Free Canyon Walls by Julie Jarnagin

difficult to tell apart. “Okay, but who is Marvin Hartley?”
    His dad rested his elbows on a pile of plat maps and blueprints on his desk. “I can see you haven’t done your research. Marvin is the director of camps for his denomination’s conference. He runs the board that makes all the decisions regarding Sunset Camp.”
    Will’s muscles tightened. His lack of progress toward purchasing the camp was already causing his dad to lose faith in him. “Dad, I’ve already explained to you that I need more time.”
    His father stood and walked around the old oak desk. “It’s simple. If we don’t step in soon, another investor will.”
    Will dropped the schedule on the wingback chair. “You always tell me that I need to learn to trust my gut.”
    His father raised a gray eyebrow. “Connor mentioned you met the camp director while you were there.”
    His brother had a big mouth. “Of course I met her.”
    â€œShe wouldn’t have anything to do with your resistance to this deal, would she?”
    Will looked out the window toward the courthouse. “You don’t give me enough credit.”
    â€œThen why would we hold back?”
    Will turned to face his father. “I think I could help them. I’d hate to see that place close if it didn’t have to. It just doesn’t feel right.”
    His father sat on the edge of the desk. “Son, I appreciate where your heart is, but don’t be naive. The camp is in serious financial trouble. Either we’re going to purchase it or someone else will. We could make something great out of that place. Imagine how much business the extra tourism will bring to Wyatt Bend.”
    Would he really be doing it for Wyatt Bend, or would he be doing it for his father? Would he be doing it for the money?
    His dad walked to Will and slapped him on the back. “Come on, son. We’re meeting Marvin Hartley for coffee. It won’t hurt to talk to the man.”
    Will clenched his jaw. Cassie probably wouldn’t see it the same way.
    â§
    By Monday the camp looked better than Cassie had ever remembered seeing it. All her staff had agreed to come in on Sunday to clean and make repairs. Emory had planted flowers around the sign at the entry of the camp, and Beth baked, filling the cafeteria with the sweet smell of cookies and bread.
    Still, Cassie’s stomach twisted into a knot. She hadn’t slept the night before, unable to turn off the thoughts running through her mind. She felt like Mr. Hartley was coming to judge not only how well she was running the camp, but how well she was running her life, which hadn’t been going so well.
    Mr. Hartley had called on Friday and bumped their meeting time back by two hours. A last-minute change was unlike him, but so many things surprised her these days.
    She sat in her office going over the books one more time in case he had questions about the finances. She had a list of things she wanted to tell him, things she had done to improve the camp and plans she had for the future of the camp. Beth had even been by to wish her luck.
    She watched as Mr. Hartley’s white Lincoln pulled in front of the cafeteria. She walked outside to meet him. He wore his usual khakis that were a little too short and a shirt that fit a little too tight. He had never been anything but kind to Cassie, but he had also never been afraid to speak the truth to her. When he first let her take the job as director temporarily, he spoke of his concerns about her openly, especially the fact that she was the youngest person ever to run one of the camps in the state.
    â€œHow are you, Cassie?” he asked in a straight, monotone voice.
    â€œFine, Mr. Hartley. How was your trip?”
    He took an old, battered briefcase out of the backseat of his car. “There were too many trucks on the highway.”
    Cassie clasped her hands together. “Well, what should we do first?