Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
T he drive is horrific, and I question my sanity the entire way there. What if she rejects me? What if she’s met someone else, maybe a single dad of one of the kid campers? Cricket would make a great stepmom. Any child would be lucky to have her in their life.
My resolve strengthens. The odds of a blossoming romance are low given her reluctance to get involved in a relationship, and the pain I caused likely pushed her right back into her tortoiseshell glasses.
I hurt her. I betrayed her trust, even knowing what her history was, and I couldn’t forgive myself for it.
Cricket didn’t deserve that. She deserved a hero, someone who would rise to the occasion. I give a cursory glance to the briefcase I grabbed from my house, now flat on the passenger seat beside me.
I hope this offering is enough.
In the parking lot, I spot Rhonda and maneuver next to the vehicle.
By the time I exit the car, the light rain has decreased to a sprinkle.
Maybe the storm will bypass the area and spare the camp.
I offer a silent prayer to Thor, Mother Nature, and the Force as I cross the familiar terrain in search of Cricket.
The campground is eerily quiet, and I wonder whether it’s movie time. That would explain the silence.
I arrive at her office and knock on the door. Terrific. No answer. “Cricket?”
“She’s at her house,” a deep, breathy voice says, “although I can’t promise she’ll be pleased to see you.”
“Hey, Adam. Good to see you again.”
“It’s Original Shadow Daddy to you,” the kid beside him says. He’s on the small side, wearing thick glasses and a Pikachu T-shirt.
“Right. Hey … Shadow Man. Where’s Chewy?”
“Back in the cabin. He’s fine. You know how that diva feels about rain.”
“Why is Cricket at her house?”
“We can’t find the boxes of mini popsicle sticks to make the Pokémon puppets,” the kid informs me. “She thinks they’re somewhere in her pantry. I offered to help, but she said no.”
A cursory glance at the kid’s glue-covered fingertips tells me why. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Are you a new counselor?” he asks.
“No,” Adam interrupts. “He’s just passing through.”
The kid looks up at Adam. “Why don’t you like him?”
“Because he’s a brooding villain,” I reply, giving Adam an easy out. “He doesn’t like anybody.”
“That’s not true,” the kid objects. “He’s my best friend at camp. We’re going on a hike later to look for Ewoks.”
“Sounds fun.” I clap Adam’s shoulder. “Good luck.”
“For what it’s worth, I was rooting for you two,” Adam says in a low voice.
Me too , I think. “I appreciate that.”
“The path to the house picks up after the cafeteria. It’ll take you right to the front door.”
“Thanks.”
I continue past the cabins and the cafeteria until I locate the stone path.
The house is exactly as I imagined it, right down to the white picket fence.
It’s warm and welcoming, and I immediately want to kick off my shoes and enjoy a tall glass of lemonade on the porch.
Given our current status, I’d be lucky if she doesn’t toss the lemonade in my face.
I leap over the single porch step, releasing some of my nervous energy, and arrive at the front door.
The mat beneath my feet features Darth Vader’s head with ‘Welcome to the Dark Side’ written beside it.
I can’t help but smile. This house may have been in her family for generations, but Cricket’s fingerprints are all over it.
I ring the bell and wait, using the opportunity to wipe the sweat from my palms onto my jeans. As much as I want to share bodily fluids with her, this isn’t how I want to start.
The door flies open and Cricket stares back at me. Her hair is in a messy bun, accentuating her elf ears, and she’s wearing her Nerdy By Nature T-shirt. Affection floods my system at the sight of it; I’m moved by how much I love the existence of that ridiculous top.
“Mr. Thorpe. I didn’t expect to see you again.” Her gaze lowers to my attire. “You’re wearing jeans. I thought you suffered from a denim allergy.”
“Only Monday through Friday.”
The corner of her mouth quirks when her gaze reaches my shoes. “Couldn’t bring yourself to swap those Gucci loafers for Converse though, huh?”
I wiggle my toes inside the shoes. “I’m comfortable in these.”
“And we know how important your comfort is to you.”
I let the jab pass uncontested. “May I come in? There’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
She peers past me. “I don’t see any law enforcement. Does that mean you aren’t here to seize my land?”
“I am most definitely not here to do that.”
She studies me, uncertain. “How do I know that’s not a lie so I’ll invite you in?”
“I’m not a vampire.”
“You may not suck blood, but you do suck.”
