“It’s less confusing that way.”
“These kids are supposed to be geniuses. I strongly suspect they could keep track of a real name as easily as a boring, unadorned number.”
“Maybe so,” Lynn said and shook her head. “No one’s ever said anything before.”
“But surely the other counselors have offered suggestions.”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
Sherry raised her eyebrows. “I’d have thought the staff would want something more creative than numbers for their cabins.”
“I’m sure Mr. Roarke thought the kids would be more comfortable with numbers. Several of the children are said to be mathematical wizards.”
“I suppose,” Sherry agreed. Roarke was totally committed to the children and the camp—Sherry didn’t question that—but to her his intentions were misdirected. Every part of camp life was geared toward academia, with little emphasis, from what she could see, on fun and games.
Lynn’s deep blue eyes took on a dreamy look. She shook her head. “I think the whole idea of a special camp like this is such a good one. From what I understand, Mr. Roarke is solely responsible for organizing it. He worked years setting up these summer sessions. For the past four summers, he hasn’t taken a penny for his efforts. He does it for the kids.”
The news surprised Sherry, and she found herself revising her opinion of the camp director once again. The man intrigued her, she had to admit. He angered and confused her, but he fascinated her, too. Sherry didn’t know what to think anymore. If only he weren’t such a stick-in-the-mud. She remembered that Lynn was one of those who had been making sheep’s eyes at Roarke earlier. “I have the feeling you think Jeff Roarke is wonderful,” she suggested.
Lynn nodded and released a heavy sigh. “Does it show that much?”
“Not really.”
“He’s so handsome,” Lynn continued. “Surely you’ve noticed?”
Sherry took another sip of her coffee to delay answering. “I suppose.”
“And so successful. Rumors flew around here last summer when Mr. Roarke became the head of the economics department for Caltech.”
Again, Sherry paid close attention to her coffee. “I’m impressed.”
“From what I understand, he’s written a book.”
A smile touched the corners of Sherry’s mouth. She could well imagine what dry reading anything Roarke had written would be.
“Apparently his book caused quite a stir in Washington. The director of the Federal Reserve recommended it to the president.”
“Wow!” Now Sherry really was impressed.
“And he’s handsome to boot.”
“That much is fairly obvious,” Sherry allowed. All right, Jeff Roarke was lean and muscular, with eyes that could make a woman go all soft inside, but she wasn’t the only one to have noticed that, and she certainly wasn’t interested in becoming a groupie.
“He really gets to me,” Lynn said with a sigh.
“He does have nice eyes,” Sherry admitted reluctantly.
Lynn nodded and continued. “They’re so unusual. Yesterday, when we were talking, I would have sworn they were green, but when I first met him they were an incredible hazel color.”
“I guess I hadn’t noticed,” Sherry commented. Okay, so she lied!
Carefully Lynn set her fork beside her plate, her look thoughtful. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“Oh, I like him—it’s just that I figured a camp for children would be fun. This place is going to be about as lively as a prison. There are classes scheduled day and night. From the look of things, all the kids are going to do is study. There isn’t any time left for fun.”
Evidently Lynn found her observations humorous. A smile created twin dimples in her smooth cheeks. “Just wait until the kids get here. Then you’ll be grateful for Mr. Roarke’s high sense of order.”
Maybe so, Sherry thought, but that remained to be seen. “You worked here last summer?”
Lynn nodded as she swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “I was a housekeeper, then, too. Several of us are back for a second go-round, but Mr. Roarke’s the real reason I came back.” She hesitated. “How old do you think he is?”
“Roarke? I don’t know. Close to thirty-five or -six, I’d guess.”
“Oh dear, that’s probably much too old for someone nineteen.”
Lynn’s look of abject misery caused Sherry to laugh outright. “I’ve heard of greater age differences.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” Sherry answered.
