Page 17 of Lady and the Camp
The room deadened to silence. I braved a look at Hudson whose earlier confidence shrank to nothing. Twila shot me a scornful expression layered with disappointment.
I sighed. “We only have the budget for one hire. I know you need help in the office, Twila, but Maggie needs support. It’s not safeby lawif we get a single additional camper. If a counselor is out sick or quits, we’re screwed.” I took a breath. “We intended for this to be a regrouping summer. Keep things small and work out the kinks.”
“Respectfully, I’m great at working out kinks,” Hudson announced, then blushed, looking surprised by her own comment.
I couldn’t help it, I laughed.
“That came out weird,” she said. “I mean, I can adapt. I adapt all the time to shifting algorithms and trends.”
“Algorithms?”
“She’s a social media star,” Twila announced with pride. “I looked you up,” she told Hudson.
Her face drained of color. Whose skin worked like that? Blush and pale and blush and pale. Couldn’t be healthy.
She tugged at her hair. “You did?”
Twila nodded and looked at me. “She’s got a whole YouTube channel with a million followers! Skincare and wellness. I subscribed today.”
Hudson stared into the distance. “I’m hoping that part of my life can stay separate from here. If that’s okay.”
Twila placed a hand over Hudson’s. “Of course, dear. Marcy said to keep your employment details discreet. A secret celebrity. I’m honored she trusted me with your fame secret.” She inched closer. “You know, I was thinking, Hudson. You can store any of your fancy things here in the camp office. We have a cabinet that locks.”
“Oh…sure. What will I wear here?”
“We can order you a couple camp shirts in your size. Maybe some shorts.”
I looked between them. None of this mattered. “I’m sorry, this isn’t going to work. I’ve got my own boss to answer to, and we’ve got a call in—” I checked my watch. “Ten minutes. About the budget. I can’t say we’ve already hired somebody when the budget to hire anyone hasn’t been approved.”
Twila gasped with excitement. “Maybe you can ask for more money. Foranotherhire.”
She thought she was so clever. “Look, we’re barely hanging on.” I hated worrying over camp budgets. I’d much rather lead survival expeditions and tackle advanced trails in the mountains. At least as a guide at the old camp, I’d taught the next generation how to build fires and identify poisonous plants. Now? Now my stints in the woods involved yarn crafts and walks that required constant stopping to treat “ouchies.”
Scratch that. I’d take an afternoon of ouchies over budget calls.
Hudson stood. “I need this job. I’m sorry I’m not what you expected, but I really am adaptable. I have a lot of…varied skills.”
I doubted fashion sense and YouTube translated to camp life.
“She graduated from University of Michigan,” Twila added.
I grumbled. “You told me that already. Unless your degree is in outdoors activities or children’s crafts, I don’t know how it helps.”
“I’ll do whatever job you need.” Hudson straightened, seeming to call up that confidence, despite her silly hair color. “Marcy said you’d pull through,” she said more quietly.
Marcy. I kept forgetting she knew Marcy. She was practically my sister, and her brothers like my own. They’d lived on the block behind ours, a quick cut through two neighbors’ backyards and through their gated fence. Her mother and my dad were siblings, and stayed close. I’d experienced my first taste of the outdoors camping with my aunt and uncle along with Marcy and her two brothers. My own parents weren’t fond of roughing it, so they happily sent me off with enough food to feed a well-equipped regiment.
Our adventures had been simple. Unpretentious. We pitched tents and slept in sleeping bags my uncle found at an Army surplus store. None of those water-repellent synthetic insulated types that set you back hundreds of bucks. We toured state parks and mom-and-pop owned campgrounds. I still loved that little campground ten miles out of town where we’d escape for a campfire and hiking fix. Probably why I ended up with a soft spot for an aging camp like this when I’d dreamed so much bigger.
“How do you know Marcy?” I couldn’t recall any mention of a Hudson, though I hadn’t exactly been up-to-date with my cousin’s life. Mostly my fault. Nope—all my fault. I wasn’t great at keeping in touch.
“College. We were roommates.”
“Hmm.”
“She’s looking out for me,” Hudson said. “She’s good people.”
Yeah, wasn’t that the truth. Marcy took after her mother, who’d taken on the role of tirelessly planning events to keep our extended Italian family gathering regularly. Marcy did her own version of that with us—her cousins, brothers, and her brother’s best friend, who we’d absorbed into our little clan in high school. Marcy cheered me on at the extreme mudder obstacle races I’d done during my obsession with course competitions. She made the effort first to message me if a chunk of time had passed. She and her brothers ragged on me for not being on social media. I had a phone and they could text—seemed good enough.
