Chapter 3 #2
“What?” She feigns a poor connection with a hissing sound. “What’s that? You want me to eat all your gourmet pickles? If you insist.”
She hangs up before I can object.
I don’t relish the idea of Lizzie in my space while I’m gone, but at least I know my kitchen will be spotless when I get home. My sister is the queen of ordering out.
I take the turn toward Lake Willa and inhale an anxious breath. Courtney Abernathy was feistier than my usual business associates. More attractive too. Then again, most of my work interactions involve balding men over forty, so a beautiful woman in her thirties is a nice change of pace.
Did my stream of consciousness upgrade her from attractive to beautiful? I slam the door shut on that line of thinking. Not helpful, Charlie .
Today the parking lot is packed with a variety of vehicles—mostly older sedans, jeeps, and a couple trucks. I slide my Audi between a pickup truck and a VW Beetle, grab my duffel bag from the passenger seat, and follow the painted wooden signs that direct campers to Courtney’s office.
There’s no line outside her door, which I guess is no surprise given that camp officially started already.
I enjoy her look of surprise when she looks up and registers my presence. “You again.”
I flash the smile I reserve for new clients. “Me again, but I’m not here to get you to sign anything.”
She looks dubious. “No?”
“You said I could stay if I registered as a camper.” I spread my arms wide. “So here I am.”
“ You want to attend camp?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Shouldn’t you be playing sportsball somewhere?”
“I gave up sportsball a long time ago.” I try to maintain a casual air. “I liked your description of this place—a home away from home. A place to belong. I’d like to have that experience.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize there’s a kernel of truth in them.
Some people would cite my office as my home away from home.
While there’s a certain comfort in that space, it’s more about safety than acceptance.
As long as I’m at my desk in my ergonomic chair with my view of the city, I’m somebody.
My job is the equivalent of a statement piece—and when I can add ‘youngest partner in the firm’s history,’ even better.
She seems to read my mind. “You don’t have that feeling when you’re lording over the plebes in the city from the top floor of your fancy skyscraper?”
“Mine’s the fifteenth floor.”
She winces. “Oomph. How many more ambulances do you need to catch to reach the penthouse?”
“That’s not the kind of law I practice.”
She cracks a smile. “I know, but I don’t have any ready insults for a corporate lawyer.”
“While I’m here, try to think of me as Charlie Thorpe.” I gesture to my T-shirt. “See? No boring tie.”
“Got it.” She seems unimpressed by my Lord of the Rings -inspired attire. Hmm. I figured this one would be a winner.
“Does that mean I can stay?” I hear the hopeful tone in my voice, and it takes me by surprise. I think a small part of me wants her to refuse, but if she refuses, then I can kiss partnership goodbye.
Interesting.
“What makes you think I have availability? For all you know, there’s a waitlist.”
“Is there?” I’ve seen enough documentation to know it’s unlikely.
“No. There is one cabin open. Technically someone registered for it, but he was a no-show last year, and I imagine he will be again this year.” She hesitates. “Are you sure you want to do this? There’s not a ball to be seen. I assume that’s what you’re into.”
“Until I wasn’t.”
She shoots me a questioning look. “You look like you’re active.”
I can’t tell whether that’s a compliment. “I run, play basketball and golf, lift weights—the usual.”
“Those things aren’t usual here. There’s no gym either, if that matters to you, although I can recommend a sturdy branch for pull-ups if you don’t want to skip that part of your routine.”
I decide to humor her. “I’d love to see it.”
She seems to be waging an internal debate. “Inclusiveness is our motto.”
“I thought your motto was ‘let your geek flag fly?’”
Courtney cocks her head, assessing me. “You seem like you could use a little help with that.” She opens the drawer and slaps a key on the desk. “Welcome to camp, Chucky.”
“It’s Charles, or Charlie. Nobody calls me Chucky.” Unless you’re a grade-A douche like Matt, who sometimes uses the nickname in an attempt to belittle me while appearing friendly.
“No one ever calls you Chucky, like the murderous doll?”
“Nope.” A tiny white lie never hurt anybody.
“Huh.”
“Why? Do I remind you of a murderous doll?”
“Must be the hair.”
I automatically smooth the top of my head. “Do your frames always match your outfit?”
She pinches the arm of her glasses. “I consider them part of the ensemble. If only you could see the red, white, and blue frames I wear on Flag Day. They’re shaped like stars.”
I try to picture someone like Courtney working in my office, but the image refuses to come.
