questionable decision she’d made since she’d packed a suitcase and walked out of her New York apartment. “If I could spruce up the place, fix those rusty swing sets, buy some new paddleboats, advertise some specials for the young families of my grandparent’s former clients, I might be able to lure in more bookings, which would bring in more cash.”
“I noticed the place looked a little…tattered.”
“I prefer ‘well-loved.’”
“You know I live out of a semi half the year, right? I’ve got no place to put these.”
“I wasn’t trying to sell them to you, Tess.”
“Why did you show them to me then?”
Riley shrugged. “Because you know them, that’s all.”
Tess dipped her head so her bangs covered her eyes. Riley knew it was always the guests who loved Camp Kwenback the best. The folks who wrote long apology letters about how their teenager’s schedule didn’t allow them to reserve a week’s vacation, but how we loved those long, lazy summer days at the camp. She never felt the same kind of nostalgia among her family. The folks who truly loved the place were like this former runaway, who still rubbed Bob’s belly for luck when she didn’t think anyone was watching.
Now Tess wandered amid the maze of the bears, the heels of her sandals scraping across the debris on the floor. “What about that old mini-golf area down by the entrance to the camp?”
“Other than that it’s on my very, very long list to be repaired, what about it?”
“Your grandfather let my first grade class have our end of year party there.”
“I remember those days. The clown with the rust-streaked face used to scare the crap out of me.”
“That’s a good reason to pull down all that rusty stuff.” Tess ruffled her fingers through the short hair at the nape of her neck. “I thought…maybe you can replace all that with these bears.”
Riley blinked at the sculptures, most of them mounted on solid poly-coated stumps. “How?”
“I could saw some holes in the bases for the balls to go through. It wouldn’t take much effort.”
Riley had a vision of Tess in a high school woodshop, bent over some machine spitting sparks that reflected in her safety goggles.
“I used to work for a contractor,” Tess explained as she walked to the workbench, poking around the tools in search of something. “He was a friend of my father’s. I ended up at my father’s house after…after I’d had enough of the runaway circuit. His friend took me on his crew as a favor, and I picked up a lot of skills.”
“I thought you just drove eighteen-wheelers.”
“Being a Jill-of-all-trades has its advantages in a tough labor market. Ah.” She lifted a silver box. “I knew Bud would keep a measuring tape here.”
“It’s an interesting idea,” Riley said, as Tess strode back to the bears, “but the mini-golf has always just been another perk of staying at the camp. Even if I had it fixed up, it won’t draw in more bookings.”
“Make it public.”
Riley blinked, surprised at the idea.
Tess asked, “Isn’t the Putting Palace the nearest mini-golf around here?”
“Y-yes.”
“That’s ten long miles up the road. You could call your mini-golf the Bear’s Den.” Tess crouched by Winnie’s base and pulled out the metal measuring tape. “I’d be happy to fix it up for you.”
Riley stuttered, “Tess, I don’t—”
“I’m not used to hanging around, Riley.” The tape closed with a snap. “Gives me too much time to think. A project like this would give me something to do other than dodge grammar school teachers in downtown Pine Lake, as well as cops who should have retired years ago.”
“So I take it that you still haven’t visited your mother.”
Tess’s jaw tightened. She paced to a far bear as if she hadn’t heard the question at all. Riley wondered if Tess was using this project as an excuse to give her more time to muster courage. She felt a twinge of sympathy for Tess—and admiration,
“I noticed the place looked a little…tattered.”
“I prefer ‘well-loved.’”
“You know I live out of a semi half the year, right? I’ve got no place to put these.”
“I wasn’t trying to sell them to you, Tess.”
“Why did you show them to me then?”
Riley shrugged. “Because you know them, that’s all.”
Tess dipped her head so her bangs covered her eyes. Riley knew it was always the guests who loved Camp Kwenback the best. The folks who wrote long apology letters about how their teenager’s schedule didn’t allow them to reserve a week’s vacation, but how we loved those long, lazy summer days at the camp. She never felt the same kind of nostalgia among her family. The folks who truly loved the place were like this former runaway, who still rubbed Bob’s belly for luck when she didn’t think anyone was watching.
Now Tess wandered amid the maze of the bears, the heels of her sandals scraping across the debris on the floor. “What about that old mini-golf area down by the entrance to the camp?”
“Other than that it’s on my very, very long list to be repaired, what about it?”
“Your grandfather let my first grade class have our end of year party there.”
“I remember those days. The clown with the rust-streaked face used to scare the crap out of me.”
“That’s a good reason to pull down all that rusty stuff.” Tess ruffled her fingers through the short hair at the nape of her neck. “I thought…maybe you can replace all that with these bears.”
Riley blinked at the sculptures, most of them mounted on solid poly-coated stumps. “How?”
“I could saw some holes in the bases for the balls to go through. It wouldn’t take much effort.”
Riley had a vision of Tess in a high school woodshop, bent over some machine spitting sparks that reflected in her safety goggles.
“I used to work for a contractor,” Tess explained as she walked to the workbench, poking around the tools in search of something. “He was a friend of my father’s. I ended up at my father’s house after…after I’d had enough of the runaway circuit. His friend took me on his crew as a favor, and I picked up a lot of skills.”
“I thought you just drove eighteen-wheelers.”
“Being a Jill-of-all-trades has its advantages in a tough labor market. Ah.” She lifted a silver box. “I knew Bud would keep a measuring tape here.”
“It’s an interesting idea,” Riley said, as Tess strode back to the bears, “but the mini-golf has always just been another perk of staying at the camp. Even if I had it fixed up, it won’t draw in more bookings.”
“Make it public.”
Riley blinked, surprised at the idea.
Tess asked, “Isn’t the Putting Palace the nearest mini-golf around here?”
“Y-yes.”
“That’s ten long miles up the road. You could call your mini-golf the Bear’s Den.” Tess crouched by Winnie’s base and pulled out the metal measuring tape. “I’d be happy to fix it up for you.”
Riley stuttered, “Tess, I don’t—”
“I’m not used to hanging around, Riley.” The tape closed with a snap. “Gives me too much time to think. A project like this would give me something to do other than dodge grammar school teachers in downtown Pine Lake, as well as cops who should have retired years ago.”
“So I take it that you still haven’t visited your mother.”
Tess’s jaw tightened. She paced to a far bear as if she hadn’t heard the question at all. Riley wondered if Tess was using this project as an excuse to give her more time to muster courage. She felt a twinge of sympathy for Tess—and admiration,
Similar Books
