The top of the woman’s head only came to Rick’s chest. He gazed down at an ocean of golden waves cascading down her back. Glistening in the sunlight, they created quite an intoxicating vision.
“I’m Rick Warren, by the way.”
“Hi, Rick.” She shifted Peewee to her other arm. “I’m—”
“Nubbin!”
Herschel’s voice boomed from behind them, followed by Agnes’s high-pitched “Summer! What are you doing here?” Agnes’s and the fairy’s voices were almost identical.
The fairy’s concerned expression softened into an angelic countenance when the couple appeared. “Hey.” She gave them hugs. “I had a little time between parties, so I thought I’d drop by.”
Herschel looked pleased, but Agnes’s brows pinched into a worried frown.
“Rick, this is our youngest daughter, Summer.” Herschel made the quick introduction. Rick wished now that Agnes had finished her earlier description of their youngest daughter.
“Summer, this is Rick Warren, the new assistant director for Camp Sunny Daze.”
The smile, which had returned, vanished again from the young woman’s eyes, instantly replaced by a hint of something that made Rick uneasy.
“Glad to meet you, Rick. Or should I call you Mr. Assistant Director?” The voice was a purr with a distinct edge to it.
“Summer runs her own business.” Agnes pointed to the dress. “Fairy Princess Parties.”
“I see.” Pretending to be a fairy princess. The idea was laughable. “Well, if the business doesn’t make a go of it, you can always get a job at a theme park, right?” Rick thought he’d made a joke, but the blue eyes shot a round of daggers his direction. He tried again. “What’s the thing—the, um, wand—made of?”
“The stick’s just painted wood, but the star’s amber.” Summer’s voice held a note of pride. “It was a gift from Mom and Dad when I started the business.”
Sparkly crowns and amber-tipped wands. He pressed his lips together. Agnes had called it—spoiled rotten indeed. Mommy and Daddy probably still subsidize the paychecks.
Summer’s indignant eyebrow arch indicated she’d read his thoughts and dared him to say anything snide.
Agnes took the still-shivering Peewee from Summer. “Why don’t we all go in and have a snack?”
Following her inside, Rick saw his chance to escape. “Thanks, but I have some things to take care of this afternoon.” He picked up the paper he’d left on the table. “Here’s the contract, signed and ready.”
“And here are those forms you wanted.” Herschel handed him a thick folder. “There are also daily itineraries of events we’ve scheduled. You’ll have quite a bit of freedom with that. These are just some basics.”
“Thanks.” Rick eyed the folder as the four of them headed toward the front door. “And don’t worry. I’m sure you’re going to locate a girls’ head counselor soon.” The look of something akin to terror that passed between Herschel and Agnes told him he’d misspoken.
Summer’s eyes widened in question, and her gaze darted between her parents.
“Yes, well, we’ll be in touch. Thanks again, Rick.”
Herschel’s slaps on the back pushed Rick out the door.
As he made his way down the sidewalk, he couldn’t keep from gawking at the old, gaudily painted purple SUV with Fairy Princess Parties lettered down its side in baby pink.
A grown woman parading around as a fairy princess. Hell-pee-roo.
* * *
SUMMER LAUNCHED INTO HER SPIEL as soon as condescending Rick Warren was out of earshot. “You told me the girls’ head counselor position was filled.”
Her mother swallowed nervously. “Well, it was, dear. But Hannah backed out yesterday.”
“So you’re going to consider me, after all. Right?” Summer fought to keep the little-girl whine out of her voice—the one that always brought her dad to his knees. The one she’d used to talk them into buying the camp. None of them anticipated the downward turn in the economy—investing in Kentucky Lake real estate should’ve been a sure thing—or the downward spiral of her dad’s health. But her parents were in a financial crisis now, and it was her fault.
Summer had done a lot of soul-searching after her dad’s heart attack. She’d been a burden to her parents with her flighty ways, but those days were behind her. She would repay every cent she owed her parents and never disappoint them again. She’d turned over a new leaf, was working hard, making monthly payments. And here was an opportunity to make up for a large chunk of her failures.
