“Paige, this is my friend Nathan Porter. Nathan, our camp director, Paige McFarlane.”
The girl stepped forward, a sympathetic smile on her face, and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Porter. I’m so sorry to hear about your recent loss.”
He took her hand, surprised by the softness of her fingers and the almost too personal squeeze she gave. Irritation prickled the back of his neck and he quickly released her hand. He turned on George, not even attempting to disguise his disapproval. “You expect me to believe this teenager is qualified to help my son?”
The girl stiffened, her arms clenched tight at her sides. “I’m hardly a teenager.” She glared at him with cool green eyes. Her frosty tone should have deterred him, but it didn’t.
“What kind of experience could you possibly have dealing with grief-stricken children? You look like you’re barely out of high school yourself.”
A splash of rosy color bled through her cheeks. George placed a large hand on her shoulder, whether to comfort her or warn her, Nathan wasn’t sure.
“Paige has almost finished her master’s degree in psychology, including courses in grief counseling. I wouldn’t recommend her if I wasn’t confident in her abilities.”
Master’s degree? A quick calculation put her age somewhere in her midtwenties—not so very far from him after all. Why wasn’t that thought more comforting?
She lifted her chin and crossed her arms, as if prepared for battle. “I don’t have any formal experience, but I have worked with children for years, both here and volunteering with various programs at home. In addition, I have an undergraduate degree in child psychology. I’m willing to meet your son and at least do an initial assessment. After that you can decide what is acceptable to you.”
Her direct gaze caused him to squirm in his suit jacket. He wasn’t usually so rude. He wasn’t usually such a mess either. The nautical clock on George’s desk ticked out the seconds while Nathan fought an internal debate. He looked from one to the other and finally released a long breath. “I guess we’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Excellent.” George clapped him on the back, relief softening the strain around his mouth.
Miss McFarlane looked around the room and raised a brow. “Where is your son? I’d like to meet him.”
“With Lou in the kitchen. I’ll go get him.” Nathan strode out the door at top speed. Around the first corner, he stopped and sagged against the wall, laboring for air.
This was supposed to be a relaxing retreat, a time to get his life back in order. But now—like everything else around him—the situation seemed to be spinning out of his control.
George had better know what he was doing. Zach’s well-being depended on it.
* * *
The moment Mr. Porter marched out of the room, Paige thrust her shaky hands in her pockets, blinking to get the man’s military-like posture and the grim set of his mouth out her mind. Far from seeming appreciative of her assistance, he had turned disapproving and cold the moment she’d entered the room.
Frowning, she trained a laser stare on George. “What’s with your friend? I thought he wanted my help.”
George held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know Nate’s a bit gruff. This tragedy has taken a toll on him, and he’s not himself right now. But Nate’s a good guy, trying to do what’s best for his son. Give him a chance. Please?”
Paige huffed out a sigh, remembering her own debilitating grief not that long ago. She certainly hadn’t been herself then, and she supposed she could give Mr. Porter the benefit of the doubt. For his son’s sake, if nothing else. “All right,” she grumbled. “I’ll do it—for you.”
“Thank you.” His smile deepened the craggy lines around his mouth and eyes.
“You’re welcome.” She hesitated, gathering the nerve to bring up a subject she loathed. “I hate to ask you this...but I need a favor in return.”
“Name it.” He picked up his coffee mug from the desk and took a quick swig.
She twisted her fingers together. “Could I get an advance on my pay? Enough to cover a partial tuition payment?”
George straightened, a frown pinching his brow. “Of course. Why didn’t you ask sooner? I could have had the money to you a week ago.”
She sighed. “I didn’t realize the next installment was due so soon. I thought I had until August.”
“I’ll have a check for you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, George.” A huge weight lifted from her shoulders. Now she’d have some breathing room until the end of the summer to pay the remainder of her fees. If she could work things out with Mr. Porter to pay her for counseling Zach, she might be able to squeak by without having to beg the bank for more loans. Paige crossed the room to perch on the edge of his desk, her mind returning to her next challenge. “So, tell me, how did you and Nathan Porter get to be friends? He’s closer to my age than yours.”
“I’m actually a friend of Nate’s father. Jim and Nancy used to bring him here for two weeks every summer. They became like family to me. That was before I met Catherine, and they took pity on a lonely bachelor.”
Paige snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ll bet you had ladies beating a path to the inn.”
“Well, now that you mention it.” His lips snagged up in a grin.
“So you hung out with the Porters in the summer. What else?” She sensed there was more to the story.
George shrugged. “Jim was an older father and not the outdoorsy type. So I took Nate boating and fishing and taught him to swim. We...bonded.”
The conversation stopped when the door opened. Nathan reappeared, tugging a child behind him. The boy stood scowling at George and Paige, his arms crossed over his striped T-shirt. His hair, a lighter version of his father’s, looked as if someone had just tousled it. Probably Lou. The jolly cook had a soft spot for kids, especially troublesome boys.
Paige’s focus shifted to Nathan Porter, this time paying more attention to his appearance. With black hair that waved over his forehead, sculpted cheekbones, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes, Nathan Porter was one of the most handsome men Paige had ever met. A pity he wasn’t more pleasant. She pulled her gaze away and focused on the guy she was really here to see as Nathan gave the boy a nudge forward.
“Zachary, you remember Mr. Reynolds. And this is Miss McFarlane. She’s in charge of the camp you’ll be attending.”
Taking her cue, Paige crouched in front of the still-frowning boy and smiled. “Hi, Zach. You can call me Paige.”
Zach turned angry eyes on his father. “She’s a girl. How’s this camp going to be any fun if she’s in charge?”
Nathan’s dark eyebrows slammed together. “Zachary, apologize to Miss McFarlane right this minute.”
Zach planted his feet more firmly on the carpet. “I won’t.”
“If this is the way you’re going to behave, then—”
Paige rose and quickly laid her hand on the man’s arm. “Mr. Porter, could I talk to Zach alone for a moment?”
Both man and boy turned furious eyes on her, and Paige stifled a sigh. She’d have her work cut out for her, if she decided to take on this challenge. Instead of clinging to the remaining parent, as was most often the case, Zach oozed anger and defiance at his father. She had to admit the unusual dynamics of this father/son relationship