*
THEY had a mandatory camp-wide meeting on the marina beach following dinner, after which there would be a big inter-team beach party. Their evening meal had been especially light because Mira, the camp cook, would be providing food and drink for the festivities later tonight. The kids bubbled with anticipation and good spirits. A DJ had been hired to play music later, and there would be a bonfire. A lifeguard was present and the beam lights would be turned on in case any kids wanted to swim.
Like the kids, Alice was wired tonight, still ebullient from her hiring meeting and the prospect of meeting Dylan in a few hours. She’d missed him so much, despite the uncertainties she’d been having thanks to Thad’s accusations. From experience, however, she knew that as soon as she saw Dylan, as soon as he touched her, that all her doubts would be forgotten.
Because of her keyed-up state, she was standing a few feet back from her seated group of kids, too excited to sit still.
After the meeting, the managers all undertook the task of handing out a photo booklet to each camper and counselor. It was like a camp yearbook, filled with photos and commemorations of memorable events, both serious and amusing ones. There were blank pages where the kids could have staff and friends sign. Other managers were walking among the kids, carrying boxes with Camp Durand keepsake pens. A few other managers were passing out T-shirts and hats.
A party atmosphere prevailed. She watched as Sal Rigo passed out the booklets to her kids, feeling happy but a little melancholy, too, at the idea of saying good-bye. She’d grown so fond of them. Their faces all looked alight with the setting sun and excitement, but Alice thought she recognized something else. They looked . . . proud.
She thought back to her interview with Dylan. Finally, she understood what he’d meant. Camp Durand really wasn’t about strutting corporate philanthropy, publicity, prime photo ops, or even hiring the best and brightest managers. It was about the kids. Communities and people-building didn’t have to be kept in a separate realm from corporate success and growth. In many ways, this camp was like the lifeblood of the whole organization, the origins of its driving principles, the source of its yearly renewal. Alan and Lynn Durand had recognized that. They’d nurtured that ideal, and so had Dylan.
Standing there on that beach as the kids’ excited chatter and shrieks grew to a dull roar, she suspected that maybe . . . just maybe, she could really belong at Durand Enterprises. This was Alan and Lynn’s legacy. It was Dylan’s.
A newly born sense of pride swelled large inside her.
She beamed at Sal as he walked toward her.
“I see they’ve got you doing some honest work tonight,” Alice told Rigo with a grin as she accepted her booklet.
“We’re a little short-staffed,” Rigo said, keeping his voice low.
“Yeah, I noticed that. Jessica Moder still isn’t feeling well? Someone told me she was sick after I was called in for my meeting with the managers,” Alice explained when she saw the question in Rigo’s eyes.
He nodded. “Yeah. Flu bug or something. Elle Perez just went back to her cabin with it, as well. And Kehoe is still gone. Congratulations on your hire, by the way.”
“You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?” she joked, leafing through her book.
“No. I knew you had it in you.” She glanced up, surprised by sincerity of his tone. His eyebrows went up. “If we could ever catch you, that is.”
Alice laughed. She saw Sal’s tiny, fleeting smile before he turned away to pass out the books to the Orange Team.
NINETEEN
Moving with a rapid sense of purpose, Dylan strode down the castle’s downstairs hallway. Marie, his cook, must have heard him coming because she was staring at the entryway, holding a covered plate in her hand, when he entered the kitchen.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t be home until around eight,” she said. “I was just about to put your dinner in the fridge and take off.”
“I changed my plans. And that’s fine, you’re free to go. Lock up on the way out, will you?” He glanced distractedly around the large kitchen. “Where do we keep the flashlights down here?”
“In the pantry, right side, top drawer,” Marie said, giving him a curious glance as he hastened to the pantry.
“Night, Marie,” he called before he headed for the back stairs and charged up them two at a time.