Charlie was going to retire soon, which meant they’d be looking for a new camp director. She was determined to earn that position for herself. She could make the camp turn a profit again, she was sure.
The girls’ head counselor position wasn’t camp director, but it was a start.
“Nubbin.” Her dad’s arm moved toward her shoulder, but her wing got in the way. Instead, his arm rested heavily around her waist as they walked back to the family room. “We’ve been through this before. There’s a lot at stake here. We just don’t think you’re ready for—”
“I know I’ve been irresponsible in the past. The colleges and vocational programs you paid for. But I’m twenty-eight now. My business is doing okay, and I’m making monthly payments to y’all, and I’m really good with kids.” She threw a thumb in the direction of the front door. “What about Mr. Stiff Neck? He didn’t strike me as the type who would be good with kids. You should have heard how he yelled at Peewee.” She plucked the pooch from her mom’s arms and nuzzled the top of his head.
“Rick Warren is a fine young man.” Her mom washed her hands and busied herself arranging cheese straws on a plate. “He came highly recommended by Gus. He’s been a marine and a park ranger, and was the deputy director for the Western Kentucky Division of the Department of Wildlife until just recently.”
Impressive, but titles didn’t mean the guy wasn’t a jerk. “If he’s such a great guy, what happened with that job?”
“Politics.” Her dad plopped into his chair. “New administration. Bad economy. They’re cutting lots of satellite offices, and his was one.”
“There wasn’t anywhere else for him to go?” Summer thought back to her first impression. Seeing a hunky guy walk out of her parents’ house wasn’t something she’d expected. “So a handsome, successful guy like that with no job offers? Something’s fishy.”
“He is handsome, isn’t he?” Her mother smiled dreamily.
Summer didn’t respond, preferring not to think about Rick’s impossibly broad, squared shoulders, or that blond crew cut that showed off pleasant blue-green eyes, or the dimples that were so deep she could see them from yards away.
“Gus told us he was offered a job in Frankfort. A good job.” Her dad popped a whole cheese straw in his mouth and reached for another. “But he wouldn’t take it and leave his staff here stranded with nothing. He’s hoping to get back on as a ranger in the fall, and he’s working on his real-estate license just in case.”
Summer grimaced at the admiration in her dad’s voice. Rick Warren had already been elevated to hero-worship status while she remained the poster child for People Not to Pin Your Hopes On. A flare of jealousy mixed with embarrassment churned her insides. “Well, he may be a swell guy, but he doesn’t love y’all the way I do, and he won’t have your best interests at heart. You sank all your money into this—”
“Which is why we need—”
“Me!” Her heart beat faster. “You need someone who knows you and...and your values. Someone who’ll keep an eye on Rick Warren to make sure he handles things the way you want and doesn’t yell at the kids the way he did poor Peewee.”
That drew a frown from her mom. “Surely he wouldn’t do that.” She chewed on her bottom lip. Not a bad sign.
Summer snorted, making another attempt to drive the point home. “Once a marine, always a marine. And Charlie won’t be out with the kids all the time. Most of the time it’s only the kids and t
he counselors.”
Her parents’ eyes met. They were weakening. If they had more time, she’d lose this one, but the camp was scheduled to open in a few weeks, and plenty of preliminary plans still needed to be taken care of. They needed a head counselor for the girls.
Her mother’s eyes widened suddenly. She’d found a loophole. “But what about your business? You can’t be away from it the whole summer. Not on such short notice. You’ve already got parties booked.”
Summer had thought that one out some time ago, in case anything like her dad’s health ever pulled her away. “Best friend to the rescue. Kate’s my fairy-princess-in-waiting. She’s already said she’d be glad to be my fill-in if I ever need one, and she’s looking for a summer job. And no,” she countered before they could broach the subject, “she’s not interested in the counselor position. She doesn’t swim and despises sweating.”
Her parents exchanged looks again, and this time things felt positive. Hopelessly resigned for their part, but positive for her. Her mind whirred for the definitive coup de grâce. “I’ll work for free.”
