ChapterSixteen
Oliver
The sun has set, and the sky is a dark tapestry speckled with stars by the time Archer drives me over to the cabin where I’ll be sleeping. The headlights of the golf cart bounce over piles of lumber and brick and bags of concrete wreathed in shadows. He points out the various projects in progress as we pass, at least as much as we can see by the light of the moon and the cart’s lights.
The existing buildings that used to be leased out to private renters are being gutted and remodeled with bunk beds for the campers and will house eight kids per cabin. Finley and Archer have built a few brand-new one- or two-person structures as private spaces for the instructors and counselors. Firepits are scattered throughout, along with picnic tables and two outdoor grilling areas with seating—a large one placed strategically in the space between the kids’ cabins and a smaller one near the cabin I’ll be staying in for the weekend.
“It’s fully furnished,” he says, flicking on the lights as we enter the A-frame. It opens directly into a living area, with a kitchenette off to one side. “The sleeping area and the bathroom are upstairs.” He motions to a circular staircase leading up into the open loft.
It’s small but functional. You can see part of the bed from the entryway. The walls are a neutral pale blue, and the ceiling has exposed beams in warm browns. In the kitchenette, the counters are granite and the appliances new. I put my suitcase down, and Archer hands me the key to the front door.
“Thanks for driving me over,” I tell Archer.
It was easier to leave my car up at the main house and have him drive me, using one of the golf carts, since he would have to show me where to go anyway. This way, Piper can use my vehicle or put any work items she needs into it while we’re here.
“No problem. We’ll see you for breakfast at eight. It’s going to be a busy day. Dress casual.” He grins and then leaves with a wave, jogging down the porch steps and over to the golf cart.
I bring my suitcase up the stairs and open it. Casual. I brought chinos. That will have to do. I grab my small bag of toiletries, razor, shaving cream, and other travel-sized necessities. The bathroom is entirely white and clean, with a walk-in shower and pedestal sink with no counter space and—I glance at the empty rack—no towels.
I sigh. My phone rings. I move back into the bedroom and set my bag on the narrow dresser.
“Carson,” I answer on the second ring.
“Good evening, sir. I’m calling to check in before I head out for the night.”
I look at my watch. It’s past eight. “You’re still working?” He’s normally able to leave by five.
“Just had some things to clean up and wanted to give you the status before I leave the office.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “All right. Go on.”
He rattles off a list of action items I gave him that he has completed. “I pushed back all your meetings until eleven thirty Monday morning, so you should be clear for the weekend.”
“Has Arthur checked in?” I ask.
“Yes, sir. No sign of Ben.”
“Good.” Even though I plan on spending the entire weekend with Piper, I want him to be on the lookout for Ben lurking around Mindy’s apartment.
Carson is as thorough and proficient as ever, but his voice sounds… off. It’s missing his normal spark. He’s monosyllabic and not like his normal flashy self. I almost end the conversation there—after all, it’s none of my business—but something stops me.
No, someone stops me. Piper. In my head. Telling me I care.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Hmm. Perhaps I could have taken a more sensitive approach.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“You’re distracted.”
“It’s nothing that will impact my job performance, I assure you.” He takes a small breath. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No. But…” I don’t know quite how to proceed. If it’s a personal matter, it’s not my place to interfere. “If you need anything, anything at all, you can always ask me. It doesn’t have to be about work.”
There’s a slight pause, and when he speaks, his voice is marginally less stiff. “Understood, sir.”
We hang up. I toss my phone onto the bed and then scrub my hands over my face. What is wrong with me?