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“There were two siblings brought into a foster family at church because their parents had died in a house fire. They don’t have an aunt or grandparents or anyone else in the world. Sure, they have the foster family—but what if they had a place like Trinity? And, what if some day, I could even bring on counselors?”
“That would be amazing,” Robin said. “Have you even asked her, though? Explored the options? Why are you so stubborn?”
“Because for once I want to be unselfish. Look at Beth—she didn’t even go to college because of her dad. I could never, ever ask her to leave him.” His words tumbled him back into the same tussle. He couldn’t solve this.
Robin reached out and put a hand on his. Squeezed. “I’m sorry to press you.”
He nodded. Swallowed. He wanted to talk about anything but leaving. “We’re working on a fundraiser for the camp—in fact, we could use your help.”
Robin wiped her hands on her apron. “Like?”
“This private trail ride will be three days, two nights. But we need meals.”
“Oh, intriguing. They’re going to survive on cinnamon rolls and croissants?”
“Not exactly, but if you could help—donations would be tax deductible. Maybe ask a few of the restaurants in town if they’d donate?”
“I’m sure I could do something. When is it?”
“The event is at the end of June. Runs into July.”
Her eyes rounded. “Short turnaround.” She checked her calendar, flipped from June into July. “Yeah, I could help with that.”
“There’s an access road not far from where we’d be staying. Meals can be prepped offsite and delivered—not the full chuckwagon experience, but on short notice, it’s the best we can do.” He snagged his notebook and added a checkmark next to her name on the to-do list.
“I don’t think anyone spending all day in a saddle is going to complain about a delivery van bringing fresh meals in. It’ll be an epic epicurean and equine adventure.”
“Um, sure. Exactly.”
Robin nodded. “We could make it work. It sounds like fun.” She put another tray of croissants into the oven.
The kitchen door opened and Dylan came in. “I’ve been looking for you.” He turned to Robin. “Sorry to crash in here—I did try knocking up front, but I don’t think you could hear me.”
Uh-oh. “You’ve been looking for me?” Grayson cut another croissant.
“Yeah. I thought you might want to go fishing, hit our old spot on the shore.”
“Oh. Well—” He sought a save from Robin in the form of the long list of bakery tasks she needed him for.
“That sounds like fun—let me pack up a box of pastries for you to take.”
That was what sisters were for.
“I heard you guys had a staff campfire Saturday night.”
“Um, yeah.” Grayson’s voice wavered and he tugged at his collar. He knew. He had to know.
Dylan stared at Grayson a moment and opened his mouth—
“How about a fresh croissant?” Grayson interjected. He picked up a roll off the nearby pan.
Burning. Hot. Burning. “Ow!” He dropped it onto a plate.
“What are you doing?” Robin’s scolding cut through the bakery. “That just came out of the oven.”
“Whatareyou doing?” Dylan looked at him.
Grayson shook his head—clearly, he wasn’t using it. He grabbed his notebook. “Let’s go fishing.”