Most likely she’d be summoned to HR on her first day and told to ditch the funwear.
I remember the day Rob Fuentes showed up with an earring and they gave him an ultimatum—lose the earring or lose the job.
He quit. I thought it was a foolish decision given the amount of his student loans, but I gave him mad props for his commitment to his principles.
“Do I get a welcome tour?” The more I learn about the camp, the faster I can find my leverage and return to my comfortable life. Her office is the obvious starting point, but she seems like the type to have boxes of paperwork stuffed in the loft of a barn.
“Absolutely. Sorry, I should’ve offered. It’s been a few years since we’ve had a new camper. Everybody this year is a repeater, except one.” She smiles. “And now two.”
“Lucky me.”
I locate my cabin with the help of an impressive map that looks like it belongs in a fantasy novel. With a pitched roof, ruddy walls, and small, sparing windows, mine seems identical to the other residential cabins.
I toss my belongings on the bed and meet Courtney back at her office for the tour, where she hands me a printed schedule.
“It’s on the members-only page of the website, but as I mentioned, the connection is unreliable so it’s best to keep this with you. We’ll start there.” She points to the nearest building, which resembles the other cabins, except for the sign on the door that reads ‘Danger Zone.’
Inside is a selection of tables—I spot an assortment of Legos on one, a chess set on the second, and basic science equipment on the third. At present there’s only one person occupying the space, a girl who looks far too young to be attending an 18+ retreat.
“Charlie, meet Olivia.”
The girl pulls her face away from the microscope. “I’m going to bring back dinosaurs like Jurassic Park , and this campground is the perfect place to experiment.”
“Because it’s isolated?” I ask.
“And plenty of food. Dinosaurs eat a lot .”
I shoot a nervous glance at Cricket. “She means the cafeteria, right?”
“Officially, yes,” Olivia says, as she shakes her head no.
I strain to listen. “Do I hear music?”
Olivia holds up her phone. “I play the theme song on a continuous loop for inspiration.”
“Good luck, Liv. Let us know when we should prepare for the raptors.” Courtney eases us out and closes the door.
“Should we be worried about that?” I ask, as we walk to the neighboring building.
“Relax. It’s a kid’s microscope and a petri dish full of seeds and liquid soap. The only thing she’s liable to develop with that is a rash.”
“I thought these two weeks are adults only.”
“They are, but there are exceptions to every rule.” She pauses. “Like someone who turns up with a duffel bag and entitlement issues and asks to register at the last minute.”
“Hey, you told me it was okay.”
“I know what I said.”
Next is the cabin designated for board games. There’s already a group gathered around a table, including a white-bearded older man who bears a striking resemblance to every wizard I’ve ever seen in a movie. Generic Wizard turns over the hourglass.
“Hey, isn’t the sand in those things usually white?” I ask.
Courtney casts an idle glance at the hourglass. “Usually.”
“Then what happened with this one?”
“That isn’t sand.”
“It’s her grandfather,” the wizard says.
“Ben!”
I jump back. Everybody laughs, and I relax. “Oh, I get it. Another prank. I thought we were all done with those.”
“No, it isn’t a prank,” Ben tells me. “Those are her grandfather’s ashes. He spread himself a little thin if you ask me, but that was his dying wish. Even wrote it in his will.”
I look at Courtney for confirmation, and she nods. “Pops loved his family. Game nights were some of his most precious memories. He didn’t want to be left out after he died.”
I pick up the hourglass and examine its contents. “And your family was okay with his request? Just because someone makes a request in their will doesn’t mean you’re legally obligated to honor it.”
“I know,” Courtney says. “I liked the idea. It was vintage Pops.” She plucks the hourglass from my hand and sets it on the table. “And now I get to think of him fondly every time I’m playing a game I enjoy. It’s a win-win.”
I don’t know how I feel about it, but I decide to roll with it. “Playing a game with a dead man is definitely a new experience for me.”
“I imagine you’ll be having a lot of those experiences the next two weeks, old sport.”
We rise from her grandfather’s ashes and move on to a cabin crammed with people in costumes seated around a table.
“Dungeons & Dragons,” she explains. “Everyone, this is Chucky.”
“Charlie,” I say, a little loudly given the quiet of the room. And now I sound aggressive. Great.
A few players grunt in response, but they barely look up from their tabletop game.
“What’s with the pointy ears?” I ask, gesturing to one of the women.
“They’re elf ears,” Courtney explains like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which it seems to be here.
The elf turns to glare at us.