29. Autumn
twenty-nine
Autumn
First, it was a kitchen fire at six in the morning.
It was small, but it left our culinary student, Sebastian, freaked out.
He’d only been in a commercial kitchen for the summer, and his mistake had him reeling and thinking he could never be a chef, which I persuaded him was not true, and distressed that he might be fired (also not true).
He was also troubled about the kitchen itself and the oven that was badly damaged and needed to be sorted through insurance.
That left us an oven down for family breakfast, but it wasn’t the end of the world, just a lot of worrying by a twenty-one-year-old over quiche.
The fire fiasco was followed by a rogue opossum blocking access to the west bathrooms. No joke, he literally ran back and forth, hissing at anyone who tried to enter.
And how did I solve this problem? Bacon.
I could honestly say I solved a problem with bacon, and if that didn’t belong on my resume, I didn’t know what did.
I’d just told Hazel I’d been putting out fires all morning when, ironically enough, a pipe had burst in the east showers. I met Jack to see what a “small leak” meant and learned that “small” actually meant “big,” and “leak” was more relative to “flood.”
I looked at three campers standing helplessly with toiletry bags. “Y’all can use the west showers for now,” I spat out, exasperated.
A towel-clad Jack cursed with a clothed Cherry Lips Cheryl as they tried to quickly tighten a bolt with a wrench. I was busy wondering where he had pulled out the wrench when I snapped into action.
“So all those times I asked if there was a wrench in your pants or if you were just happy to see me, there was a literal wrench?”
“Shut up, smart-ass. The shut-off valve is out back.” Suddenly, three other showers were spraying water outward and up to the ceiling.
“I’m gonna—” I rushed outside to shut off the water supply. I came back to find water sputtering until it stopped spraying and dripped off. I held back laughter, taking the wrench from a soaked Cheryl and turning back to him. “Were you taking a shower when it—”
“Yep,” he said bitingly. Jack may have been our handyman, but he was bad at taking care of his own problems, so he was likely showering in the guest showers because he still hadn’t fixed the pipe to his bathroom. Now he was probably regretting that fact.
He went to turn the water supply back on once it looked like things were under control, and despite not being knowledgeable about plumbing, I chose to look up into the shower head right as water splattered out, spraying me in the face.
Jack came back to the mess and cracked up at the image of his best friend taking on the appearance of a wet dog.
“Your towel is slipping.”
He grabbed it quickly and glared when he realized I was just fucking with him.
Felicia walked in and whistled until she saw our soaked faces. “Why aren’t you using your shower?”
“Plumbing issue,” he said wryly. What a joke.
I pushed a lock of dripping hair. “Cancel that shower, Jack. This place is underwater as it is.”
It wouldn’t be the last day if it wasn’t a shit show.
On the last day of each session, we made enough food for families to join in for breakfast, which meant that many arrived early.
After greeting newcomers and helping people load cars, I caught my breath next to the welcome sign.
It only took a moment for me to realize I hadn’t heard from my bosses in a while, which could either be good or bad.
“This is Autumn for Leo.”
“Leo speaking.”
“Did you need anything—Mom?”
I recognized that bob anywhere. My stepmom had passed me by, turning as she heard me. She held hands with my dad.
“I’m not your mom, Autumn,” Leo returned. “In a better world—”
I lowered the sound on my walkie and turned to the woman pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. Her face brightened when she saw me. She looked pristine in her signature floral scarf and her favorite silk top and Bermuda shorts combo.
“What are you doing here?” I said, exasperated, all tact gone.
“We waited fifteen minutes to park, Autumn,” my dad griped, his face a twinge redder than I was used to.
Great. This busyness was normal on the last day, but this was not the first impression of Starlight I wanted for my parents after they finally visited.
Arriving during a clusterfuck, just the thing to make this place look reputable. Why were they here?
“I know, Dad.”
“What kind of place are you running here?”
My stepmom tried to appease him. “Take a breath, Robert. I’m sure there’s an explanation…”
Fantastic. I felt like I was sixteen years old again, explaining how the pot ended up in my possession.
To this day, I didn’t know which person put that dime bag in my ceiling vent.
Okay, I did. It was me. Past Autumn had been too stoned or stupid the one time she’d tried weed to realize that marijuana had a very distinct smell and ceiling vents blew out air.