Lynn wrinkled her nose, as though she envied Sherry those years. “Don’t get me wrong. There’s no chance of a romance developing between Mr. Roarke and me, or me and anyone else, for that matter—at least not until camp is dismissed.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Roarke is death on camp romances,” Lynn explained. “Last year two of the counselors fell in love, and when Mr. Roarke found them kissing he threatened to dismiss them both.” Lynn sighed expressively, and a dreamy look came over her. “You know what I think?”
Sherry could only speculate. “What?”
“I think Mr. Roarke’s been burned. His tender heart was shattered by a careless affair that left him bleeding and raw. And now—years later—he’s afraid to love again, afraid to offer his heart to another woman.” Dramatically, Lynn placed her hand over her own heart as though to protect it from the fate of love turned sour. She gazed somberly into the distance.
The strains of a love ballad hummed softly in the distance, and it was all Sherry could do to swallow down a laugh. “You know this for a fact?”
“Heavens, no. That’s just what I think must have happened to him. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Ah—I’m not sure,” Sherry hedged.
“Mr. Roarke is really against camp romances. You should have been here last year. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him more upset. He claimed romance and camp just don’t mix.”
“He’s right about that.” To find herself agreeing with Roarke was a surprise, but Sherry could see the pitfalls of a group of counselors more interested in one another than they are in their charges.
Lynn shrugged again. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a light flirtation, but Mr. Roarke has other ideas. There are even rules and regulations on how male and female counselors should behave in each other’s company. But I suppose you’ve already read that.”
When Sherry didn’t respond, Lynn eyed her speculatively. “You did read the manual, didn’t you?”
Sherry dropped her gaze to the tabletop. “Sort of.”
“You’d better, because if he catches you going against the rules, your neck will be on the chopping block.”
A lump developed in Sherry’s throat as she remembered the problem with her references. She’d need to keep a low profile. And from the sound of things, she had best be a good little counselor and keep her opinions to herself. What Lynn had said about studying the manual made sense. Sherry vowed to read it all the way through and do her utmost to follow the rules, no matter what she thought.
“You’ll do fine,” Lynn said confidently. “And the kids are going to really like you.”
“I hope so.” Unexpected doubts were jumping up and down inside Sherry like youngsters on pogo sticks. She had thought she’d be a natural for this position. Her major was education, and with her flair for originality, she hoped to be a good teacher.
The kids she’d come here to counsel weren’t everyday run-of-the-mill nine- and ten-year-olds, they were bona fide geniuses. Each child had an IQ in the ninety-eighth percentile. She lifted her chin in sudden determination. She’d always appreciated a challenge. She’d been looking forward to this summer, and she wasn’t about to let Jeff Roarke and his rules and regulations ruin it for her.
“The only time you need to worry is if Mr. Roarke calls you to his office after breakfast,” Lynn said, interrupting Sherry’s thoughts.
Sherry digested this
information. “Why then?”
Lynn paused long enough to peel back the aluminum tab on a small container of strawberry jam. “The only time anyone is ever fired is in the morning. The couple I mentioned earlier, who fell in love last summer—their names were Sue and Mark—they talked to Mr. Roarke on three separate occasions. Each time in the afternoon. Every time Sue heard her name read from the daily bulletin she became a nervous wreck until she heard the time of the scheduled meeting. Mark didn’t fare much better. They both expected to get the ax at any minute.”
“Roarke didn’t fire them?”
“No, but he threatened to. They weren’t even allowed to hold hands.”
“I bet they were miserable.” Sherry could sympathize with both sides. She was young enough to appreciate the temptations of wanting to be with a boy at camp but old enough to recognize the pitfalls of such a romance.
“But worse than a camp romance, Mr. Roarke is a stickler for honesty. He won’t tolerate anyone who so much as stretches the truth.”
“Really?” Sherry murmured. Suddenly swallowing became difficult.
“Last year a guy came to camp who fibbed about his age. He was one of three Mr. Roarke fired. It’s true Danny had lied, but only by a few months. He was out of here so fast it made my head spin. Of course, he got called in to Roarke’s office in the morning,” she added.
