Vacation

More signs.

WELCOME!

And—

GUESTS—PLEASE PROCEED TO THE WELCOME CENTER JUST AHEAD.

Then, in case anyone forgot why they were here …

PATERVILLE FAMILY CAMP—WHERE FAMILIES CAN BE FAMILIES!

The two-lane dirt road was well-maintained, no big ruts or boulders. Any brush at the sides was cut well back.

“I’m excited,” Christie said.

“Me, too,” Jack said.

He was getting good at saying things he didn’t quite believe.

If only I could ease the hell up.

What happened at the rest stop could have happened anywhere.

That’s what he told himself.

Then, through the thick stands of pine and dead deciduous trees, Jack saw the outer fence of the camp.

No small fence either. Twelve feet, maybe more. Certainly bigger than the one that girded their complex at home. And two turrets, looking less forbidding than those on the highway, painted a dark cocoa brown with a dark pine green roof.

More like little elf cottages than security turrets.

Did they color-coordinate the nice people with their guns inside the elf cottages?

Jack imagined that by now their arrival had been picked up by the camp’s cameras and whatever motion- detection systems it had in place. Maybe a license check had already been run.

The turret elves reporting their progress.

“Is this it?” Simon said, leaning forward.

The road curved to the right, then the left.

A sign indicated a speed bump, then another, in the traditional Adirondack colors of brown and green. PREPARE TO SLOW DOWN.

Jack eased off the gas.

“Wow,” Simon said.

Wow at what? Jack wondered. The giant fence, the elf turrets, the big sign where log chunks spelled out PATERVILLE FAMILY CAMP, with deer antlers on either side?

Antlers? Don’t tell me they have deer here.

Weren’t deer a thing of the past?

Probably extinct.

A gate opened and, passing the fence, Jack saw a smiling man waiting inside a small booth meters ahead. Only a small candy-cane-striped barrier blocked their way.

Jack stopped the car.

The man’s grin broadened as he walked over.

The gate closed behind Jack.

He glanced back quickly at that.

“Go on,” Christie said. “Say ‘hi.’ Find out where we’re supposed to go.”

Right, Jack thought.

The gate forgotten, he opened his window.

“Welcome to Paterville Camp, folks. And you must be … the Murphy family?”

The man radiated his smile evenly over the four of them in the car. Jack smiled back. “That would be us.”

“Great. We’ve been expecting you. Now”—the man leaned close with some papers in his hand—“here’s your car tag. Just put that on the dash. And your cabin number. And a map of the Paterville grounds. Your cabin’s right here.”

“Where’s the lake?” Simon blurted.

“Oh, real close. You kids are gonna love it. You need to check in at the Great Lodge to get your keys, arrange credit. And that”—his smile broadened—“is about it.”

“Thanks,” Jack said.

The man made a small nod and backed away.

“You folks enjoy your stay.”

The small candy-striped wooden barrier rose, and Jack pulled away.

*   *   *

“Look! There it is! The lake—just like in the picture!”

Simon announced each discovery as they drove deeper into the grounds.

Ahead, a cluster of rustic cottages, then to the left a small hill led down to a beautiful lake, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Behind it, mountains, like guards circling the lake.

And not only that, he saw other families. Kids walking around, others sitting on the beach by the lake. Like an image from a past that had long ago vanished.

Amazing, he thought. That such a place could exist.

He came to a circle near the main building, the Great Lodge. In front, parking spaces under a protective overhang, all done in that mix of dark brown timbers and green roofing.

He pulled into a space and killed the engine. “I’ll go check in.”

“I wanna come,” Simon said.

“I don’t want to just sit here,” Kate said.

“Guess we all go,” Christie said. “Let the adventure begin!”

They got out of their car and walked into the lodge.

The Great Lodge’s lobby ceiling rose up to a second story. Massive murals of all the animals that once filled this area covered the walls. Guests sat in oversized leather chairs, talking, some reading by lamps with bases made from twisted branches.

To the left, Jack saw the dining hall, its twin doors closed. To the right, a gift store. A registration desk ahead and a corridor past it with a sign that indicated TO ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES.

One of the women at the desk, dressed casually in a crisp tan shirt with a red kerchief at her neck, looked up and smiled. Jack came forward.

“Hi, I’m—”

But before he got the words out, a short, barrel-chested man with a neatly trimmed mustache came from the nearby corridor.

He was talking to a woman easily a foot taller than him. Dark hair down to her shoulders. A gingham shirt tied at the waist, showing a slice of her midsection. Cutoffs. And in that quick glimpse, legs that went on forever.

Hard not to stare.

The man stopped talking as soon as he saw Jack and his family.

“And then we need— Oh. Hey! Hel-lo!” He looked around at Jack and his family. “The Murphys, right?”

Guess they were expecting us, Jack thought.

“Yes.”

“Great! Welcome to the Paterville Family Camp!”

The man walked over to them.

“I’m Ed Lowe, camp director and the founder of Paterville.”

Jack introduced Christie and the kids, who all shook the man’s hand.

Ed seemed to focus on the kids. “You kids are going have so much fun here. So much to do.” His eyes went from Simon to Kate. “No matter how old you are.” Then to Christie. “And I guarantee some great downtime for the parents. Grown-ups love it as much as the kids.”

It was as if the guy was still selling the camp. But his good humor had planted smiles on Christie’s and the kids’ faces.