She’d moved on, interviewing for several stable, boring-sounding positions in the city. Maggie had been right about one thing: The encounter with Fall had turned her from a hopeless interviewee into an average one with better-than-average qualifications.
She’d survived Little Paradise and graduate school. She’d lived through an interview with Dylan Fall.
What else could rattle her?
When she’d gotten the call from Sebastian Kehoe two weeks ago, she’d been floored.
Kehoe hadn’t said so, but given the lateness of the invitation call, she’d figured one of the counselors—one of the ones who actually belonged at Camp Durand—had backed out at the last moment.
“That’s Thad Schaefer,” Brooke Seifert said confidently from where she sat across from Alice, nodding at the gorgeous guy holding the sign. Alice sat alone on the long seat next to the window of the chauffeur-driven limo. Brooke Seifert and Tory Hastings, two other Camp Durand counselors, sat across from her, chatting about topics Alice knew nothing about. Which was the whole point: to shut Alice out.
This morning, Alice had taken the “L” out to O’Hare Airport to meet up with the limo driver and two other incoming Camp Durand counselors. Alice had almost immediately noticed Brooke and Tory’s silent judgment when she introduced herself, the cool, slightly incredulous glances at her frayed jean shorts, T-shirt, combat boots, worn backpack, and army-surplus duffel bag. Which was fine by Alice. She’d already dismissed Tory and Brooke when the driver had mentioned their elite East Coast MBA programs and preppy, rich-girl names.
At the moment, however, all three of them shared something in common. They were all drooling over the half-naked golden dude outside the window. Something about the proprietary quality of Brooke’s tone just now implied she knew the guy personally.
“What kind of a name is Thad?” Alice mumbled, even though she didn’t unglue her gaze from Thad for a second.
“It’s short for Thaddeus, an old family name,” Brooke snapped. “We went to school together at Yale,” she said, her voice segueing to an intimate and slightly mischievous tone as she focused her attention on Tory, once again excluding Alice. Brooke had acquired Tory as a willing slave within two minutes of their meeting at the airport. Alice rolled her eyes, her gaze flickering back up to the stark mansion on the hill as if drawn by a magnet. She’d never seen a place with so many elaborate cornices, verandas, and towers. It looked so beautiful and still up there on the hill. Not that a house moved, of course. It was just that the trees and flowers swayed from the lake breeze and white clouds soared across the robin’s-egg-blue sky, but the house itself remained impervious to the flutter of second-to-second everyday life, like it was enchanted … frozen in time.
“His family and mine go way back. Dad went to school with Judge Schaefer, Thad’s dad,” Brooke was saying to her new best friend forever, Tory.
“Who lives in the big house?” Alice asked.
Brooke made a muted sound of annoyance at the interruption of her story, but she must not have been able to stop herself from showing off her unique knowledge. “They call it Castle Durand around Morgantown,” Brooke said, referring to the nearby Michigan town where Durand Enterprises’ corporate headquarters and several manufacturing plants and warehouses were located. Durand employed more than fifty percent of Morgantown’s population. “And Mr. Top Hot himself lives there, of course,” Brooke said smugly as the car slowed.
Alice jerked around. Mr. Top Hot could only mean one man.
“Dylan Fall? Lives on the same grounds as the camp?”
“This property isn’t just a camp. It’s the Durand estate. It’s not like he’ll have campers traipsing through his drawing rooms or splashing around in his pool,” Brooke said, sc
owling. “The estate is enormous. There are two golf courses, stables, several swimming pools, woods, a marina, miles of hiking trails, tennis courts, and gardens, and those are the private ones, not the ones designated for the camp. Although Fall very generously shares the stables, tennis courts, and one of the golf courses with the campers, from what I understand. My father played golf with some Durand managers here once at the executive course, and got a tour of the grounds,” she added, turning to Tory.
“We get to go there … To the castle, I mean,” Tory said. “Once in a while. There’s a dinner up there on the night we finish our training, before the kids come, and there are other events scheduled up there as the weeks go on. It was on the agenda in our packets. So … what were you saying about Thad Schaefer?” Tory wondered.
Alice silently absorbed this unsettling news as the sedan swung into a parking lot and Brooke resumed her self-satisfied jabbering. She’d read about the events in the literature Sebastian Kehoe had sent. She’d thought the term Castle Durand was some kind of fancy term for the camp headquarters or something. She hadn’t for a second imagined going to Dylan Fall’s house.
“The Schaefers threw a big party for Thad and me when we heard the news,” Brooke was saying. “It’s the first time in Yale history that two of us were chosen from the School of Management for Camp Durand. Usually Durand only selects one. Thad and I hated competing for the spot. You can imagine how thrilled everyone was when we got the news we both got in.”
Right. People celebrated across the known WASP world.
“Two of you,” Tory said in awe. “I was the first to be picked from Brown in three years.”
“They try to even things out among the big business grad schools and then leave room for … you know. Possible outliers and unique cases,” Brooke explained patiently in a manner that set Alice to grinding her teeth.
“At least I’m unique,” Alice said, shoving open the car door immediately when the car halted.
“Oh, you’re special all right,” she heard Brooke say behind her as Alice lunged onto the gravel lot. She slammed the door shut in order to halt the sound of choked laughter coming from within. Brooke and her minion would want the limo driver to open the door for them anyway.
The last two hours in the backseat of that car had been pure torture. It definitely didn’t bode well for the next four weeks. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so much a dream as a nightmare.
She hauled her backpack onto her shoulder and gave the emerging driver a nod. He’d introduced himself earlier as Todd Barrett.
“I’ll get all the bags and deliver them to the camp,” Todd said in a friendly fashion, starting to move past her. He paused. “The cabins and dining hall are down that path, right over through the woods,” he said, pointing. “If you want to have a look around, go on ahead. You can see the main lodge there through the trees.”
“Okay, thanks,” Alice muttered, embarrassed because something in his tone of voice told her he’d noticed her “outsider” status with Brooke and Tory during the drive, and felt sorry for her.
The banner hangers had risen on their stepladders. As Alice slowly approached them, a strong gust of lake wind suddenly jolted the dark-haired guy on his ladder and whipped the sign out of his grip. The vinyl material plastered against his chest and face. He made a muffled sound of distressed surprise and faltered on the stepladder, blinded. The hand that held the hammer flailed in the air as he grabbed for a solid grip with the other. Alice dropped her backpack, ran, and flew up the first three steps of the stepladder, grasping him at the waist.