“My goodness.” Sherry’s mouth had gone dry. If Roarke decided to check her references, her days at Camp Gitche Gumee were surely numbered.
“Well, I’d best go plug in my vacuum.”
“Yeah”—Sherry raised her hand—“I’ll talk to you later.”
The other girl stood and scooted her chair back into position. “Good luck.”
Sherry watched the lanky teenager leave the mess hall, and for the first time she considered that maybe escaping Phyliss at summer camp hadn’t been such a brilliant idea after all.
Chapter 2
Three hours later, the first busload of children pulled into Camp Gitche Gumee. The bus was from nearby Sacramento and the surrounding area, but Roarke had announced at their morning get-together that there were children traveling from as far away as Maine and Vermont. The sum these parents paid for two months of camp had shocked Sherry, but who was she to quibble? She had a summer job, and in spite of her misgivings about the camp director, she was pleased to be here.
Standing inside her cabin, Sherry breathed in the clean scent of the forest and waited anxiously for her charges to be escorted to her cabin. When she chanced a peek out the door, she noted Peter Towne, the camp lifeguard, leading a forlorn-looking girl with long, dark braids toward her.
Sherry stepped onto the porch to greet the pair. She tried to get the girl to meet her gaze so she could smile at her, but the youngster seemed determined to study the grass.
“Miss White, this is Pamela Reynolds.”
“Hello, Pamela.”
“Hi.”
Peter handed Pamela’s suitcase to Sherry.
Thanking him with a smile, Sherry placed her free hand on the shy girl’s shoulder and led her into the cabin.
The nine-year-old’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she sat on the nearest bunk. “You’re not scared of animals, are you?”
“Nope.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Sherry didn’t consider it a good idea to let any of her charges know she wasn’t especially fond of snakes. Not when the woods were ripe for the picking.
“Good.”
“Good?” Sherry repeated suspiciously.
With a nervous movement, Pamela nodded, placed her suitcase on the thin mattress, and opened it. From inside, she lifted a shoe box with holes punched in the top. “I brought along my hamster. I can keep him, can’t I?” Blue eyes pleaded with her.
Sherry didn’t know what to say. According to the camp manual, pets weren’t allowed. But a hamster wasn’t like a dog or a cat or a horse, for heaven’s sake. Sherry hedged. “What’s his name?”
“Ralph.”
“That’s a nice name.” Her brain was frantically working.
“He won’t make any noise and he barely eats anything and I couldn’t leave him at home because my parents are going to Europe and I know we aren’t supposed to bring along animals, but Ralph is the very best friend I have and I’d miss him too much if he had to stay with Mrs. Murphy like my little brother.”
Appealing tears glistened in the little girl’s eyes and Sherry felt herself weaken. It shouldn’t be that difficult to keep one tiny hamster from Roarke’s attention.
“But will Ralph be happy living in a cabin full of girls?”
“Oh sure,” Pamela said, the words rushing out. “He likes girls, and he’s really a wonderful hamster. Do you want to hold him?”
“No thanks,” Sherry answered brightly. The manual might have a full page dedicated to pets, but it didn’t say anything about adopting a mascot. “If the others agree, I feel we can keep Ralph as our mascot as long as we don’t let any of the other cabins find out about him.” Sherry cringed inwardly at the thought of Jeff Roarke’s reaction to her decision. The thought of his finding a pet, even something as unobtrusive as a hamster, wasn’t a pleasant one, but from the looks of it the little girl was strongly attached to the rodent. Housing Ralph seemed like such a little thing to keep a child happy. Surely what Ironjaw didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him…
Three ten-year-olds, Sally, Wendy, and Diane, were escorted to the cabin when the next busload arrived. Although they were different in looks and size, the three shared a serious, somber nature. Sherry had expected rambunctious children. Instead, she had been assigned miniature adults.
