“Thanks, babe,” he said, crinkling open his newspaper and taking a sip. Adelie chuckled. Anyone who didn’t know any better would think he lived here with them, he was over so often.
Suzie went on. “Not only that, but you know what I think? I think you need this.”
“Yeah, like I need a bullet to the head.”
Suzie leaned in, resting her elbows on the table, a feat which would have gotten her dismissed if it’d happened during dinner while they’d been growing up. “I’m serious. This is completely out of your comfort zone, but you’re doing it, Addy. That takes gusto.”
“Gusto?”
“Exactly. You know what Grandma always said. ‘It’s character-building to do one thing you don’t like every day.’ Look at all the character you’ll be building.”
“You’re right,” Adelie said with pluck, cottoning on to her sister’s enthusiastic sarcasm. Oddly enough, her little pep talk was working. Her shoulders relaxed. She stopped fiddling with the end of her sleeves. “This is going to be good for me.”
“What is?” Fletcher pried himself from his paper long enough to ask.
Suzie waved him off, keeping her attention on Adelie and promising to explain later.
How could this be good for her, though? Part of her still felt the way she had when she’d gone with some friends to a spook alley in high school. The pressure had been high. Everyone had laughed, prodding her, poking fun, taunting her to go. She’d been downright terrified, but she’d given in to the peer pressure. She’d gone through every frightening, too-dark inch of that freak show. When she’d arrived on the other side, she could have kissed every speck of light around.
Her friends had been wrong. Adelie hadn’t gotten tougher. In fact, she’d sworn off creepy anything and had stuck to it.
Something told her this situation was going to be similar. Granted, she couldn’t pass this chance up and risk finding someone else’s face in Wonderland as a reminder of her lack of courage.
She had to do this. But that didn’t mean anything about her was going to change.
***
Adelie stood at Wonderland’s gates Sunday morning. The wrought iron curled in a quirky, mysterious way, implying darkness and mystery and yet playfulness within. Circles in the center of either side of the gate swirled with fancy Ws that connected to leaves and adjoining top hats.
A man in a plain uniform held a broom in one hand and a long-handled dustpan in the other. He shuffled his way over the pave stones that made up the front of the park, sweeping litter and other garbage that had drifted into Wonderland.
Rides that had taxied and spun within were now sleeping. The park wasn’t open on Sundays, which was perfect for her. She wouldn’t have to deal with Mr. Hatter pressuring her to ride anything. Just a tour, that was all this was.
She would see the park. Get a better grasp of his intentions for its remodel. And then she would make her decision.
Adelie clutched her messenger bag—and the contract within it—and began to pace. He’d just said Sunday. No specific time. She probably should have clarified before leaving, but she had felt too self-conscious to contact him. She’d stewed over it the entire time during church, and now that she was here, she wondered if she should have called him sooner than a quick message of, Hey, I'm heading over in a few minutes.
How did she even know he got it? He hadn’t responded.
Adelie could see several others working their way through the park’s innards, stopping to wipe windows on the buildings, or to adjust the straps on tarps covering kiosks or change out garbage bags. She was starting to think she shouldn’t have come at all when a smaller, regular-sized gate swung open twenty feet down the brick wall to her right.
Mr. Hatter stepped through, wearing jeans and a button-up shirt beneath a black leather jacket. His hair was tousled, his lips quirked, and with his left hand skimming his jeans pocket, he looked like the one who should be posing for pictures.
“Hey, there,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”
She stepped toward him, her boots crunching on the sidewalk. “Hi, Mr. Hatter. Did you get my text?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” he said. “Sorry about that. And please, call me Maddox.”
She managed an agreeable nod.
“So, Adelie, are you ready?” he asked.
“R-ready?” She hated that she stammered whenever she was nervous or caught off-guard. It had always been an oddity of hers. Something she’d battled from the time she was young, even when she and Suzie had still lived with their parents.
“Yeah, the tour. Want to start at the beginning? Make our way through the park? I’ll give you the inside scoop.”
“That sounds good,” she said. “Why don’t you show me where the changes are going to be? You know, where you’re going to put me. My pictures. I mean, where you’re putting me. The pictures of me.” Ugh. Could she get any more awkward?
Mr. Hatter’s smile stretched only by a fraction, but enough to be noticeable.
“The beginning sounds great,” she amended.
“The Rabbit Hole it is.” Hands in his pockets, he invited her in and locked the door behind her.
It was hard to believe the park had been as crowded as it was the day of the scavenger hunt. Silence enveloped everything eerily now, in that way things that should have life and motion, but didn’t. Adelie longed to break that silence. She asked the first question that came to her mind.
“Your name. Is it really your name? Hatter is legitimate?”
“It is,” he said. “My mom named me Maddox because Alice's Adventures in Wonderland was her favorite book. In fact, this—” He gestured. “Is all for her.”
Adelie stopped for a moment to admire the flowerbeds, trees, and towering rides. The smells of popcorn and caramel were missing today. She was surprised she’d noticed, considering how distracted she’d been the last time she was here. She hadn’t taken much time to really see everything Friday, either.
“Really? That’s such an amazing thing to do for your mom. Does she love to come here?”
Maddox lowered his head. “She passed away, I’m afraid. It’s one reason I did it, as a tribute to her memory.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. That’s so hard. Both of my parents are gone too,” Adelie said, falling into step with him once more. Why had she brought that up? She didn’t want to go into her family’s difficult past—not now, not ever. And especially not with him. In fact, part of her wanted to forget she’d had parents at all.
Maddox led the way up the stairs toward the entry point for The Rabbit Hole drop. No lines. Just directly to the front. She remembered some of her frustration with the lines, regretting how surly and distracted she’d been. Part of her wished for a do-over. How would it be to jump on any ride you want whenever you wanted?
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“Yeah, I was raised by my grandparents. That’s one reason I’m doing this. I want to save their house.”
He whistled. “Must be some house.”
“It is,” she said, unable to help her smile. “It’s got this perfect craftsman look to it, and I have so many memories there.”