Chapter 5
I’ll admit it—I expected rust, regret, and maybe a raccoon with a switchblade. But as Edie and Eddie led us into Magical Marvels Hollow, even my deeply cynical, freshly divorced heart skipped a beat.
A magnificent blue castle rises against the afternoon sky, its walls composed of what appears to be glass or crystal that catches the sunlight and fractures it into thousands of rainbow prisms. The entire structure seems to pulse with an inner light, shimmering like a mirage on a hot summer day.
“It’s stunning,” I murmur, genuinely impressed despite my tendency toward cynicism about most things involving excessive sparkle.
“Pure dichroic glass in the outer walls,” Eddie explains proudly, like he’s personally responsible for defying several laws of physics. “Which means it changes color depending on the angle of the sun. It cost a fortune, but worth every penny.”
“It was built by my great-uncle,” Edie adds with the fond exasperation of a woman whose family tree includes geniuses with questionable budgeting skills. “He was creative.”
“That’s one word for it,” I murmur, still marveling at the rainbow sparkle-palooza.
The courtyard around the castle looks like a botanical experiment gone rogue.
Topiaries shaped like dragons, unicorns, and—is that a napping ogre?
—stand proudly between beds of wildflowers that clearly haven’t gotten the seasonal memo.
Mechanical fairies zip around with wings that glitter in the sun like little disco drones.
Then I see the crowd.
Not only is it the first one we’ve come across, but the entire courtyard is bustling with well-dressed visitors wearing conference badges, mingling among food vendors serving elaborate fall treats.
The air smells like someone bottled autumn and mixed it with expensive catering—caramel, cinnamon, chocolate, and fried dough blending into an olfactory explosion that makes my stomach remember it’s been neglected today—sans the gas station sushi.
That was outright abuse for both Chip and me.
“There’s a professional gathering taking place on the grounds today, the Hidden Gems Conference,” Eddie explains, gesturing to the lively get-together with a touch of pride as if he were hosting royalty.
“Travel writers from all over the country have congregated on our little wonderland. They’re here for their annual mixer.
There’s a reception you’ll be in charge of tomorrow if you accept the position. This is just the casual welcome.”
I blink. “I’ll be in charge of a reception tomorrow?”
“You sure will,” Edie says cheerfully. “But you’ll want to meet folks today. You’re basically management now.”
I am?
“Look at those caramel apples!” Georgie gasps, pointing at a vendor rolling apples in molten caramel, and—is that bacon? Edible gold leaf? Cookie crumbs? My stomach makes a noise that may be a declaration of war.
“Caramel apples dipped in gold?” Ree whistles. “Wow, that’s quite the markup opportunity.”
I wouldn’t mind trying the bacon-dipped apple, Chip announces from his tote. For scientific purposes.
“You just ate two snacks in the car,” I whisper.
That was the appetizer. This is field research.
The smell is making me dizzy. Fish wrinkles her nose from Georgie’s tote. Sugar upon sugar upon sugar.
I nod her way. It’s making me dizzy, too, but in the very best way.
“The indoor portion of Magical Marvels is through there,” Eddie points to an ornate door at the base of the castle shaped like a giant clown head with its mouth doubling as a door.
“It has a funhouse, a maze made of mirrors, and loads of animatronic displays—all the classic attractions. But this courtyard and the castle itself are what everyone comes to see.”
I study the crowd, noting the mix of excitement and critical assessment on the travel writers’ faces, the way they’re simultaneously enjoying themselves and mentally taking notes for reviews that could make or break a business.
These would be my first important clients if I take this job, and they look like the kind of people who notice when the details aren’t perfect.
“Mind if we mingle?” Georgie asks with a little too much hope while adjusting her carousel hat to a more alluring angle—if there is one. “That silver fox by the chocolate fountain looks like he appreciates experienced company.”
“We’re not exactly dressed for a conference,” I remind her, but Eddie waves away my concern.
My faded red long-sleeved T-shirt and janky jeans seemed appropriate attire for scoring a job at an amusement park but hardly cut the mustard when it comes to networking with travel industry professionals.
And I can’t help but notice they all look spit, polished, and shined to prom-level perfection.
“You’re with management,” Eddie is quick to say. “Feel free to introduce yourselves. In fact, it would be good for you to meet some of these folks before tomorrow, Josie. We’ll bring you right back after we finish the tour.”