Sally had brought along her microscope and several specimens she planned to examine before dinner. Sherry didn’t ask to see them, but after looking at the contents of the jars that lined Sally’s headboard, Sherry didn’t want to know what the child planned to study. Sherry’s social circle didn’t include many nine- and ten-year-olds, but she wasn’t acquainted with a single child who kept pig embryos in jars of formaldehyde as companions.
Wendy, at least, appeared to be a halfway normal preteen. She collected dolls and had brought along an assortment of her prize Barbies and Kens, including designer outfits for each. She arranged them across the head of her bed and introduced Sherry to Barbie-Samantha, Barbie-Jana, and Barbie-Brenda. The Kens were also distinguished with their own names, and by the time Wendy had finished, Sherry’s head was swimming.
Sherry didn’t know what to make of Diane: she barely said a word. She chose her bunk, unpacked, and then immediately started to read. Sherry noted that Diane’s suitcases contained a bare minimum of clothes and were filled to capacity with books. Scanning the academic titles caused Sherry to grimace; she didn’t see a single Nancy Drew.
Twins Jan and Jill were the next to make their entrance. They were blond replicas of each other and impossible to tell apart until they smiled. Jan was lacking both upper front teeth. Jill was lacking only one. Sherry felt a little smug until she discovered Jill wiggling her lone front tooth back and forth in an effort to extract it. Before the day was over, Sherry realized, she would be at their mercy. Fine, she decided, the two knew who they were—she’d let them sort it out.
The last child assigned to Cabin Four was Gretchen. Sherry recognized the minute the ten-year-old showed up that this child was trouble.
“This camp gets dumpier every summer,” Gretchen grumbled, folding her arms around her middle as she surveyed the cabin. She paused and glanced at the last remaining cot. “I refuse to sleep near the window. I’ll get a nosebleed and a headache if I’m near a breeze.”
“Okay,” Sherry said. “Is there anyone here who would like to trade with Gretchen?”
Pamela suddenly found it necessary to feed Ralph.
Sally brought out her microscope.
Wendy twisted Barbie-Brenda into Ken-Brian’s arms and placed them in a position Sherry preferred not to question. Soon, no fewer than three Barbies and an equal number of Kens were in a tan
gled mess of arms and legs.
Jan and Jill sat on the ends of their bunks staring blindly into space while Jill worked furiously on extracting her front tooth.
Diane kept a book of mathematical brainteasers propped open in front of her face and didn’t give any indication that she’d heard the request.
“It doesn’t look like anyone wants to trade,” Sherry told the youngster, whose mouth was twisted with a sour look. “Since you’ve been to camp before, you knew that the first to arrive claim the beds they want. I saw you lingering outside earlier this afternoon. You should have checked in here first.”
“I refuse to sleep near the window,” Gretchen announced for the second time.
“In that case, I’ll place the mattress on the floor in my room and you can bunk there, although I feel you should know, I sometimes sleep with my window open.”
“I sincerely hope you’re teasing,” Gretchen returned, eyes wide and incredulous. “There are things crawling around down there.” She studiously pointed to the wood floor.
“Where?” Sally cried, immediately interested. Her hand curled around the base of her microscope.
“I believe she was speaking hypothetically,” Sherry mumbled.
“Oh.”
“All right, I’ll sleep by the window and ignore the medical risk,” Gretchen muttered. She carelessly tossed her suitcase on top of the mattress. “But I’m writing my mother and telling her about this. She’s paying good money for me to attend this camp and she expects me to receive the very best of care. There’s no excuse for me to be mistreated in this manner.”
“Let’s see how it goes, shall we?” Sherry suggested, biting her tongue. This kid was a medical risk, all right, but the only thing in danger was Sherry’s mental health. Already she could feel a pounding headache coming on. By sheer force of will, she managed to keep her fingers from massaging her temples. First Roarke and now Gretchen. No doubt they were related.
“My uncle is a congressman,” Gretchen said, to no one in particular. “I may write him instead.”
The entire cabin pretended not to hear, which seemed only to infuriate Gretchen. She paused smugly. “Is Mr. Roarke the camp director again this year?”