Hey, where in the process are the repair requests I made a while back?” Hannah appeared in the doorway of Deb’s office while I was sorting through the reservations for next week. Deb had turned over the schedule-making to me. I wasn’t sure what skills I’d demonstrated that told her I’d be good at that, but I was glad for the change. At least I felt useful. And, I was an excellent agenda maker. The clients listed their goals on their reservation forms and, with just that little information, I could put together a few days of programming to meet their needs. Dare I say it was even fun?
“Umm, I gave them to Deb. Let me look on her desk.” It was still my go-to when something was missing or delayed.
The piles were now so high, and in such disarray, that I considered just taking a hand and swiping it all to the floor in one giant snow pile of papers. It probably would’ve been better organized if I did.
Hannah stood there with one eyebrow up. “How do you even work in here? It’s such a mess.”
“No kidding.” I counted back the number of days ago that Hannah and I had done inventory, estimated how many papers a day were tossed onto the desk, and grabbed a stack that looked about the right height. I lifted up one more, a list of meal requests from a group that came in last week, and, finally, there was Hannah’s list of repairs. “Here it is.”
“So now what? I needed those boats repaired yesterday. I managed to squeeze an extra kid in each boat with today’s youth group, but there’s no way I can keep that up with adults. Plus, we’re short lifejackets. It’s totally unsafe.” Hannah’s face was red, both hands on her hips.
I put up my hands in defense. “Don’t look at me. I am just the errand girl.” Hannah snorted. “But you’re right about the safety. I’m sure there’s some kind of code this breaks, right?”
“Many codes,” she said in a huff.
“Well.” I looked around the office. Deb kept all the important phone numbers in an old-fashioned rolodex. I’d never seen one; she had to explain to me what it was. “What if I called? Could I do that?”
“You mean pretend to be Deb? I mean, I guess you’re just calling to make repairs. She can’t object to that. You’d only be saving her butt.”
Hannah made a good point. I certainly didn’t want retreaters in sinking boats—or worse—and if it happened because I could’ve prevented it but didn’t, I could never live with myself. I flipped through the weird little files in the circular rolodex until I found a phone number for a boat repair company. My hand was reaching for the phone when Deb blew through the door.
“What’s going on, ladies?” she asked, oblivious to what I was about to do. Saved.
“Hi, Deb, we were just looking for the phone number for the boat repair company,” Hannah said, smiling. “You know, for the repair list I gave you the other day.”
“On my to-do list for today, in fact. Ashlyn, get me the phone number, it will save me from searching.” Deb smiled back, unaware that before she entered the office, I was not only about to save her from searching, I was about to be her.
“Whatever we can do to make things easier for you.” I handed her the phone. “Would you like me to dial?”
Deb eyed me cautiously. Too far. I took it too far. “I can do it. Thanks.”
I handed her the receiver, looking for a way to get the heck out of there. “I’m just going to help Hannah in the kiosk. Wipe down the equipment.” Deb nodded and waved her hand at me—her signature move. “The list of repairs is right on top of that stack by the phone. And there are some items that need to be ordered. Do you want me to look up the websites for those items when I get back?”
“No, no, no need. I’ll just leave you the credit card and you can get what’s needed.” Deb seemed absolutely unconcerned that she was trusting me, an underage, temporary coffee maker, with the retreat center’s financials.
“Um, okay. I’ll take care of that in a bit. Thanks.”
With another wave of her hand, she sat down at her desk and began to dial. Whether she was actually calling the boat repair place or ordering Chinese takeout was anybody’s guess. Hannah and I bolted.
“Did that just happen?”
“You mean the part where Deb practically handed you the Amex black card? Yeah, that happened. Joan would have never done that. She kept that thing under lock and key, and only a few people had the privilege of being able to use it. She also had a whole system for making sure every area of the center had what it needed. Like, those boat repairs would’ve been taken care of in a few hours, not days. I’d have more lifejackets than I needed. Deb is so . . .” she searched for the right word, “careless.”
It was totally the right word. Deb is so unlike my father, I thought. I knew from his many lectures over the years that to be successful managing others, and managing a business, you had to pay close attention to detail. Never mind the fact that he was also obsessed with the details of my life and making sure I did exactly as he expected. At. All. Times. The reality that my father himself had missed a few details in his grand scheme to fake out the government was neither here nor there.
“Good thing she has us.” Hannah shrugged at my response. “Maybe we should keep an eye out. You know, in case there’s more stuff.”
Hannah nodded. “Probably a good idea. My mother says you have to document everything when you want to make a change. You need evidence.”
“Is what Deb’s doing actually wrong, though?”
“Not sure. But it doesn’t hurt to keep track of stuff if we notice it.”
“True.”
I was making a list of the things I’d noticed about Deb so far, in the back of my quote journal where no one would look for it, when a large man in a Hawaiian shirt knocked on the office door.
“Hello there, young lady. Might I bother you for a quick minute?”