I scratched my head and took a deep breath. “We’re just busy, Dad. That has nothing to do with the running of—never mind.” I hugged each of them and tried again. I stifled my anger, knowing that if I had shown up to my stepmom’s job unannounced, she would have killed me. “Are you here to visit?”
My dad folded his arms across his chest and scanned the area. “Well, you’ve been talking about this place for years, so we figured we’d come see what all the fuss was about.”
Great timing.
I forced a smile. “That’s so… Nice of you, but this isn’t the best time, and I—”
“Is that Jamie Davis?” My stepmom cupped her hand over her brow to shield her eyes.
My god, what were the chances of this?
Crispin rushed up to me. He looked frantic.
I jumped into damage control mode. “What’s wrong?”
“My son is missing.”
“ What? ”
“He’s six…” The hopelessness in his eyes nearly had me breaking “His name is Josh.”
I nodded quickly. Suddenly, I forgot about my parents, about my ex-boyfriend, about everyone who wasn’t a small child. I got some details out of Crispin and turned my walkie back on.
“Attention: this is an all-hands message. Drop what you’re doing. We have a six-year-old missing. Last seen near the parking lot. His name is Josh.” I thought to the worst possible place he could be. “Sawyer, are you still near the beach?”
“Been here for ten minutes. No sign of him, but I’ll stay to make sure.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness.
“This is Leo—near the ax range.”
“Oh my god, are there axes—” My dad’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head.
I didn’t explain, just shook my head no.
“Hazel, are you still at Cygnus pod?”
“Yes. I’m looking here now.”
“Jack, I need you at the loading bay. Felicia, Lamar, spread out.”
I turned to Crispin. “We’ll find him,” I promised, touching his shoulder.
“How can we help?” my stepmom asked.
I climbed on a bench. “Can I get everyone’s attention!” I shouted. “We are missing a six-year-old child.” The place went silent. “Please look for him. He’s wearing—”
Crispin jumped in. “A blue sweatshirt and green shorts. He has blond hair—”
“Wearing a blue sweatshirt and green shorts with blond hair,” I relayed into the walkie.
Dozens of adults dispersed immediately, abandoning bags and cars to find the missing child. I looked for a moment for my parents, but they were gone.
I held down the parking lot and found the rest of our staff’s locations via walkie.
Lamar checked the zipline area. Sebastian, Azalea, and Bobby had all spread out.
After five minutes, he was finally found walking in the woods at Delphinus pod by Nat.
There were cheers, some choice words to a child who “should have known better,” and an order to head to the mess hall to have a breather as every staff, camper, and family member carried themselves as if they had a weight lifted off their shoulders.
I didn’t see my parents, and I fought the urge to run and hide. There was no avoiding the inevitable. Everyone was heading into the mess hall for family breakfast, and apparently, my parents got the memo because I found them talking with Hazel at the entryway.
“She’s a wonder,” Hazel was saying. “You have no idea how happy we were to find her. With Autumn’s logistical mind and quick thinking… She’s such a great assistant director. We’d be lost without her.”
Assistant director? I’d never heard that job title before. I liked that job title, but we didn’t exactly have business cards. I didn’t care. I was going to get them made. I’d hand them out to squirrels if I had no one else to give them to.
Hazel went on. “Autumn told me you’re a sales manager, Mr. Gardner. Tell me you were the one who taught her to use spreadsheets because no human should be as good at them as she is. I assumed she learned it in the cradle.”
He laughed. “We did have some sessions when she was a preteen so that she could organize her schoolwork.”
That we did. It was a surprisingly happy moment in my childhood that I looked back on, not that there were many bad moments.
But we hadn’t had tons of time together when I was younger.
They’d both been so busy that I had to get organized or I would have floundered or, worse, needed to have my hand held.
“You’ve got quite a resort here,” my stepmom observed. “We’ve only seen a bit, but it looks like a place even I’d like to visit and”—she leaned over to whisper—“I hate the outdoors.”
Hazel did a full belly laugh and tapped my stepmom on the shoulder. “You’re invited any time. We have plenty of bug spray.”
That made my stepmom wrinkle her nose, which led to another laugh.
“Why don’t you go get some food and I’ll be right there?” I tilted my head toward the breakfast bar, and they did as asked. That left just me and Hazel.
Hazel smiled. “Didn’t mean to force your hand there but I think it’s time for a title bump, don’t you?”
“I mean…”