I fight a sigh of disappointment. I deserve whatever insults she chooses to hurl at me. “I do suck, and I’m here to make it up to you.”
Her fingers drum the edge of the door. “Someone’s optimistic.”
“Hear me out, please. If you don’t like what I have to say, feel free to boot me from your house.”
“Wearing an actual boot?”
“If you feel so inclined. My ass can take it.” Not so sure about my heart though.
To my great relief, she takes a reluctant step back and ushers me inside. “You have five minutes to plead your case, counselor.”
“Not a litigator,” I remind her, and then immediately shut the hell up before she changes her mind and slams the door in my face. This is my one shot to make things right and I refuse to blow it.
“Step into my office, please.”
I follow her through a living room that manages to be both spacious and cozy, to a smaller room with no door.
The walls are plastered in framed movie posters, including Return of the Jedi and Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers .
A row of bobbleheads line the edge of a desk.
I feel a strange sense of pride when I realize that I recognize most of them.
I’ve come a long way since I first met Cricket.
I point to the Jedi poster. “Did you know the movie was originally called Revenge of the Jedi ? Lucas changed it late in the game.”
“And later used ‘Revenge’ in Revenge of the Sith . I’m aware.
” Unimpressed, she sits behind a desk in a tall wooden chair that resembles a rustic throne.
The design is vaguely familiar, and it takes me a second to realize it was inspired by The Hobbit .
She motions for me to sit, but the only arguable piece of furniture I see is a Baby Yoda beanbag chair.
It’s impossible to appear calm and cool as my butt lands in the soft material and sinks. Cricket bites back a smile.
“What brings you to darken my doorstep now that the twenty-one days left on the lien have come and gone?”
“I’d like to offer you an official update.”
Her shoulders tense, but she forces an interested smile. “I’m all ears.” She flicks the pointy end of one.
The beanbag chair starts to lean to the right, and I shift left to counteract the move. “It took a bit of brainstorming, but I came up with an idea that would satisfy LandStar without hurting you or the camp.”
Her jaw sets. “You’re a lawyer, not a magician, Mr. Thorpe.”
“Please don’t call me Mr. Thorpe or I’ll think my father is in the room with us.”
“Your father is always in the room with you, whether he’s physically present or not.”
I can see I have my work cut out for me, but I anticipated this.
I don’t blame her for any hostility. I showed up at her camp under false pretenses and took time to come clean.
I hid an important document that I found in her office and my decision nearly lost her the camp.
I’d have to earn back her trust, which I am more than willing to do.
Whatever it takes. I hope my next statement helps to bridge that gap.
“LandStar has been set on your land because it seemed like the right spot to implement his vision.”
“And?”
I feel my excitement rise, as high as when I first developed the plan. “So I found another plot of land that’s more in alignment with that vision.”
“Then you got your big promotion. Congrats.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I know how important that was to you.”
“Not nearly as important as you.”
“Be real, Charlie.”
“I didn’t finish.” I topple to the side and abandon Baby Yoda. Popping to my feet, I tell her the news. “I didn’t get the promotion. Matt did.”
“Why would they make that slimeball partner instead of you?”
“Because I gave that slimeball the information I found on the new plot of land and let him take all the credit.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“So he could look like a solution-focused hero. It was part of the deal I made with him. He agreed to let me sit on the lien and let the statute of limitations pass in exchange for an uncontested partnership. His deal fell through, so I gave him mine.” I clear my throat, wary of uttering my next sentence. “And then I quit the firm.”
Her head snaps up. “Excuse me?”
“I left the firm.”
Her eyes search mine. “But partnership was your dream.”
“No. As you rightly pointed out, it was my parents’ dream. I had no idea what I wanted. I was only following the path they laid out for me, trying to earn their approval.” I force down the lump in my throat. “Until I met you.”
She leans back. “You can’t give up your career because of me.”
“I haven’t given up my career. I’m still a lawyer. As a matter of fact, I took a couple of clients with me, much to Joel’s dismay, and I’d love to take you on as well.”
Cricket releases that gangster’s moll laugh that I’ve craved to hear again. “Charlie, this camp is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy as it is. You’d be hitching your wagon to a falling star.”
“What if I help you turn it around?” And then I see it, that flare of hope. I plunge ahead. “What if I was the camp’s business manager? We could work as a team. It wouldn’t be a stretch. We already know we work well together.”
“Your office is hours away in Philly.”
“My office can be wherever I want it to be.”