I couldn’t help but smile. If the word jolly had an illustration on webstersdictionary.com, it would be this man’s picture. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, my name is Harish Patel and my family is staying here for a few more days.”
I grinned wider. “Oh! The Patel family. Everyone has been talking about you all.”
“All good things, I hope.” Mr. Patel winked at me from behind thick glasses.
“Definitely. The staff is glad to have you here.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. We’re glad to be here. Listen,” he said, looking at my nametag, “Ashlyn. We’re not from around here and we’d love to see some local attractions off site. We’ve heard good things but we are unclear on what the possibilities are. Is that something you or Ms. Gress could help us with?”
I knew nothing about this part of Pennsylvania, but I was a champion googler. “I’d be happy to help you, Mr. Patel. Let me talk to Deb and then I’ll put some information together for you.”
“That would be excellent.”
He gave me the details of the number of people and ages in their group, thanked me, and said he’d see me soon. I checked the campus schedule and saw that Deb was signed up for back-to-back cooking challenges. She was doing a charcuterie-themed session followed by an homage to apple pie. “The firefighters are going to be so full by the end of the night,” I said to the empty office. It also meant Deb would be occupied for a good long while.
With no one around to “supervise” me in the office, I turned on the computer. I could practically hear gears screeching from rust and misuse. When it finally finished booting up, I pulled up a browser and searched for tourism in this region of the Keystone State. It turned out there was a lot to do here. Who knew? I started making a list of activities and destinations that looked family friendly:
• underground caverns with stalactites and stalagmites to explore
• a trip down the nearby river in an inner tube, complete with a tube for your cooler
• a visit to a local farm that has its own ice creamery
• a tasting at a winery that has a playground on the premises
It looked like the Patels could stay in the area for an additional week and not run out of things to do. I checked their reservation in Deb’s dog-eared binder and saw they had one afternoon and one morning free before they departed. I opened the spreadsheet software and typed in the suggested destinations, included the estimated time to be spent at each option and cost per person, and added a link to the website for more information. And, for good measure, and because it was my brand of fun, I also included links to restaurant menus where social media users had left positive recommendations.
This is a terrible idea. You can’t just do whatever you want. You’re being reckless. What would your supervisor say? whispered my dad’s voice.
I closed my eyes and shut him off, inhaling deeply to cleanse the negative energy he brought. For the first time since coming to Sweetwater, I felt like I was doing something useful. Meaningful. I didn’t want him to ruin it.
I printed the document for Mr. Patel, intending to deliver it personally. Then I checked his family’s schedule and saw that they were just about done with the ropes course. I closed the office door and headed out in that direction. When I got to the edge of the course, I could hear cheering coming from deeper in the woods. The last obstacle on the course, after crossing a bridge made of wooden slats that hung over a picturesque stream, was a flat, slippery wooden wall. The goal was to get all members of your party over the wall. The only help you had was each other.
As I approached to get a closer look, I saw Ruth standing on the front side of the wall, arms crossed over her chest. There were three Patels left to go over and eight already on the other side. Baxter was crouched down low to the ground, watching them. I walked over and stood next to him. A little girl, who had to be less than ten, dangled her legs over the top of the wall, trying to decide if she wanted to jump down.
“Sometimes it takes them a while to come down.” Baxter spoke without looking up at me.
“Why’s that? Fear?”
“Sure, some of it’s fear. Also, a lack of trust. Which is interesting if you think about it. Kids her age,” he nodded towards the girl, still waiting on top, “love their parents unconditionally, right? So, she should have no hesitation believing they’d catch her.” A man and a woman on the ground were pleading with the girl, arms up, promising they wouldn’t let her fall.
“So what stops her?”
“Not sure.” He turned his gaze on me. “Would you jump down to your parents?”
It wasn’t unkind or probing, but I shuddered to think, from the gentle pointedness, that Baxter knew more than the little bits about my family I’d let slip. “Did Hannah tell you about me?”
Baxter’s ice-blue eyes were on me, making my cheeks warm. “Tell me what?” There was a certain authenticity to his words, and I immediately felt bad for doubting my cousin.
I sighed and turned my gaze back to the little girl, who had slid a few inches forward, her toes reaching for the ground. “No. It’s nothing. Forget it.” I expected him to push me on the subject, but he too turned his attention back to the girl, who I still wasn’t certain was going to take the leap of faith to her parents below or hoist herself back up to the sure safety of the solid wall.
After a few moments, as the little girl continued to struggle with her decision, Baxter looked at me. “I guess there’s not really a good answer to your question. Everyone’s got their own reasons for not jumping.” We watched as the girl finally slid off the wall into her father’s arms while her mother embraced them both. “But I’ve found that when they do jump, they always land on their feet, one way or another.”
Baxter stood up and walked to the girl to congratulate her on her courage. As he did, I couldn’t help but wonder if we weren’t talking about the ropes course anymore. I handed the list to Ruth to give to Mr. Patel and walked away, mulling over Baxter’s words.