Thanksgiving dinner we’re hosting at the end of the month. It might seem like we’re doing this just to score some good publicity – and yeah, sure, we are – but it’s also something Mom would’ve loved.
We used to volunteer at the local soup kitchen every holiday.
I actually got the idea to do it here from her.
I’d been organizing the kitchen office – Jin took over after Mom …
Anyhoo, no one had bothered to clean it.
So, I was doing it. Mostly because Ivor told me to, but it turned out OK because I found one of her old notebooks.
She loved to doodle and scribble notes, just like Aldrich does.
One of the notes, tucked into the back pages, was an idea to host a Thanksgiving at FTG for those who couldn’t afford their own.
My throat is thick at the memory of holding her words in my hands. I could hear her voice as I read each line. I shake my head to clear it so I can focus.
‘Plus –’ back to the cranberries – ‘it’s cheaper than making it. We can load up on the giant cans at Costco.’
Jin is old-school. He loves making everything from scratch.
But even as someone who hates math, I know we should probably keep to a budget.
Thanks to our Christmas season experiment, our staff is full, but I’m not taking any chances at overspending.
People here have families to provide for or college tuition to pay.
Fairytale Gardens means the world to me; it’s my whole life, and I know for a lot of folks who’ve worked here for years it is for them too.
I don’t want to play a part in stripping that away.
‘You’re going to put me out of a job one day, kid.’ He skims the to-do list.
I let that idea float around in my brain for a moment. I’d be a fantastic boss, but taking on that much responsibility makes my skin itch. ‘Nah. Too much work.’
OK, I’ll admit that, on occasion, I have thought about eventually taking the job. But then I’d be in charge of a whole set of people, and they’d look to me for answers. Which I think we can all agree would be a terrible idea.
‘Garrick!’ I hear Imogen before I see her.
The melodic trills of her voice echo into the kitchen.
Imogen may have only started last summer, but she’s been coming to FTG all her life.
I dare say she loves it almost as much as I do.
‘Oh hey, Tristian was looking for you.’ Imogen is wearing her princess costume, but her blonde wig is slung over her arm, allowing her short red hair to fly freely as she shakes the waves with her fingers.
I glance at my phone. I have a few texts from him and my other brothers. ‘Sorry,’ I say to Jin. ‘I’m a very in-demand guy. You’ll have to finish without me.’
Jin waves me off in response, and I follow Imogen upstairs to a waiting Yvette, who is typing away on her tablet, as per usual.
Yvette Ortiz is only older than us by a few years, but she packs all the punch of a linebacker.
I can see why Aunt Maria hired her to be in charge of keeping us characters in line.
‘You need to get to your meeting, and then you have a Santa meet-and-greet scheduled in an hour. So, let’s go. ’
I give her a salute. ‘Aye, aye, captain.’
We’re careful to avoid the eyes of the guests eating their delicious meal in the main dining room.
Peeking through the swinging door, I can just spy the bushy Christmas tree with its navy blue velvet ribbons and gold baubles.
What I like best about the decorations is that every land has its own theme – you can experience four different Christmases in one day.
‘I still can’t believe they’re letting you play Santa.
’ Imogen snaps a picture of the Christmas tree as we head outside.
It’s not snowing, but the air is icy, the sky a threatening gray.
The walk between the apartments and the main office is the least festive.
I wanted to install a Santa sleigh on the roof, but I was told we didn’t have the budget for decor outside the park.
‘More like I can’t believe it took this long for someone to think of a Christmas at FTG.’ I blow hot air into my hands to keep them moving. I didn’t grab my coat from the kitchen.
‘Thank you. It really was a brilliant idea on my part.’ Imogen beams. She is the sunshine to Tristian’s cloudy day.
Even when all seems hopeless, Imogen manages to find the best in every situation.
Which is helpful, since there are still those awkward moments with her and the fam when we all remember the drama she caused us.
I’m cool with her, but Ivor and Dad still need some ice chipped off their shoulders.
‘We have a meet-and-greet,’ Yvette says to Imogen.
They head toward Pixie Forest as I venture to Dad’s office.
I might bust Tristian’s balls about his lovesick ways, but I do really like Imogen.
She’s the lifeblood FTG needed to keep its heart pumping when it seemed like we might be dead on the table.
‘Is there something you’d like to tell me?
’ Dad asks when I step into his office. He sits at his throne – I mean desk.
The oversized portrait of us dressed like the Carpathia royal family hanging behind him only adds to his overbearing presence.
He’s working on it, but he still thinks he’s the king of the realm.
All my brothers are there in various states of prince dress.
Aldrich looks back and forth between me and Dad, twiddling his phone anxiously.
Ivor stands by Dad’s side, arms crossed.
