Her Rocky Mountain Hope. Mindy Obenhaus
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had been renovated. And he owed it all to Andrew. As the former owner of one of the largest commercial building companies in Denver, his brother had all the know-how needed to do the job not only to regulation, but also to finish it under budget and on time.
They scanned the sun-soaked grassy area surrounding the flagpole at the center of the camp while a grosbeak sang sweetly in a nearby tree. Daniel could hardly wait to see campers running to and fro. For many of them, this would be their first time experiencing summer camp. And he was determined to see to it they had the time of their lives—a week full of fun and adventure.
“The place looks great, Daniel.” Andrew slapped him on the back. “Mama would be proud of you.”
A lump formed in Daniel’s throat. As the youngest of five boys, he’d always loved adventure. Mountain climbing, ice climbing, extreme snowboarding, white water rafting... Nothing was off-limits. And his parents had never held him back. Then his mother was diagnosed with cancer.
As she neared the end of her battle, she’d asked to join him on one of his adventures. And while it had only been white water rafting on the nearby Uncompahgre River, the experience got him to thinking about others whose hopes and dreams had been dashed by cancer—kids who didn’t get to be kids because of this dreaded disease that forced them to endure things they should never have to go through.
Somehow, God had taken that nugget of an idea and turned it into a reality.
The sound of a vehicle on gravel drew his attention to the camp’s main drive as a white Camry emerged from trees.
“You expecting someone?” asked Andrew.
Daniel eyed the vehicle as it wound past the camp office that now doubled as his sleeping quarters. “No, I’m not.”
They continued to watch as the driver came to stop next to a towering spruce. A moment later a woman emerged. Her light-brown hair was slicked back into a sleek bun, and she wore skinny jeans topped with a dark blazer over a white shirt. He did a double take then. Why was she wearing heeled booties? They might be stylish, but they definitely weren’t practical out here.
Yep, this gal was a professional of some sort. And about as out of place as a vegetarian at a barbecue cook-off.
He couldn’t tell if she saw him or not, though she seemed to be scanning the area with a critical eye.
He leaned toward Andrew. “Do you think she’s lost?”
“Don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll handle it just fine.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, Andrew strolled off the porch and headed toward his truck. “Have fun.”
Daniel wasn’t sure about fun, but he was curious. He picked up the paint can and his brush and trekked along the dirt path toward his office, waving as Andrew pulled away. Maybe she was an inspector of some sort.
No, not dressed like that. Besides, inspections had all been signed off on. So, what could she want?
He observed the woman again. Maybe she was from one of those pharmaceutical companies. Those folks always dressed like they’d come straight from a business meeting, and with the new medical facility...
Unfortunately, the medical staff was tied up with today’s training.
“Can I help you?” he asked as he approached.
Her head jerked in his direction, her scrutinizing gaze moving from his greasy hair and scruffy beard to his paint-spattered Wild Child T-shirt, cargo shorts and flip-flops before returning to his face again. “I’m looking for Daniel Stephens.”
Confused and perhaps a little embarrassed by his appearance, he said, “I’m Daniel.”
Her large eyes widened even more, her pink lips forming a slight O. “You’re Mr. Stephens?” Her exaggerated blink made it clear she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Shoving his insecurity aside, he straightened and sent her his best smile. “I am. And you are...?”
She extended her hand, long fingers tipped with perfectly manicured nails. “Blythe McDonald. Overseer for the Ridley Foundation.”
His smile evaporated, his confidence and heart sinking somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. “You’re...? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“Today is June eighth, correct?”
“Yes, but your email said June ninth.”
“Then you must have read it incorrectly.” Her forced grin grated his suddenly frazzled nerves.
Sure, the camp was ready, but he wasn’t. He’d seen vagabonds who looked better than he did. And the welcome speech he’d been rehearsing for the past week had flown completely out of his brain. If he didn’t find a way to redeem himself soon, he could forget about any funding from the Ridley Foundation, and the camp he’d worked so hard to bring back to life would be a goner.
And the kids...the ones who were looking forward to an escape from the world of cancer. Camp Sneffels was supposed to be a haven for them—a place where they could feel normal and experience things they might otherwise miss out on. Things such as zip-lining, a challenge course, canoeing... Most of all, they’d get to be with other kids who understood what they were going through and, perhaps, realize they weren’t so different after all.
They were the ones who would suffer. And he would do anything to prevent that from happening.
Staring at the scruffy camp director, Blythe found herself questioning her boss’s judgment. Jack Hendershot had gushed about Daniel Stephens for months, claiming, “He may be young, but he knows what he’s doing.”
Blythe puffed out a laugh. Not from where she stood, he didn’t.
Because while Camp Sneffels appeared to be a beautiful setting, its director looked like a bum. Throw in the fact that he couldn’t even remember her arrival date, something that should have been of utmost importance to someone seeking funding, and she found him sorely lacking. If he ran the camp with that same lackadaisical attitude, it was the children who would be let down, the same way she’d been, and there was no way she’d stand for that—even if it meant pulling the camp’s funding.
“Let me clean this paintbrush, and I’ll give you a tour.” Daniel Stephens walked away, the thwap, thwap of his flip-flops echoing in his wake.
Drawing in a cleansing breath of mountain air, she listened to the breeze whisper through the towering pine trees as she inspected her surroundings. Several yards to her left, a smallish wooden building was labeled Camp Office, while straight ahead on the opposite side of an expansive grassy area stood a large, somewhat charming structure with a rustic stone chimney. To its right was a red-and-white metal building that resembled a barn. And surrounding it all, mountain peaks with just the slightest hint of snow seemed to stand guard. Picturesque indeed.
Turning, she opened her car door and retrieved her phone to take some pictures. But one look at the screen revealed two text messages from her boss.
She read the first one.
Are you there yet?
Jack’s excitement reminded her of a little kid.
What do you think about Daniel? He’s great, isn’t he?
She shook her head. Great was not a word she’d even come close to using to describe Mr. Stephens.
Her phone rang then, her sister’s name appearing on the screen.
“Hey, Jenna. What’s up?”
“Just checking to make sure you made it safely to the camp.” Though Jenna was ten years older than Blythe and married with two kids, they were best friends. Her sister was the one she counted on to be there for her, to help her talk through her problems and listen to her vent. Blythe