Ari had no words.
“Do you want to come for dinner tonight? He’s not seeing anyone—well, not exclusively.”
Ari forced herself back to reality. “I can’t tonight. Some other night, maybe.”
“Maybe tomorrow night?”
“Michelle,” Ari said, laughing, “I hope you have five children just like you.”
“Oh, I hope so, too. That would be so much fun!”
They exchanged cell numbers and parted. Ari walked to her car and sat for a moment, grinning at the little buzz she’d gotten from seeing Michelle’s brother.
“Stop it,” she told herself. She called the number for the children’s camp.
“Cleo Marshall,” a woman announced.
“Oh, hi, my name is Ari Paget. I’m calling about the position at the children’s camp?”
“Wonderful! Where are you calling from?”
“Um, I’m on the island right now, on Main Street, actually.”
“Okay, well, do you know anything about our camp?”
“Only what I saw on the flyer at the Hub.”
“Would you mind if I ask how old you are?”
“No, not at all. I’m twenty-two.”
“Do you have any experience with children?”
“I just graduated from Bucknell with a major in childhood education.”
“Sweetheart, you sound like perfection. Could we meet? Is now okay? I’m at Our Island Home. Are you familiar with it? It’s just off lower Orange.”
“I know where that is.”
“Come over now. I’ve got break time.”
“I’ll be right there.”
As she made her way through the narrow streets, Ari imagined a tall, wide, take-charge woman with double chins and salt-and-pepper hair chopped at her ears.
She drove past Marine Home Center and into the parking lot of the long, low building facing the salt marsh and the calm blue waters of the harbor. She’d never been here before, but she knew this was where people came when they had reached the assisted-living stage. Ari couldn’t imagine Eleanor ever needing assistance. Eleanor liked her privacy, and she was only seventy, so it wasn’t time even to imagine that yet.
Ari got out of the car and headed toward the electric doors of the gray-shingled building.
A young woman exited the building. She wore white polyester pants, sneakers that lit up with each step, and a top printed with red, yellow, and blue balloons. Balloon earrings hung from her earlobes. Her hair was chin-length, dark, and wavy. Her eyebrows had obviously seen some care; they were like raven’s wings, accentuating her big brown eyes. When she smiled, her white teeth dazzled.
“Hi,” the woman said. “Are you Ari?”
“Um,” Ari said. “Yes. I’m looking for Cleo Marshall?”
“You’ve found her. Thanks for coming over. Follow me, we’ll sit on a bench that faces the harbor.”
Ari trailed behind the other woman as she went behind the building toward a patio with benches. The day was warm and bright, but no one was on the patio.
Noticing Ari’s look, Cleo said, “We brought some of our patients out here in the sun this morning, but it’s almost lunchtime—they eat early, get tired easily. We’ll bring another group out in a while. You’re pretty. Sit here.” She plopped down on a bench and patted the seat next to her.
“What a great view,” Ari said. She was trying to figure out Cleo’s age without simply gawking at her.
“You’re looking at my earrings. It’s something I do to brighten the day for my sweeties. Also to help them know what day it is. Today is Saturday, balloon day. Tomorrow will be bunny rabbit day, Monday daisy day. And so on. It makes them smile, and a smile is like sunshine in there. Wait until you’re old, you’ll see. But you want to know about the camp. It’s called Beach Camp, because much of the time is spent at the beach. Also, it’s two words, easy to remember.”
Cleo reached into her pocket and brought out a pack of cinnamon gum. She offered one to Ari and took one herself. “Can’t let my sweeties have gum. They might choke on it. Okay, Beach Camp. Here’s the deal. We have fifteen kids, ages five to nine, and three counselors. Teenagers sometimes volunteer to help out. My cousin Cal is the lead counselor. Camp starts at seven-thirty at the drop-off at Jetties Beach, rain or shine, and parents pick the kids up at four-thirty at the community school.”
“That’s a long day,” Ari remarked.
“Yes, it is. Their parents work long hours. We have two vans to take the kids to the community school if it rains and also for lunch and rest time. Our director takes care of all paperwork and helps schedule special events like trips to the library or a play or a movie.”