I guess, being a dad himself, he’s used to the parental stare-down.
Tristian looks like he wants to laugh. So, now I’m really confused.
I rack my brain, thinking of anything I could’ve done that would get me in trouble right now.
‘Garrick?’ Dad prompts when I haven’t spoken, tapping his finger on the button of his gray suit jacket.
Scrolling down everything that might have gotten me in hot water takes a minute. Then it dawns on me. ‘Oh, yeah. The dating show?’ I hook my thumbs in my belt loops and lean against the sofa’s armrest.
I take it back: this office is the least festive of anywhere on the property. I make a mental note to grab a Grinch from my collection in the kitchen and put it in here.
‘Dating show?’ Aldrich asks, while Tristian says, ‘This should be good.’
‘Yeah, Ripley – she goes to our school – her mom owns Beeloved, and they’re launching a new teen dating app.
I’m upset no one told me they were filming their reality show here, but I forgive the slip.
’ I fill them in on my part in the endeavor.
‘And since the park was already the backdrop, it was a no-brainer that I step into the open lead role.’
Dad leans back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair.
The once light brown is tinged with gray.
He’s been better since the whole ‘being accused of embezzlement by my twin’ last summer.
We’ve started to talk again, really talk, but he’s still Dad.
It’s hard for him to loosen the reins on anything FTG-related – it’s practically his fifth child.
‘I know you agreed, because I received an email with a revised contract from Ms Ripley and her team this morning.’
Ms Ripley? Is that Ripley or her mom? I don’t get to ponder the thought long.
‘You can’t just agree to things like this without consulting me,’ Dad says, fingers pressed into a steeple grip under his chin. ‘We had plans in place for their filming requirements but having you as part of the show is a whole different story.’
‘One –’ I raise a finger – ‘I didn’t sign anything, so I can still back out. And two –’ I raise another finger – ‘adding me to the mix will be killer promo for the park. And god knows we could use it.’
We’re all trying not to look at Tristian, who squirms at my side. My heart aches for my twin, really. Getting used by the girl you’re falling for – freaking sucks, bro. But if he’d listened to me and not bothered with the love, he wouldn’t have hurt so bad.
Still, I suppose it’s working out for him.
‘This is the first season of the Christmas markets,’ Ivor chimes in, rubbing a hand over his massive beard. He’d put a lumberjack to shame. ‘We’re already under enough pressure to get this right. We need you fully committed to FTG.’
I crack my knuckles. ‘Most of it will happen during the week while the park is closed, so I’ll be free to do it.
It’s mostly gonna be on me.’ Just saying that makes my stomach flip.
But I ignore it and continue. ‘Dad, you’re always saying if we have ideas, that this is our park too.
So, this is mine.’ I leave off that it might also help launch my fencing camp, since I don’t want to fight a battle on multiple fronts.
Dad, for his part, looks a tiny bit proud of me.
It makes me stand a little taller. I’m not the kid who’s used to getting praised for my ideas.
I’m the one begging for forgiveness because I didn’t bother to ask permission.
‘I don’t know, Garrick. We’re already taking a risk allowing them here at all, but making you the face of it …
Is this the kind of thing we want to be doing for our brand? A reality show?’
‘It’s going to be fine. We’re all about love and happily-ever-afters. That’s what the show is gonna be. It’ll be classy, not tacky.’
I actually have no idea if that’s true. But from my brief encounter with Ripley, she seems like a classy gal. So, I’ll stick with that line and hope I’m right.
After a little more convincing, Dad agrees to it.
I’m glad because I’m not sure Ripley would take no for an answer.
The park is struggling, and I do hope that this helps.
Also, if I get to enjoy the company of some lovely ladies for a couple of weeks, well, that’s just a cross I’m willing to bear for the sake of Fairytale Gardens.
As I head to the break room to grab a snack before Santa’s meet-and-greet, I receive an email from Ripley – I have no idea how she got my email, but it doesn’t surprise me.
It’s a detailed itinerary – and when I say detailed, I mean planned down to the very last minute.
Over the next month, I have meetings twice a week.
They will cover everything from wardrobe to media prep.
Ripley will be my handler – which sounds more like a babysitter, but Ripley is an enigma that intrigues me, so a little more face time might help me figure her out.
The production crew will arrive at FTG on 8th December to start pre-production and the show begins a few days later. There’s also a questionnaire attached that I have to fill out so they can use the app’s algorithm to pick the contestants that will be the best love matches for me.
As I skim the questions, my heart rate ticks up and my palms are so sweaty my phone nearly slips out of my hand. The word love is in here a lot, and every time I read it my blood pressure rises. But it’s OK. It’s just part of the gimmick, right? I don’t really need to find love.