Glow (Glimmer and Glow #2)(93)
Because of her keyed-up state, she was standing a few feet back from her seated group of kids, too excited to sit still.
After the meeting, the managers all undertook the task of handing out a photo booklet to each camper and counselor. It was like a camp yearbook, filled with photos and commemorations of memorable events, both serious and amusing ones. There were blank pages where the kids could have staff and friends sign. Other managers were walking among the kids, carrying boxes with Camp Durand keepsake pens. A few other managers were passing out T-shirts and hats.
A party atmosphere prevailed. She watched as Sal Rigo passed out the booklets to her kids, feeling happy but a little melancholy, too, at the idea of saying good-bye. She’d grown so fond of them. Their faces all looked alight with the setting sun and excitement, but Alice thought she recognized something else. They looked . . . proud.
She thought back to her interview with Dylan. Finally, she understood what he’d meant. Camp Durand really wasn’t about strutting corporate philanthropy, publicity, prime photo ops, or even hiring the best and brightest managers. It was about the kids. Communities and people-building didn’t have to be kept in a separate realm from corporate success and growth. In many ways, this camp was like the lifeblood of the whole organization, the origins of its driving principles, the source of its yearly renewal. Alan and Lynn Durand had recognized that. They’d nurtured that ideal, and so had Dylan.
Standing there on that beach as the kids’ excited chatter and shrieks grew to a dull roar, she suspected that maybe . . . just maybe, she could really belong at Durand Enterprises. This was Alan and Lynn’s legacy. It was Dylan’s.
A newly born sense of pride swelled large inside her.
She beamed at Sal as he walked toward her.
“I see they’ve got you doing some honest work tonight,” Alice told Rigo with a grin as she accepted her booklet.
“We’re a little short-staffed,” Rigo said, keeping his voice low.
“Yeah, I noticed that. Jessica Moder still isn’t feeling well? Someone told me she was sick after I was called in for my meeting with the managers,” Alice explained when she saw the question in Rigo’s eyes.
He nodded. “Yeah. Flu bug or something. Elle Perez just went back to her cabin with it, as well. And Kehoe is still gone. Congratulations on your hire, by the way.”
“You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?” she joked, leafing through her book.
“No. I knew you had it in you.” She glanced up, surprised by sincerity of his tone. His eyebrows went up. “If we could ever catch you, that is.”
Alice laughed. She saw Sal’s tiny, fleeting smile before he turned away to pass out the books to the Orange Team.
NINETEEN
Moving with a rapid sense of purpose, Dylan strode down the castle’s downstairs hallway. Marie, his cook, must have heard him coming because she was staring at the entryway, holding a covered plate in her hand, when he entered the kitchen.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t be home until around eight,” she said. “I was just about to put your dinner in the fridge and take off.”
“I changed my plans. And that’s fine, you’re free to go. Lock up on the way out, will you?” He glanced distractedly around the large kitchen. “Where do we keep the flashlights down here?”
“In the pantry, right side, top drawer,” Marie said, giving him a curious glance as he hastened to the pantry.
“Night, Marie,” he called before he headed for the back stairs and charged up them two at a time.
A moment later, he once again peered into the compartment beneath the stairs, the location where he’d found Alice hiding last week. Disappointment went through him as he swept the flashlight beam all around the dark three-by-five-foot space. It was mundanely empty, save some cobwebs in the corners. If Lynn Durand had ever used the castle’s secret places to hide anything besides her daughter, it wasn’t in this spot.
Several years ago during a visit, Deanna Shrevecraft had shown him not one, but five secret hidey-holes in Castle Durand. Deanna owned a bed-and-breakfast called the Twelve Oaks Inn down the coastline. The Twelve Oaks had been built by the same architect as the castle, but on a smaller scale. When Deanna had visited Castle Durand once, she’d demonstrated to Dylan how alike the two houses were, right down to several secret rooms and compartments.
The door to Addie’s old room opened with a loud squeak. He immediately walked toward the large wall unit he’d had built during redecoration. It covered one entire wall. The new unit was constructed from glowing cherrywood, and included an entertainment console, deep cupboards, and bookshelves. Most people wouldn’t realize the unit had been designed around a smaller original built-in bookcase. Dylan had asked the carpenters to apply new exterior woodwork that matched the rest of the unit, leaving the interior intact.
He opened the second drawer, stuck his hand into the back of the cabinet, and found the latch. There was a muffled click.
The entire nine-by-four-foot section of the shelf swung forward several inches. He pried open the heavy door.
He exposed a much larger hidey-hole than the one beneath the stairs. Dylan had never discovered if the architect of Castle Durand and Deanna’s bed-and-breakfast mansion was just secretive by nature, or if he’d designed the hidden spaces by request.
He stepped over the threshold, an odor of dust and stale air entering his nose. He’d only been in here twice, once when Deanna had cheerfully revealed the secret to him, and once just before the carpenters came to build the new shelving unit. There hadn’t seemed to be much of interest inside the little room; the hidden quality being its only real curiosity. Deanna had been of the opinion that bootleg liquor might have been stashed in here during Prohibition, but Dylan doubted it. A much more likely candidate for that use would be the secret little room at the back of the kitchen pantry.