The Summer Place - By Pamela Hearon Page 0,43

had them line up single file. They introduced themselves and shook hands with her parents as they walked by. Summer giggled softly at the stunned look of surprise on her parents’ faces.

When she and Rick got to them, he stepped behind her. He’s got my back, she thought. And whether it was the marine or the Southern gentleman, she wasn’t sure, but the idea relaxed her shoulders either way.

“Nubbin!” Her dad’s hug was followed by one from her mom. The greeting and the warmth of the hugs told her she had nothing to worry about.

“Charlie’s been telling us what a great job you two have been doing.” Her dad’s smile was as broad as she’d ever seen it. Knowing that his smile meant he was proud of her made her giddy, but only momentarily. Three more weeks of camp remained. She couldn’t get overconfident and let her guard down yet.

Her mom’s eyes glistened with what Summer assumed was probably relief. “He says y’all have made a good team.”

Dad motioned toward the kids, still in single file as they headed to dinner. “I’m impressed. Really impressed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Rick shook her dad’s hand and nodded. “It’s been a good week.” His glance shifted to Summer, and he gave her a smile that brought the butterflies to flight in her stomach again. “Actually, it’s been a great week.”

“Well, I hope we won’t upset your schedule too much, but...” A hint of mystery accompanied her mom’s smile. “We’ve arranged for a surprise activity tonight.”

Summer didn’t know what her parents had planned, but she’d bet her last dime it wouldn’t compare with the surprise activity she’d received last night.

* * *

“I DON’T WANT TO SQUARE DANCE. I don’t know how.”

Lucy’s whiny complaints had become so habitual, Summer often ignored them—like now.

When her parents announced at dinner they’d hired a square dance caller for the night, she’d wondered if they were both becoming senile at the same time. What were they thinking? Eight- and nine-year-old boys didn’t dance with girls. They would all spend the entire evening standing around looking at one another.

“Ms. Agnes said the man would teach us how.” It was Amanda who spoke. What a super kid. She had a great attitude about everything. If she ever had a daughter someday, Summer hoped she turned out like Amanda.

Summer looped a bright blue ponytail holder around the base of Lucy’s braid. “All done.” She gave the child a pat to send her on her way. “Anybody else need help?” She looked around. While all the other girls were busy changing clothes or fixing their hair, M&M sat quietly on her bed, taking it all in.

Summer felt in her pocket for another ponytail holder, and pulled out a pink metallic one. She held it up as enticement. “Want me to fix your hair, M&M?”

The little girl’s eyes went wide and she bobbed her head.

Summer stood back and regarded the brown locks, calling upon her one semester of cosmetology training. Not enough length for a braid or a ponytail. Hmm, but maybe... She swept the front and sides up and back into a high ponytail, but left the back down. Fussing a bit brought out some funky, little spikes in the front of the tail, which she sprayed to maintain the hold, while the back fluffed out nicely. The pink holder jazzed up the child’s mundane tan T-shirt and brown shorts, and Summer made a mental note to add tie-dying T-shirts to the activity list this week.

“Wow, you look cute!”

Was that Lucy talking? Summer could hardly believe her ears. M&M’s face flushed bright pink, which added to her adorable glow, while Summer rushed to give the other child positive reinforcement that might encourage recurrent behavior. “What a nice thing to say, Lucy.”

Too late. The corners of Lucy’s mouth had already settled in the downward position. Her upper teeth worried her bottom lip. “Ms. Summer, what if nobody asks me to dance?”

The room grew quiet, and Summer realized every little girl in the room was worried about that very thing. She remembered sitting at dances, waiting for somebody—anybody—to ask for a dance. And she realized this was an empowering moment.

“Well,” she spoke loud enough to be heard all around, “you don’t have to wait for someone to ask you. If you want to dance, there’s no law that says you can’t ask one of the boys to dance with you.”

“But what if he says no?” Though the voice was a tad whiny, Lucy’s question was asked

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