Almost Perfect by Julie Ortolon Read Free Book Online

genuine welcome. "I've gone from camper to counselor to assistant director."
    "Sandy here is our liberal arts coordinator." Mama motioned to the owner of the sports car, then moved on to the statuesque black girl. "And Dana."
    "Outdoor sports." Dana gave Maddy's hand a firm shake. "How ya doing?"
    "Leah coordinates our nature studies." Mama motioned to a petite Asian girl seated on the far bench, then moved on to the last of the three girls who'd been in the parking lot, the tomboy with cropped brown hair. "And Bobbi is our water recreation coordinator."
    "You know, head lifeguard." Bobbi raised the whistle that hung around her neck and blew. The shrill sound nearly drowned out the screams of protest as everyone covered their ears.
    "So," Maddy said when the noise died down, "did all of you start out as campers?"
    "You bet," Sandy confirmed, and they all launched into singing, " 'We are family, I got all my sisters with me.' "
    Maddy was struck by how very young they looked. Logically, she knew the gap was only about a decade, but it suddenly seemed like a millennium. Although the gap wasn't just the age. These were "good girls." She wanted to laugh at the thought of these squeaky-clean kids working for Joe. And herself being dropped among them. Oh well, she decided, if she could become fast friends with Amy and Christine, she could find a way to fit in here.
    A tingle of awareness brushed the back of her neck. She turned as Joe appeared in the doorway to the office. For a split second, their gazes collided. She braced herself for a blast of cold anger, or the spark of heat she'd seen in his eyes the instant before his mother walked in.
    Instead, his gaze moved on as if he hadn't even seen her. He strode forward with a stack of papers, his years of military discipline showing in every step. "All right," he said, as if rallying the troops for a briefing. "Let's get this meeting under way."
    The coordinators scurried into their seats, taking up notepads and pens. Maddy sat next to Mama, ! while Joe took the seat farthest from her on the opposite bench.
    "We have a lot of ground to cover." Joe skimmed a look around the table that somehow skipped over her. "First, though, I'd like to say welcome back to Camp Enchantment."
    A cheer went up from the other coordinators.
    He glanced at his mother. "Do you have anything to say before we get down to business?"
    Affection and pride softened Mama's face. "I thought I'd let you make the announcement."
    "Announcement?" Carol asked.
    "Nothing major." Joe shrugged. "Only that my stint as camp director has officially been bumped up from temporary to permanent."
    Maddy watched him carefully as a second cheer went up. One corner of his sculpted lips lifted in a smile, but no readable emotion showed in his eyes.
    "And here I thought you'd all go screaming for the front gate." His teasing tone was subtle, the same wry wit he'd once used to charm her.
    "Not likely." Carol laughed flirtatiously. It wasn't overt, or even sexual, yet Maddy felt a bond between Joe and every female at the table—a genuine affection that clearly excluded her.
    The exclusion, though, allowed her to study him and notice how he'd changed. He wore his hair short and neat, not boot-camp short but not as long as when they'd been dating. His face had hardened too, become more sharply defined.
    "In making my decision," he said, "I thought a lot about Camp Enchantment, and the children who pass through here. I know personally what a difference a positive environment can make."
    Maddy cocked her head, intrigued by the ease with which he spoke, considering the personal nature of his words. He'd certainly matured from the boy who sat in the back of the classroom, slumped in his chair with a practiced look of disinterest.
    "Camp Enchantment is more than just a place for kids to come to spend a few weeks in the out-of-doors," he continued. "It's a place steeped in tradition. Since it was founded in the early nineteen hundreds, the