I don’t like this place. Chip mewls. It smells like secrets and sugar-fueled betrayal.
“Two more Hollows to go,” Eddie says cheerfully, clearly unaware that my cat has just delivered what sounds suspiciously like an ominous warning.
Everwhirl Hollow is atmospheric with its abandoned gazebos and overgrown vines. The romantic, possibly haunted vibe of a fairy tale that took a dark turn. I kinda love it.
“This used to be a formal garden,” Edie explains, nostalgia softening her voice as she remembers better far more manicured times. “We’ve let nature take its course. Some visitors think it’s more magical this way.”
“They’re right,” I murmur, captivated by the juxtaposition of man-made structures being embraced by untamed greenery. It’s perfectly hauntingly weird.
Our final stop is Gears & Dreams Hollow, a steampunk wonderland of copper pipes, vintage machinery, and exhibits that seem to be perpetually on the verge of working.
Steam occasionally puffs from valves, and gears the size of car tires turn slowly, powering.
..well, nothing in particular. Honestly? It’s a vibe.
“This is my personal favorite,” Eddie confesses like someone remembering a dream—one that quickly morphed into a nightmare. “But I’ve got to say, it’s never quite lived up to what we envisioned.”
“Neither did my marriage,” I say with a sigh.
Unless they envisioned a jungle-like hellscape, then it’s pretty much spot-on. Some of these prehistoric-looking plants look as if they can eat a small child—and certainly a cat or two. And I clutch at my tote a little tighter because of it.
By the time we make it back to the main office, my brain is a carousel of chaos filled with ideas, doubts, and one very loud voice screaming WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!
Ree and Georgie make themselves comfortable on a bench outside, while Fish’s tote bag is set between them like a buffer. And while Ree stares off at the bakery down Huckleberry Lane, Georgie wastes no time flirting with a maintenance worker who’s adjusting a nearby lamppost.
“So?” Eddie says, settling behind his desk with satisfaction as if he’s just given the grand tour and holds all the rusty chips in his hand. “What do you think?”
I take a breath. “I think it’s magical. And messy. And full of potential. And possibly lawsuits.”
“That’s a kind way of putting it.” Edie laughs with the self-awareness of a shyster who knows exactly what she’s selling.
“The park has incredible potential,” I continue. “The themes are charming, the layout makes sense, and there’s a genuine warmth to the place that you can’t manufacture. But—”
“But it needs work,” Eddie finishes. “We know. We’re just not the ones to do it anymore.”
“Our hearts are still here,” Edie says, patting her chest with genuine emotion. “But our knees? Our backs? They’ve been sending strongly worded letters of resignation for years.”
“Florida is calling,” Eddie adds with the wistful tone of a man ready for a different kind of adventure. “We might be looking into a nice condo where the only thing I’ll have to fix is the TV remote when Edie hides it.”
“I do not hide it,” she huffs with the indignation of being falsely accused of remote-related crimes. “It migrates.”
I can’t help but smile at their banter, the easy affection that comes from decades of shared adventures and probably more than a few shared disasters. Like the theme park we’re standing in.
“So, you’re looking for someone to manage while you’re away?”
They exchange a look loaded with unspoken communication—the kind that comes after decades together and doesn’t require a bonk on the head to achieve.
“Actually,” Eddie leans forward with an expression on his face that suggests he’s about to change my life, “we’re looking for someone to take over completely.”
“We’d still own the park,” Edie clarifies. “But you’d have full operational control, creative direction, staffing decisions—everything.”
“Really? But you barely know me.” I blink, wondering if I’ve somehow stumbled into an alternate universe where people hand over theme parks to strangers.
“We know enough,” Eddie says simply. “We’ve been running this place for forty years. We’ve been reading people longer than you’ve been alive. We know people.”
Their math is off by about ten years, but then looking around at this place, I’m fairly certain math isn’t their strong suit, and neither are safety regulations or routine maintenance.
“Plus,” Edie adds with a mischievous smile, “our good friend Bizzy Baker Wilder called us this afternoon just before you got here and gave you a glowing recommendation.”
“Of course, she did,” I mutter. I don’t know whether to thank her or threaten her.
“The salary is fair.” Eddie slides a paper across the desk, and the number makes my eyebrows attempt to escape my forehead entirely. “And there’s a bonus structure tied to attendance and revenue growth,” Edie adds, like she’s sweetening a deal that’s already sweet enough to cause diabetes.
