When I Need You (Need You #4)

I paused for a moment. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Rowan gave me a sheepish smile. “You’re a sneaky one, Lund.”

I shrugged. “I’m also pushy. So tell me the rest of it.”

The edge of authority in my voice didn’t cause her to bristle up; she let everything pour out and it broke my heart.

Her worry that every camp would be full or financially out of reach. Her confusion as to why the camp organizers waited until almost the last minute to spring the bad news on the parents. That led her to a rambling stream of consciousness about their organization’s finances—not that she’d seen their profit-and-loss statements—but wouldn’t they have realized sooner than today that they’d have funding issues? Their responses to her questions had been vague, and the director had indicated there’d be no refunds on the deposit.

I saw her relief after she’d let off steam. I understood her reluctance to share her worries—we had that in common. My brain could only take so much silent ranting before I wound up with a brutal headache.

In one breath Rowan told me she hated that I’d pushed her to talk because she didn’t want to be that annoying person who does nothing but complain about everything. In the next breath she thanked me because her usual confidant—Martin—wasn’t around.

I said, “That’s some shitty day you’ve had, sunshine.”

“What sucks is there’s nothing I can do about it, but I can’t stop obsessing over it.”

I leaned back in the chair. “So this camp . . . Is it strictly for dancers?”

“Two hours out of the six are dedicated to dancing. Then there’s theater and art stuff.”

“Did they hire different instructors for each activity? Or did the dance instructor wear more than one hat?”

“Each creative area had a separate staff member.”

I paused for a moment. “Was there an issue with staffing?”

“Serena—she was the director—didn’t give specifics. Part of me thinks there were too many issues to blame the cancellation on just one thing.”

“Can you give me a basic breakdown on why the classes were unique and the appeal to you as a parent?”

Rowan looked at me oddly, as if she’d expected me to say “The situation sucks for you, dude” and move on to a topic that interested me. But for whatever reason, she gave me a detailed breakdown of activities, fees, camp goals and the camp’s attempt at ethnic and economic diversity.

Those words started the wheels churning in my head. “Where’d they hold the camp?”

She listed the address and I whistled. “What?”

“No wonder. That area is turning into a prime location for reurbanization.”

Miss Skeptical frowned at me. “No offense, but how do you know that?”

“I’ve been dabbling in buying real estate. My brother Walker co-owns a construction business that specializes in restoration. Last year they were looking at investing in a couple of buildings. But some out-of-state conglomerate bought up all that property in a two-block area. They raised the rent across the board.”

“Isn’t that illegal in rent-control situations?” she asked.

“Not with the right lawyer. Not as long as they’re claiming that the extra income is earmarked for major upgrades they have planned. Now, three quarters of those buildings are empty. According to my brother, there’s been no renovation. He and his business partner are keeping a close eye on things because they suspect the company will just bulldoze that whole neighborhood. Although nothing in that area is considered historical.”

“No wonder it’s such a cluster. The facility they rented is right in the middle of that two-block stretch you’re talking about.” She sighed. “Which means it’s not a ‘we spent all the camp profits on booze and blow’ type situation.”

I laughed. This woman and her random responses cracked me up.

“This is serious stuff, Lund.”

“I know. So how long has this group been in business? Are they a nonprofit?”

That startled her. “I’m not sure. Why?”

“Just curious. Not that it matters since they’re defunct.”

“Exactly. So I’m no better off now than before you bullied me into ripping open my bleeding mother’s heart.”

“You’ll be a hundred times better off for your honesty, especially with me.” I stood. A brilliant potential solution to her problem had occurred to me. I needed a moment to pace and sort it out. “Gotta use the can. Be right back.”

My palms were actually sweating when I returned to the living room.

I was afraid she’d instinctively bat away the helping hand I offered. Rowan Michaels had more pride—and the stubborn streak to go with it—than anyone I’d ever met. I wasn’t sure I could fake an air of nonchalance if she shot my idea down without really listening to it.

She eyed me as I sat down. “Everything okay?”

Guess I’d taken longer in the bathroom than I’d thought. I glanced at the coffee table and noticed she’d discreetly placed a roll of antacids next to the glass of ice water she’d gotten for me. That was Rowan in a nutshell: seeing to the needs of the people around her. My normal reaction—I didn’t need her mothering me—was replaced by a warm feeling in my chest that wasn’t from indigestion.

“Jensen?” she prompted.

“I’m fine. But I do want to talk to you about something that occurred to me. And I need your word that you’ll listen without judgment or a knee-jerk reaction until I’ve finished.”

Rowan cocked her head. “You have my attention.”

“Have you heard of LCCO? Lund Cares Community Outreach?”

“Only because Dallas talked about it. Sounds like the organization does great things in the Twin Cities.”

“We do. Every member of the Lund family is involved in some way. Each year we choose a project. It can be anything from organizing a coat drive like my sister, Annika, does, to building sets for a community theater like my brother Walker, to working with at-risk youth like my brother Brady.” It sucked admitting this next part. “As the youngest in my family, I’ve let my mom and my aunts decide what charitable needs I should meet, and I go where they tell me. So I’ve never been a self-starter when it comes to my yearly LCCO project.”

Rowan frowned. “I’d think your project would be a no-brainer, Jens. You’re a sports celebrity. You could host youth football clinics and get thousands of kids to apply.”

“But that’s not really doing something worthwhile to anyone outside the sports community. Besides, I have team obligations for kids’ football clinics. Just last week my mom harassed me about getting my shit together and committing to a project or she’d find one for me.” I couldn’t repress a shudder at the very idea of baring myself for a bachelor auction. “So tonight, after hearing about the loss of Calder’s favorite summer camp, and knowing he isn’t the only kid who’ll be affected by the loss, I’ll make creating a new camp my LCCO project.”