Gage puts out his hand, and I give him the stick. He makes a show of studying it from every angle and tossing it back and forth between his hands as if testing how easy it will be to pass around a circle of campers.
“I think…” He pauses dramatically, but it works, and I feel the tension rising as I wait for him to continue. “I think that decades from now, Camp Prairie Star campers and staff alike will still celebrate the day you burned that ugly old sharing stick, because it was the day you made way for thisbeautiful,bedazzled,beloved,beyond compare new sharing stick.”
He’s being so over the top, but itworksfor me. Warmth pulses in my chest at his praise, expanding out until I feel it in every inch of my body, including my cheeks, which I’m sure are flushed pink.
I wave off his compliments with faux modesty. “Oh, it’s just something I threw together last minute.”
He laughs, and I revel in it. I forgot how much I love the sound of his laughter. His voice is rich and deep, confident and carefree. I feel like I could pull the sound around my shoulders like a blanket and burrow down.
“Do you want to go find Linda in the front office and give it to her now?” Gage asks.
Now, I laugh. “I know it’s been a few years since we hung out, but do you know me at all?”
He runs his hand through his hair, a half smile on his lips. “You’re going to make a big spectacle of giving it to her in front of everyone at dinner, aren’t you?”
I bat my eyelashes slowly and grin. “How else will they all know it’s okay to forgive me?”
When we walk into the mess hall a few minutes late that evening, I find Linda and head straight toward her. Gage breaks away toward the tables.
I stop. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
He grins and shakes his head. “I’m going to find a good seat and enjoy the show.” He salutes. “Knock ‘em dead, Olivia.”
He sits on the bench at a table near where Linda is standing to oversee the meal. Gage crosses one leg over the other, props his elbows on his leg, and rests his chin in his hands.
Putting what I hope is my most repentant expression on my face, I approach Linda.
I lay a hand gently against her arm to get her attention. “Linda, hey,” I say softly. She turns to look at me, and I drop my eyes as if I don’t dare meet her gaze. “I want to say again how sorry I am about what happened earlier this week. Clearly I have a lot to learn about Camp Prairie Star tradition.”
“Oh, Delaney, it’s fine. I won’t pretend we’re not all devastated with the loss, but what’s done is done.” She nods her head resolutely.
Wow, okay. For that, I decide to double down on my little performance.
I speak louder when I respond. “Even so, I want to make amends. I know nothing will bring the sharing stick back or ever make up for its loss, but …”
A few of the other staff members are openly watching our exchange now, which is exactly what I want to happen.
I pull the new blinged-out stick from behind my back. I extend both my arms and hold the stick out to her, balanced on my palms. I almost want to get down on one knee and bow my head like I’m presenting her with the sword that took down her mortal enemy to really milk the moment, but I’m afraid that it would be taking things a touch too far.
“I made a new sharing stick. I know it doesn’t have the history of the old one, but maybe it’ll do?”
Linda brings her hand to her chest, her eyes wide as she takes in the new stick in all its glory. “Well! Delaney, this is … this is beautiful!”
“Thank you,” I say humbly. “I tried to do it justice.”
More staff members are looking on now, some standing up from the table so they can see better.
I catch sight of Gage, still sitting on the bench with his legs crossed. He has a fist against his lips, his face red, and his eyes watering from the effort of holding back his laughter.
It was a mistake to look at him. I’ve been playing this totally straight until now, but one look at his face and I’m swallowing my own laughter.Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.
As Linda takes the sharing stick from my hands and holds it up to the light to inspect it, a giggle threatens to escape. I bring my hand up to cover my mouth and play it off as a cough.
Still holding the sharing stick in one hand, Linda rushes to the front of the room and picks up the microphone, fumbling to turn it on. When she does, she taps it, sending feedback throughout the mess hall.
“Everyone! May I have your attention, please. Our own Olivia Delaney has crafted a new Camp Prairie Star sharing stick! It’s even decorated in camp colors, which, of course, are the colors of the beautiful prairie blazing star flower common in this region.” She extends her arm above her head, holding the stick high for all to see.
I clamp my lips together to keep from laughing as my coworkers move closer to Linda, clamoring for a better look. Oh man, this went even better than planned, except that I’m seriously about to lose it.Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.I repeat the mantra as I focus my eyes on the floor.