Two sets of eyes swung toward her.
“I mean it. I don’t know what you’re planning to pay the counselors, but whatever it is, you can keep my part. It’s just another way I can pay you back what I owe.” And show you I’m up to the challenge.
“Well, you are good with little girls,” her dad acquiesced.
“I’m great with little girls! I have all those games and activities from my parties I can use.” She did a quick mental inventory of additional items she might need. “Do you still have some of that green granite?”
“In the workshop.”
“Can you cut some more stars for me? They’ll be perfect for special wands I can use as awards. This is so exciting!” Using her fairy princess persona, she flitted to her mom, then her dad, and planted kisses on each of their cheeks. “I can make the camp a fairy princess dream come true!”
“But remember.” Her dad shook his finger in her direction. “Rick’s taking Gus’s place as assistant director, so he’s in charge. Whatever he says, goes.”
“Of course!” Summer smiled sweetly, but her insides jumped in a wild dance of victory. Her kid-radar told her Mr. Haughty wouldn’t have the vaguest idea how to deal with kids. She’d be surprised if he made it a month. A week might even be pushing it.
But she wouldn’t let her parents down this time. She’d be there to show them what she was capable of when Mr. Marine hightailed it outta there.
CHAPTER TWO
THE LOGS NEEDED SOME CHINKING, windows needed caulk and the screen door wouldn’t close completely. Taking it off the hinges and planing it down would take care of that. Otherwise, the cabin that Summer Delaney would be staying in was structurally sound.
Rick hurried to check the bathroom plumbing and finish up the notes on the cabin Herschel asked him to make for future reference. Summer would be arriving in an hour, and he’d given his word not to let her in on the possibility of selling the camp and the cabins. Evidently, it was Summer who’d talked the Delaneys into buying in the first place, and Herschel didn’t want his Nubbin upset by the possibility of the camp property becoming a subdivision. Hell-pee-roo! Why didn’t they just level with her? Treat her like a grown woman rather than a spoiled child?
Rick blew his breath out in a huff. It was none of his business.
But the camp was his business, literally, for the next two months. He’d seen enough of Summer’s ways at the staff meeting to know he and Miss Fairy Princess weren’t going to see eye-to-eye. She kept insisting the kids needed more unstructured time—“time to have fun and just be kids.”
Kids without structure were kids who got into trouble, his dad always said, so Rick and his brothers had daily schedules of chores and lessons, which got checked at the end of each day. If anything was missed, a deduction came out of their weekly allowance. Rick hated it.
But it turned out his dad was right. Rick had learned that lesson the hard way in Afghanistan. Kids with no structure got in trouble...and got hurt. He paused for just a moment before forcing his mind into a U-turn, back to the task at hand.
He made a note the bathroom sink had a slow drip and the toilet stool continued to run when he flushed it. He shook the handle to make it stop. Both easy fixes.
“I thought this was my cabin.”
Rick spun around to find Summer watching him, a large duffel, a hanging bag and a satchel on the bed behind her.
Damn it! She’s early. “I, um...I was just doing a last-minute inspection.” His face warmed as he snapped shut the folder he’d been writing in and tucked it under his arm.
Her forehead wrinkled in suspicion as her eyes cut from the folder to his face. “Inspection?”
“Making sure everything’s in good working order.”
“That’s Charlie’s job.”
Day-to-day operations were Charlie’s job, but the old guy was getting up in years. Rick had offered to help get the place ready to sell—if and when it came to that. “Yes, well, Charlie could use a hand.”
Summer swung around and moved to the bed, removing a stack of papers from the satchel. She thrust them toward him. “Activity sheets.”
So she was still pissed about the forms he’d required her to fill out. Well, too bad. Owners’ daughter or not, he intended to keep her accountable for every waking minute these kids spent under his guard. “Thanks.” He slid them into the folder, keeping it tilted so she couldn’t see the contents, and let his eyes rove over the pieces of luggage on her bed. “You have a lot to unpack.” Sarcasm found its way into his tone. “I’ll let you get started.”
