Camping – Everett
Chapter thirty-seven
I woke up to a blaring phone. “Yeah.”
“It’s on,” a husky voice answered.
“On?”
“The camping thing. He’ll be here to load up in about five minutes.”
“Oh? Oh. Yeah. Sorry, just waking up. Thanks, Brock. I’m on my way.”
“Do you need us to stall a little?”
“Yes. I have to load the car still. I can be on my way in less than five minutes though.”
“Great. See ya there.” Brock hung up.
Conroy had been right about this so far. Brock and Eddy were more than willing to help, and Jackie promised to open and run the store for the short time they would be away. And more importantly, not tell Cameron—or anyone else in this overly chatty town—what was going on.
My gear was organized by the front door, so I grabbed it and loaded up my car. Then I made a double batch of coffee from the single-serve machine and headed out. It would be a decent drive, but hopefully I’d make it before them.
I wasn’t a big fan of camping, but it wasn’t like I’d never been before.
I’d always had help setting up, but it couldn’t be that hard.
I should have it all together before they arrived.
I reserved the spot and gave Brock and Eddy the information.
The plan was for them to get Cameron up there and then leave.
The whole thing was about getting Cameron back.
They could camp if they wanted to, at a different site, but I doubted they would.
Eddy, who hated camping—his words—was willing to go through with the charade because Cameron was being a big sour puss, according to Eddy, and Eddy didn’t actually have to camp.
Brock agreed for the same sour puss reason and promised to take his indoor cat home immediately after dropping Cameron off.
Once I checked in and reached the campsite, I started laying out the equipment.
I managed to get the tent about halfway up, but it sat cockeyed in its spot.
One portion was way too low. I couldn’t figure out exactly where I’d gone wrong.
I probably mixed up the poles, and that meant taking it apart and doing it again. I needed a break first.
I walked around the campsite, picking up small pieces of sticks and leaves for kindling, and piled them in the fire pit. I laid some bigger branches on top of them and stacked the nice firewood to the side to add once the fire got going. I lit a match and dropped it in the kindling.
Nothing happened.
Gently, I blew on the stack. Still nothing.
I struck another match and carefully lit some leaves on the edge of the pile, but it promptly went out.
At least there would be food and drink. And I even had wine in the cooler. We could get the rest going later. Or whatever. I opened up a couple of camping chairs and sat down to wait.