I grit my teeth but force a smile. “Great,” I say tightly. Uncle Nate visits every few months, claiming he wants to make sure that we’re doing okay and that the money he sends is being spent properly, but really it’s because he wants to go on another tirade about his conspiracies concerning my parents’ car accident, his favorite theory being that one of my dad’s former bosses paid someone to cause the accident. At this point, no one else wants to hear about it. We are obligated to listen because we’re family, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t think he’s full of shit.
“It’ll be nice to see him,” Mom says. “He’s family, Jilly. He’s your father’s little brother, and he’s taking care of us.”
I stiffen. “I might not be able to cover all the expenses, Mom, but I work really hard to try to make ends meet around here.”
“I know you do, honey. But you’re still so young and have your whole life ahead of you; you shouldn’t be shouldered with a burden like this. There’s nothing wrong with accepting help from family. Uncle Nate wants to help.”
I shake my head. “We’re not a charity case.”
“You’re right; we’re not. But he is family, and he wants to help. And try to get along with that boy at camp. You’ll just make yourself miserable if you don’t.”
On my way out of the living room, I pass the framed picture hanging on the wall. It’s the last photo taken of Dad, Mom, and me. We’re standing on Baker Beach, the Golden Gate Bridge behind us. All smiling. All with no clue how very wrong things would go in just a few short months for our little family. She has a point, I suppose. There’s a good chance he’ll be there all summer.
*
When I get back, the campers are all out on the archery field. They’re standing there in a line, bows in hand, facing the targets. Griffin is in the middle of this line, and as I approach, I can hear him talking to the campers.
“When you’re at full draw, your body forms a T, if you’re in proper alignment,” he’s saying. There is movement on the line, as some of the archers readjust themselves.
Even Allison is there, right next to him, gamely trying to get control of her bow.
“Good,” Griffin says. He’s lowered his own bow and is walking up the line, inspecting each person’s stance.
“Can you help me get in the right stance? I can’t figure it out,” Allison says.
He sees me as he walks back over to her and he gives a little wave. “Now here’s a girl who looks like she knows how to shoot an arrow. Care to join us?”
“No, that’s okay,” I say tightly. “I was wondering if a group would like to get together and take a ride down to the swimming hole.”
“Okay!” says Simon. No one else moves. Normally, taking the horses swimming is one of the most popular activities, but right now they’re looking at me like I just suggested we all sit in a circle and pull out each other’s toenails with pliers.
“Griff is giving us an archery lesson,” Allison says. “He’s an expert.” She points to one of the targets, where three arrows surround the yellow bullseye.
“And here I thought he was teaching you how to knit a sweater.” I look at Simon. “Guess it’s just you and me,” I say. He hurries after me and we walk off the field, toward the paddocks to get the horses.
“I don’t care much for archery to begin with,” Simon says.
I glance at him. He’s shot up in the year since he was here last summer, and at some point, maybe, he’ll be attractive, but right now he looks like a gangly colt who is still trying to get used to his new body dimensions.
“It’s okay if you wanted to stay there,” I tell him.
“Nah. I’d rather take the horses out.” He jams his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Who is that guy, anyway?”
“Apparently someone who is good at everything,” I mumble. Simon looks at me quizzically. “I don’t know where he came from. He’s a friend of Allison’s.”
Simon snorts. “I’d say a little more than friends.”
I ignore the remark, though it slides under my skin like a splinter. “I didn’t realize he was a professional archer.”
“He said he learned in Scotland. One of his friends is part of the Royal Company of Archers.”
“Well, isn’t he well-traveled.”
“He is a pretty cool guy,” Simon says. “Or he seems that way. He seems like he’s good at a lot of things.”
“He’s arrogant. And he happens to be good-looking, and rich, apparently, so I guess that means he can get away with doing whatever he wants.”
Simon squints at me. “How do you know all that stuff about him?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t, really. He’s just another handsome rich boy, and they’re all basically the same.”
“Okay,” he says after a minute. “I’m not rich,” he adds.
I shoot him a look. “Good. Stay that way.”
*
After Simon and I put the horses back out to pasture, I head back to my cabin to lie down for a bit before the afternoon activities. Allison is lounging in the hammock under the oak tree by my cabin, one leg hanging off the side. She sits up when she sees me.
“Hey,” she says. “I was wondering where you were. I have a really big favor to ask.”
I push my sunglasses up on top of my head. “And what might that be?”
“I was wondering if you would do the afternoon trail ride. It’s only with like six kids; the rest are going on a hike with Bill.”
“I just went for a ride.”
“Yeah, with Simon. You shouldn’t have gone if it was just going to be the two of you.”
“Maybe you should try not telling me what to do, considering you’re asking me for a favor and all.”
Allison smiles and gives me a sisterly look. “I’m just joking, Jill. Geez. It’s cute how much Simon likes you, actually. So will you do it? Do the trail ride? I was going to take Griff up to the city.” She leans toward me and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “Griff has a trust fund.”
I try to refrain from rolling my eyes. “That must make him so much more attractive.”
“Hello, are you blind? He doesn’t need anything to make him more attractive. He’s like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”