Chapter 24
“A bus crash? What are you saying?”
“This is Rene Reynolds, Impact News, Phoenix. We want to know about the tour bus crash there on Wednesday.”
Shit. Kate clenched her teeth as she gripped the phone. “Bus crash?”
“One of those open buses of yours with an awning on top?”
Kate faltered for a second.
“Well, was there a bus crash or not?”
“Yes, there was. No guests were involved. It happened in a service area.”
“The pictures we have look pretty bad. Front of the bus is smashed into a wall.”
“Pictures? Where did you--”
“I can’t divulge our sources, Ms. Sorensen. Was anyone hurt?”
“You doing a story?”
“Yeah.”
“Two of our employees were injured. I’ll check out the details and get back to you with a comment. When’s your deadline?”
Kate hung up and glanced at her watch. Just past 9 a.m., the end of her second week at Nostalgia City. She and her staff, worn out from responding to the media, now faced additional grief. Two employees were hurt in the bus crash, something she couldn’t deny, as much as she wished it hadn’t happened. Impact News would make this the top story that night. And how did they get pictures? She scribbled notes to herself. At least she could say the employees were out of the hospital and suffered no permanent injuries. She had tried to tell the media that little mishaps were not unusual at large theme parks--or small towns for that matter. But now any little accident at Nostalgia City made news.
Max wanted magic, wanted the bad news to evaporate. Kate hadn’t heard from Lyle since he’d called her Wednesday about the bus crash. That probably meant he was no closer to solving the mystery. How could she continue to explain that the park was safe and make excuses for new accidents? She kept asking herself why someone was trying to destroy Nostalgia City.
Joann came in and handed her new phone messages.
“Don’t tell me, Joann. More reporters.”
“Just one call from the media,” Joann said, “plus others.”
Kate took the slips from her secretary. The first one said, Nick Lassiter, president of United Veterans of the Vietnam Conflict, wants to see you soon. Joann had underlined soon.
“Now what?” Kate asked.
“This group has called us before,” Joann said. “Your predecessor met with someone once. They wanted to put up a memorial on the grounds.”
“What happened?”
“I think Bob brought it up to Mr. Maxwell. Don’t know what happened after that.”
“I can guess. I’ll give this guy a call. Maybe we can interest him in dedicating a crash dummy as a memorial.”
Joann wrinkled her nose and gave Kate an I-hope-you’re-just-kidding look.
“I know,” Kate agreed. “It’s bad. Nine o’clock and I’m already tired. After I give Impact News a comment, see if you can distribute the media calls to the rest of the staff for a while. I’ve got a meeting.” Before she got up, she glanced at her other messages. Bruce had called.
“You’re on the phone all the time now,” Bruce said when he recognized Kate’s voice. “I miss you.”
“Me too. I wish you could postpone your meeting this weekend. After all, you’re going to be quitting pretty soon.”
“They don’t know that yet, so I couldn’t say no. You could have come here.”
“Be serious. You know what’s going on here. We’ve been over that,” Kate said taking a breath. “What have you been doing? I called last night.”
“I know. I went out with Dave and forgot to take my phone with me. That’s why I called you back at work.”
“Did you find a real estate agent to list the condo yet?”
“No, but I’ve got a list. I’ll settle on someone tomorrow.”
Kate wished she and Bruce were settled somewhere nearby, but that would happen when it happened--if she still had a place to work. In a way, she was glad Bruce was not around because she could devote all her time to the continuing disaster.
***
“It looks bad,” Kate said, “but we can’t just sit by, stay in one place.”
“I know,” Drenda agreed. “I’m trying not to let it get to me.”
They sat in a small plaza near the edge of Centerville where outdoor tables clustered around a snack bar. An open-air gift shop sold newspapers, magazines, and souvenirs. Few tourists were out. The faint smell of eggs frying mixed with the odor of damp pavement drying in the late spring sun.
“At least we’re off the front page.”
“Temporarily.”
“Anything new?”
Kate shrugged. She didn’t even want to think about bus crash photos on the evening news.
“It’s horrible,” Drenda said.
“It is, but right now, the cops and security have to deal with it. We have to do what we can to improve the image around here, no matter what happens.” Kate tried to smile. “And you have the ideas we need.”
Drenda nodded and unrolled the architectural drawings on the table between them. “This plaza is the best spot. The timeline exhibit can go along here. And we haven’t stocked those two shops in the back.” She pointed to the rear of the square. “We could change our merchandising and have something finished in five or six weeks.”
“Wouldn’t it take longer than that to remodel the whole square?”
“We wouldn’t need to. I’ve learned a myriad of tricks working with the designers and our construction crews. It wouldn’t be difficult to change the ambiance and the visual effect. Here’s the look we originally had in mind.” She pointed to a rendering.
“This looks great.”
“It’s completely period-authentic.”
“I think the time has come for an update on realism. Don’t you?”
Drenda smiled. “It may take a while. Normally something like this has to be reviewed by the senior management committee and integrated into the budget. Then marketing will want to do focus groups. Finally it would be submitted for approval to you-know-who.”
“Drenda, this has just been approved by Nostalgia City’s two-woman executive committee. And I’ll take it to the president and he’ll approve it, too.”
“You sound as stubborn as Uncle Max.”
“Where do you think I learned it?”