“Don’t forget your white gloves. I’m sure they’re lying around here somewhere.” She turned her back, dismissing him, and unzipped her duffel.
* * *
MARY MARGARET AVERY-HENSON’S mother handed Summer a list of emergency contacts. Summer scanned it quickly. Mother. Father. Stepfather. Stepmother. Maternal grandparents. Paternal grandparents. Step-maternal grandparents. Step-paternal grandparents.
Piano recitals must be a hoot for this kid.
Mary Margaret peeked out from behind her mom. Chin-length brown hair hung straight, in desperate need of a trim. Large, soulful brown eyes full of fear and apprehension. This child was a prime candidate for some extensive fairy princess training.
Summer held her hand out. “Hi, Mary. I’m Summer.”
“It’s Mary Margaret,” her mother corrected. “My ex-husband and I agreed from the beginning we would call our child by whatever full name we gave her.”
Summer tried again. “Well then, hello, Mary Margaret.”
“Say hello, Mary Margaret,” her mother prompted, and the child’s mouth moved in an inaudible “Hi.”
Mary Margaret didn’t offer to take her hand, so Summer gave her a quick pat on the shoulder.
“She’s very shy, which is one of the reasons we thought this would be a good idea. Her father and I agreed some time away might be good for her. Bring her out of some of her reticence, we hope.”
“And just have a lot of fun.” Summer nodded and winked at Mary Margaret, but the child’s expression didn’t change. “Well, everyone else is over in the girls’ bunkhouse—”
“Oh, dear! They’re not sleeping in bunks, are they?” The mother’s voice was filled with panic, the same look of fear Summer had seen in the child. “Because her father and I agreed to never have her sleep in an upper bunk. If she fell out, it could—”
“There are no upper bunks,” Summer assured her. “All twin beds on the floor. We just call it a bunkhouse because it sounds more rustic than dormitory. More campy.”
“Oh. All right, then.” The woman’s eyes cut nervously toward the bunkhouse, then down to her daughter.
“Well, as I was saying, you can get your stuff put away. Tara, the assistant counselor, is in there helping everybody get settled. We have our first activity planned for an hour from now.”
The woman drew a l
ong breath and nodded. With Mary Margaret by one hand and the duffel in the other, she started toward the girls’ dorm. “Now, Mary Margaret, your father and I agree that this will be a good experience for you. ...” Her voice trailed off as they moved away.
Summer couldn’t keep from wondering what the trouble in that marriage had been since it seemed Mary Margaret’s mother and father agreed on everything.
She glanced toward the boys’ side of the camp. Rick Warren still had a couple of people to check in. He stood very straight with his very official clipboard, nodding at a camper and checking things off a list with what she was sure was a military-issue pencil. He didn’t seem to notice that the boy’s mother was standing closer than was necessary, touching his arm in a flirtatious manner. Obviously, the woman didn’t know what a pain in the ass Rick Warren could be.
Nobody seemed to pick up on that except her.
She was still seething about the staff meeting a few weeks ago when Rick’s body visibly stiffened at the announcement she’d been hired as the girls’ head counselor. And once her dad introduced him as head counselor and assistant director, General Warren just took over, laying out rules and regulations like he was running some kind of POW camp. The audacity of the guy! Seeing her dad pass the responsibility of the camp to a virtual stranger made her heart sink then and every time she’d thought about it since—including now.
She’d tried to show her assertion at the meeting. But when she’d brought up the subject of downtime, Rick had poo-pooed her ideas. To make matters worse, her dad had agreed with him.
Rick Warren put her on edge, made her feel as if he were hiding something. Snooping around her cabin that morning...hiding the file he held. She didn’t know what he was up to, but she didn’t like it. Or him.
Right at that moment, Rick’s face broke into a dazzling smile, directed at the mother who was standing too close, and a flare of anger shot through Summer. Tsk, tsk. Flirting with the parents. How inappropriate.
The Summer Place Page 2