“We need someone who sees what this place could be, not just what it is,” Edie says, her expression suddenly serious. “Someone who’ll love it like we do.”
I glance down at Chip, who looks up at me with an unexpected earnestness.
This place needs you. And maybe you need it, too. And according to the mice problem I’ve seen, it definitely needs me.
“That’s it. I accept.” I hear myself say, the words coming out before my brain has fully processed the implications of managing an entire theme park when my previous experience tops out at organizing school fundraisers—and a couple of stellar bake sales.
I really can make a mean chocolate chip cookie. The secret ingredient? Maple syrup.
The Merryweathers light up like a couple of Christmas trees.
“Wonderful!” Eddie shouts with glee. “When can you start?”
“How about right now?” Edie doesn’t wait for my answer.
“That group of travel writers you’ll be hosting tomorrow—the ones here for their annual Hidden Gems Conference—well, they’re quite influential.
I think the welcome reception in Magical Marvels Hollow will be the perfect introduction for you as the new manager. ”
“Hosting a major event on my first day?” I repeat, the reality of what I’ve just agreed to is hitting me like a theme park ride that’s definitely not up to safety code. “That’s not terrifying at all.”
“Don’t worry.” Eddie pats my hand with the confidence of a man who has clearly never hosted a major event on their first day. “We’ll be there to support you. And after that, it’s all yours.”
I leave the office in a daze, clutching a folder full of contracts, event details, and a set of park master keys that weighs more than Chip.
Ree and Georgie descend upon me immediately.
“Well?” Georgie demands, her carousel hat spinning with anticipation. “Are you our new carnival queen?”
“I got the job,” I confirm. “And apparently, I’m starting immediately.”
“Congratulations!” Ree squeezes my arm with genuine pride—and the ability to leave a purple mark that will last for weeks. I had a sneaking suspicion she’s been hitting the gym. “From financial advisor’s wife to theme park manager. That’s quite the career pivot.”
“And it wasn’t exactly planned,” I admit, thinking about how twenty-four hours ago my biggest concern was catching my husband with his yoga instructor.
“The best adventures never are,” Georgie says with surprising wisdom. “Speaking of adventures, it turns out there are many eligible bachelors among the park staff! I spotted a distinguished gentleman with very promising forearms by the popcorn stand who looks like he could use a little company.”
“Speaking of company,” I say, adjusting my tote as Chip shifts position, “are you ladies up for joining me at the welcome reception happening right now in Magical Marvels Hollow? Consider it moral support for my first official appearance as manager. And by the looks of it, the place is teeming with distinguished gentlemen.”
“With all those travel writers?” Ree nods approvingly. “Business professionals with expense accounts?” She shoots a wry look at her bestie. “I don’t see a single thing that can go wrong.”
“Lucky for everyone, I’m always prepared,” Georgie announces, reaching into her oversized purse and pulling out what appears to be a collapsible hat with a miniature light-up Ferris wheel that sits on top of it.
She swaps it for her carousel hat like a pro.
“I never leave home without a backup statement piece. If I’m lucky, I’ll dig up my good hat for tomorrow. ”
I don’t dare imagine what her good hat might entail. But my guess is pyrotechnics are somehow involved.
“Dibs on the caramel apple guy!” Georgie shouts as she charges on ahead. “And let’s hit a roller coaster or two on our way over!”
Did they say reception? As in food? Chip perks up and his whiskers twitch with anticipation. I expect funnel cakes will be present. For quality control purposes, I’ll need to sample at least four.
Your dedication to gluttony is truly impressive, Fish mewls his way. I’ll be monitoring for health code violations. The cinnamon apple vendor’s hands looked suspiciously unwashed.
She’s not wrong. I thought the same thing.
We head back toward Magical Marvels as the afternoon sun glows over Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland.
For the first time in weeks, I feel a flicker of excitement in my chest.
A new job. A fresh start. A chance to create something magical from something forgotten. It sounds a lot like me.
Who knew my husband’s malfunctioning libido would lead me here—to a magical castle full of possibility, two opinionated cats, and a future where nothing, not even my ex-husband’s betrayal, could stop what might be coming next.
My life may have exploded like a popcorn stand left unattended, but you know what? This might be the best disaster yet.
And if it’s not? Well... it just might be murder.